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  The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World’s Worst Knight © The Salariya Book Company Limited 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Book design by David Salariya

  Illustrations by Sarah Horne

  Additional cover illustrations by Tanya Komedina

  Published in the United States by Jolly Fish Press, an imprint of North Star Editions, Inc.

  First US Edition

  First US Printing, 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (pending)

  978-1-63163-137-5

  Jolly Fish Press

  North Star Editions, Inc.

  2297 Waters Drive

  Mendota Heights, MN 55120

  www.jollyfishpress.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter 1

  -

  Knight Training

  February 1st

  Step aside, Sir Lancelot. Make way, Sir Gawain. Nice try, Sir Galahad.

  Forget all the heroic knights you know. This is the tale of the bravest and wisest knight of all–Sir Roderick. Me!

  Okay, maybe that’s not true.

  I’m not even a knight yet. I’m still a squire to Sir Lionel here at Doddingford Castle, and I won’t be made a knight for at least another three years.

  And I’m not entirely brave. But I can be wise on a good day. One out of three isn’t bad.

  But soon I will be brave, and I know I’ll make a brilliant knight.

  This secret diary will record how I rose to greatness. One day they’ll tell stories about me, just as they do about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and Roland and all the others.

  The difference is that all the details of my life will be written down here, so people in the future will know exactly what I did.

  February 2nd

  Sir Lionel set me a very important challenge today. I had to clean all the pigeon poo off the east wall of the castle. The stain was really high up, and I had to go all the way to the top of the ladder to get it off.

  That was pretty brave, right?

  It might not have been as brave as galloping fearlessly toward an enemy with my visor down and my lance raised. But it’s an important step. Today, wiping away pigeon poo. Tomorrow, wiping out the enemy on the field of battle.

  And today’s job did turn out to be quite a perilous quest, because I wore my fashionable pointed shoes and ended up falling off the ladder.

  I was so brave I didn’t even cry when I hit the ground. Well, not that much.

  February 3rd

  Sir Lionel gave me another brilliant quest today. I had to wash all his flags. The water was really cold, and it was very brave of me to dip my hands all the way in and . . .

  Who am I kidding?

  Washing the flags was just another boring job. They weren’t even that dirty.

  As I cleaned the flags in the corner of the courtyard, I spotted Thomas and Geoffrey practicing their sword skills on a wooden post.

  Thomas is the squire to Sir Hugh and Geoffrey is the squire to Sir Robert. Their lords obviously believe they’re capable of learning better stuff. So why doesn’t mine?

  GET REAL

  Before someone became a knight he had to train for a few years as a squire. He’d learn to fight and act as a personal assistant to an existing knight, looking after the knight’s weapons and armor.

  February 4th

  Brilliant news–today I asked Sir Lionel if he could train me in sword fighting and he agreed. I think it helped that Sir Hugh and Sir Robert were with him. Even if he doesn’t think I’m ready yet, he’d never admit it in front of those two. The knights all get really competitive about who has the best sword, or lance, or coat-of-arms. It stands to reason they’re also competitive about who has the best squire.

  I’m getting my first lesson tomorrow. I had to spend today cleaning cups and plates for the upcoming feast, but I didn’t mind. My new life as a mighty warrior begins tomorrow, and I’ll never have to bother with boring chores again.

  I’m writing this on my pile of straw in the corner of the Great Hall, where all us squires sleep. I have a really cozy spot just along the wall from the fire, and I’ve managed to gather loads of really soft straw. I usually have no problem drifting off to sleep, but I’m too excited tonight.

  I just want it to be tomorrow so I can start my new life.

  February 5th

  It turns out sword stuff is a lot harder than it looks. Sir Lionel led me out to the wooden post this morning and handed me a sword that was almost as big as me. He said practicing with weapons that were too big would help build my muscles. It won’t be long before I’m trotting off on quests and fighting people for real, so I need to be as strong as I can be.

  I tried to lug the sword up and strike the post. The tip stayed on the ground.

  I told my arms to lift the sword, but they ignored me. I bent my knees, then thrust myself up while swinging my arms around.

  This time it worked. I spun round and round until the sword was over my head.

  This was it! I was becoming a merciless warrior.

  The courtyard was turning into a dizzy blur. A small part of my mind wondered why I hadn’t struck the wooden post yet, but I was so giddy about my new skill I ignored it.

  A few seconds later I struck what I thought was the post. But when the world stopped revolving I saw I’d actually circled all the way across the courtyard and sunk the sword into the side of a spinning wheel.

  All around me, people were crouching in corners and cowering behind their hands.

  So the good news is that I struck fear into people with my sword skills. The bad news is they weren’t my enemies and I didn’t mean to strike fear into them. But if I can make the right people feel that frightened, I’ll be well on my way to becoming an amazing knight.

  February 6th

  Sir Lionel said we should give the sword fighting a rest and focus on other training activities. He took me to a field at the back of the castle, close to the North Hills. We were out of sight of the others, which meant I could focus on my training without worrying about anyone watching.

  First, I tried fighting with a long wooden stick called a quarterstaff. Sir Lionel showed me how to lunge it forward to repel lance and sword attacks. I think I was concentrating on the top too much, because the bottom swung round and took my feet out.

  Looking at it in a positive way, I used the element of surprise, which is important in battle. It’s just a shame I used it on myself and not an enemy.

  Next, we tried putting the stone. In this exercise, you have to throw a huge rock as far as you can. I got it quite high, but sadly not very far. The rock plummeted down onto my foot, and I hopped about and screamed. I launched a deadly attack on myself. Again.

  Finally, we tried acrobatics training. I had to tip forward, support my weight with my hands, and hold my legs in the air. I could manage this quite easily, if Sir Lionel held my legs up. So maybe I didn’t do too brilliantly on my traini
ng today either. But it’s difficult to learn three new things in one day! Give me a week and I’ll be an expert in all this stuff.

  GET REAL

  A squire’s training would include lots of different activities to help improve his fitness and skill. Activities included wrestling and acrobatics, as well as training with weapons such as swords, javelins, and quarterstaffs.

  February 7th

  When I asked Sir Lionel what I’d be doing today, he pointed to a pile of cups in the corner of the courtyard. Looks like I’m back to the chores again.

  Bah. I get two measly attempts at knight training, and I’m put right back on the boring jobs. And all because my training attempts didn’t go as well as they might have.

  I had to watch Thomas and Geoffrey practicing their sword skills while I washed the cups. I bet they weren’t perfect at first either. The difference is they had patient masters who didn’t give up on them after their first tiny mistake.

  Chapter 2

  -

  A Visit

  from

  Sir Reginald

  February 8th

  Okay. Maybe things aren’t so bad. I asked Sir Lionel when I could go back to battle training, and he said he’d consider it next week. For now, I’ve got to wash all the plates and cups for the feast tomorrow. A knight called Sir Reginald is coming to visit, and they’re putting on a banquet in his honor. Because he’s such an important guest, he’s staying in the bedroom at the top of the keep, and we’re going to serve him our best food.

  Sir Reginald sounds like an amazing knight, and I expect just seeing him will be a real inspiration. No doubt I’ll be totally fired up when I return to my training.

  February 9th

  Sir Reginald arrived at the castle this morning, and the knights have been scoffing constantly ever since. They’ve eaten beef, mutton, swan, and peacock. I served pheasant to Sir Reginald, and he got angry with me because I didn’t carve it properly. Apparently that’s another skill Sir Lionel is meant to have taught me. Perhaps Sir Reginald should take that up with him.

  Sir Reginald is an overweight and red-faced man who isn’t much taller than me. He looks like he’d keel over and die if he tried to pick up anything bigger than a table knife. I did actually find him quite inspiring, though. If he can become a great knight, there’s hope for me.

  When he wasn’t getting annoyed with me for not carving the meat properly, he was getting angry about the knights of Froddington Castle. They recently stole the fingers of Saint Stephen, which is an important holy relic, from Yellowfriars Monastery.

  This news sent our knights into a rage, and soon they were all as red and cross as Sir Reginald. Our jester Leofric came in to entertain them, but they threw bones and vegetables at him. Most people usually wait until he starts telling jokes for that.

  He really needs to learn to pick his moments. He’s always telling me timing is important for comedy. And yet he wanders into a room of knights who’ve worked themselves into a frenzy over some missing fingers and expects them to want to laugh.

  GET REAL

  Lavish banquets were often thrown in medieval times to impress guests. Rich and exotic foods would be served, and diners would be entertained by musicians, acrobats, and jesters. Squires would sometimes be called upon to carve the meat for their masters.

  February 10th

  I was expecting my job today to be cleaning up after the feast, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. But this morning Sir Lionel said that I had to attend to Sir Reginald instead. Apparently he’d been struck down by a mysterious illness, and I had to watch over him in case his condition got worse.

  His illness didn’t seem very mysterious to me. He spent the whole of yesterday eating, and he spent today lying in bed and clutching his stomach.

  Every so often he’d throw up into his bucket, and I’d have to chuck it out the window.

  He was constantly retching and whimpering, but at least that meant he couldn’t complain I wasn’t throwing the vomit away properly.

  At one point I opened the window to toss out the latest helping of spew, and bright sunlight streamed in. Sir Reginald bolted upright in bed and shouted, “Yes, yes, I see!”

  He stared at me with his hand out, then collapsed back down to the bed. At first I thought he’d died, and I was worried everyone would blame me for not looking after him properly. But when I leaned in close to listen to his heartbeat, a fresh fountain of spew erupted from his mouth and went all over my hair.

  I don’t think I can take another day of this. I never thought I’d say it, but I really hope I can go back to cleaning dishes tomorrow.

  February 11th

  Today was the greatest day of my life. I would never have imagined that cleaning up vomit could lead to such amazing fortune.

  This morning, Sir Lionel told me that Sir Reginald had miraculously recovered from his illness, and I could go back to cleaning up plates. I was just getting started when he called me into the great hall. Apparently, Sir Reginald had called all the other knights for a meeting, and he’d personally asked that I go too. I hoped it wasn’t because he thought he might still have a bit of vomit left and he needed someone to scoop it up.

  When everyone was settled in the hall, he announced his news. While he was stricken with illness, he’d been given a vision by Saint Stephen. The Saint had told him to go on a quest to get his fingers back from the evil Froddington knights and return them to Yellowfriars Monastery.

  Saint Stephen had declared there should be twelve knights on the quest, to match the number of Knights of the Round Table.

  There were murmurs of confusion from the others. There are only ten knights here at the castle, so even if we added Sir Reginald we’d still be one short.

  And that’s when the brilliant bit happened. Apparently, Saint Stephen had given Sir Reginald a vision of me with holy light shining behind me, meaning I should become the extra knight for their quest.

  I was about to admit it wasn’t a vision at all, and that I was actually standing in his room with the sun behind me after throwing his vomit out, but thank goodness I kept my mouth shut. I know knights are meant to be honest, but there are moments when it pays to bend the truth a little.

  It took a few moments for Sir Reginald’s words to sink in. He was talking about making me a knight right away. This would cut out years of training and waiting, and it would definitely mean no more washing dishes and cleaning up pigeon poo. I’d be going straight from zero to hero.

  Sir Robert and Sir Hugh tried to spoil things by saying I wasn’t ready, and if we were desperate for another knight, Thomas or Geoffrey would be more suitable.

  I tried to think of a way to argue back, but I couldn’t. Both Thomas and Geoffrey are pretty handy with their swords, and it would be much better to have one of them in a crisis than let me loose to attack my own feet. But I really wanted to become an awesome knight, and that must count for something.

  It turned out that I didn’t have to justify myself. Sir Reginald shouted at them until he was purple for doubting Saint Stephen. He said he’d refuse to stand for anyone questioning a vision personally given to him by a saint.

  So that was it. It was agreed that I should be made a knight right away.

  Sir Lionel even looked quite proud of me for once. He grinned at Sir Robert and Sir Hugh as they folded their arms and scowled.

  Our quest begins on the first day of next month, by which time the worst of the winter weather should be over. It will also give them time to knight me, train me properly, and hold a tournament in my honor.

  Yeah, you read that last bit right. They’re putting on an entire tournament to celebrate my brilliantness. Eat my dust, losers.

  GET REAL

  The legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table was incredibly popular in the Middle Ages. According to the stories, the knights lived
in a castle called Camelot and went on quests to find the Holy Grail, the cup that Jesus, according to Christian tradition, drank from at the last supper. No one is sure if King Arthur even existed, but the myths about him were an inspiration to real knights.

  Chapter 3

  -

  I Become

  a Knight

  February 12th

  Sir Lionel took me to the armory this morning to choose a sword. I’m not usually allowed in, although I’ve sneaked inside a few times at night.

  Stepping inside without having to worry about getting caught was amazing. I stood in the middle of the murky space, surrounded by suits of armor, longbows, arrows, spears, maces, lances, axes, daggers, and staffs. It was finally sinking in. I was going to become a real-life hero.

  We headed for the back wall, where swords were hanging from a long wooden rack.

  Sir Lionel told me to pick the sword that was calling out to me. My eyes fixed on a huge silver one with a copper crossguard. I pointed at it, and Sir Lionel said I’d made an excellent choice. He said it was double-edged and powerful enough to tear links of chain mail apart.

  I tried to grab the sword, but it wouldn’t budge. I put both my hands on the grip, and I tried again. I still had no luck.

  It was a bit like the story of the sword in the stone, if King Arthur had totally failed to pull the sword out of the stone.

  Sir Lionel pointed to the sword beneath it. He said it was almost as big but had a groove running down the middle of the blade that made it much lighter.

  This one I managed to pull out. I held it in the air and imagined my enemies cowering in fright.

  I found myself stumbling backward. My knees were weak, and my arm was quaking. My imaginary enemies were sniggering at me now. This wasn’t good. I couldn’t even frighten a pretend foe.