The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World's Worst Knight Page 2

  Sir Lionel grabbed the sword, stuck it back in the rack, and picked out a small pointed one. It was very thin and wasn’t even half the length of the others, but I could hold it without collapsing.

  So that’s my sword. It’s not the most impressive one ever seen, but I still expect it to be claiming the lives of bad guys very shortly.

  This evening Sir Reginald came to my room and told me all about the tournament they’re planning. He’s invited a group of knights from nearby Bamwell Castle to compete at jousting with us.

  He says he’s counting on me to win all my bouts and show the Bamwell lot why he knighted me.

  Er . . . he knighted me because he ate too much meat and thought Saint Stephen told him to. But never mind. I’m sure I’ll be good at jousting. All you have to do is knock your opponent off his horse with a stick. How hard can that be?

  GET REAL

  According to myth, Arthur revealed himself to be the true king by pulling a sword from a stone. The sword was magic, and only the person fit to rule could lift it out. The legend appears in many literary works about King Arthur, such as Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte d’Arthur and T. H. White’s The Once and Future King.

  February 13th

  I’ve been practicing all around the castle with my new sword, and I think I’m getting the hang of it now. I’ve destroyed only four tapestries, three jars, and a chamber pot.

  It’s a shame the chamber pot was full, as the other stuff was easy to clean up.

  Sir Lionel says that although my sword is small, it can still be very deadly, as the sharp end can get through gaps in armor.

  I can’t wait to get out there and show those Froddington knights what they get for stealing holy fingers.

  Except . . .

  Seeing as this is a secret diary, I might as well admit something.

  I know the Froddington lot shouldn’t have stolen the fingers, but it hasn’t made me angry enough to kill them.

  You can tell from the way Sir Reginald snorts and stamps his feet that he’s mad enough to battle our enemies to the death. But I’d be much happier if we could talk them round to returning the fingers without having to actually kill them.

  I’m sure this will change when I get out onto the field of battle and see the fiends for myself, though.

  February 14th

  Tonight’s the night I’m getting knighted. Sir Lionel came into my room to talk me through it.

  First, I have to bathe in cold water as a symbol that my sins have been washed away. I’m not sure exactly how many sins I’ve even committed yet. There was that time I stole some honey from the kitchen, I suppose.

  Anyway, I’ll soon be pure enough to wear a white tunic.

  After that comes the tricky bit. I have to go to the chapel, place my sword on the altar, and stay up all night praying.

  How am I meant to stay up for the entire night? Will I still be allowed to become a knight if I curl up and drift off for a few hours?

  Anyway, after I’ve stayed up all night, our priest will bless my sword and Sir Lionel will make me a knight.

  GET REAL

  Dubbing was the final part of the knighthood ceremony. The king, or another knight, would tap the squire on the neck with the flat of a sword. He would then be a knight and could claim the title “sir.”

  February 15th

  I’m so tired right now. I can hardly even see what I’m writing. But I want to get it all down here before I forget the details.

  First of all, I am now Sir Roderick. The ceremony went ahead, and I’m officially a knight. Yay!

  It didn’t exactly go smoothly, though.

  First of all, Thomas and Geoffrey were in charge of bathing me, and they made sure the water was really cold. I can take cold baths, but the one they prepared actually had ice on the top. They’d left the tub out overnight to make sure.

  I should have ordered them to drag the tub to the fire in the great hall and waited for the ice to melt, but I didn’t want to look like a coward, so I jumped in.

  Bad idea.

  I let out a high scream of fright, which Thomas and Geoffrey thought was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

  As I stood in the freezing tub, rubbing my blue skin and trying to stop my teeth from chattering, Thomas and Geoffrey continued with the next part of their plan to ruin things. They told me the ghost of a headless woman haunts the chapel at night.

  Obviously, they were just making up stupid stories because they were jealous. And it completely backfired, because the story frightened me so much I had no problem staying awake all night.

  As I knelt before the altar with my sword, I kept imagining a headless lady sneaking up behind me, ready to tap me on the shoulder and shout “Boo!” Well, probably not that last bit, because you’d need a head for that.

  Anyway, I managed to get through the whole night without sleeping, just as I was meant to.

  Okay, so technically I was looking around and whimpering rather than praying, but it still counts.

  When it was morning, all the others gathered in the chapel and our priest delivered a long sermon about the duties of knighthood. This was the hardest part of all to stay awake through.

  When the priest was finally done, he blessed my sword, and Sir Lionel hit me on the shoulder with it. He did it really hard, and I couldn’t stop myself from shrieking. But it was too late. I was a knight. They couldn’t take the title away now.

  After that there was a feast in my honor in the great hall. We had peacock, beef, and swan. It was amazing that such rich foods were brought out in my honor, though some of them smelled a bit off, and I wondered if they were leftovers from Sir Reginald’s feast.

  But it didn’t matter, because Thomas and Geoffrey had to serve me, which automatically made it the best meal ever. The envious losers just had to suck it up. They can make my bath cold and freak me out with stories of headless ghosts, but I’m a knight and they’re not, and that’s what matters.

  After the meal, Leofric came out and told some jokes he’d written especially for the occasion. They were met by silence as usual, but I thought he’d tried pretty hard this time:

  “I just got back from Camelot. It was a great place; loved the knight life.”

  “On my way home, I noticed the peasants were revolting. Don’t worry, folks, I’m just talking about the smell.”

  “It’s so great to have Sir Reginald staying with us. But if I were you, Sir Reginald, I’d lay off the feasting for a while. If you don’t stop eating soon, you’ll have to change your name to Sir Cumfrence.”

  “But seriously, it’s so great to see Roderick becoming a knight today. I find it impossible to praise him too highly. In fact, I find it impossible to praise him at all.”

  Most people had abandoned the room by the time Leofric was finished, giving me an excuse to slip away for some much-needed sleep.

  I think it’s time for me to hit the straw. I’m worried that when I wake up I’ll find it was all a dream and I’m not really a knight. But I can’t keep my eyes open any more.

  February 16th

  Today I chose my first ever suit of armor. Or at least, I tried to.

  Sir Lionel took me to the armory, and I picked out a few pieces. I fixed a greave to my lower leg. It’s only meant to cover your shin, but the one I tried came up to my thigh. This would mean I’d have to launch into battle without bending my knees, which wouldn’t be great for running.

  I tried on a breastplate, which is meant to come down to your waist. It was so low on me it almost touched the greave. There was no room for the cuisses, which are meant to protect the thighs, or the poleyns, which are meant to go over the knees. But there was enough of a gap for an enemy sword to slice me in two. Not much use as armor, then.

  Sir Lionel said I was a lot smaller and thinner than most knights. He’s going to
take a few spare bits of armor to Borin the blacksmith and get him to make a suit that actually fits me.

  GET REAL

  At first, knights wore small iron rings called mail for armor. But as weapons developed, better protection was needed. Knights began to wear suits of armor made from strong metal plates. They were much heavier than mail, but much more effective.

  February 17th

  Borin gave me my suit of armor today. At first I was disappointed because the plates he’d made it from didn’t match very well. Some of them were new and gleaming, while others were old and rusty, and he’d had to bend them into weird shapes to fit them together. At least the other knights wouldn’t need a coat of arms to identify me in battle. They could just look for the knight with the misshapen, mismatched plates.

  But I forgot all about how odd the suit looked when I put it on. It fit perfectly, and I found I could move with ease. When I strapped my helmet on and grabbed my sword, I felt ready for any battle.

  Get ready to hand the sacred fingers over, Froddington villains. I’m coming for you.

  February 18th

  I practiced walking around with my suit of armor on today. It’s quite heavy, so I thought it would build my muscles if I wore it all the time.

  I wandered all around the castle, through the stables, the chapel, the courtyard, and the great hall. I was feeling so confident I decided to go up the spiral staircase on the west of the keep. Getting up wasn’t a problem, but coming down was harder. The gap in my visor wasn’t big enough for me to see my feet.

  I tried to stay near the wall where the stairs are at their widest, but it was still very difficult.

  When I was nearly at the bottom, I missed a step. I grasped for the wall but couldn’t get a grip on it. I tumbled forward and rolled over five times before clattering to the courtyard floor.

  The good news was that my armor gave me excellent protection. Though I’d had the wind knocked out of me, I was sure I hadn’t broken any bones. The bad news was that the suit was so heavy I couldn’t lift myself up.

  It was just as well that all the other knights were in the courtyard and had witnessed my fall. Sir Lionel helped me to my feet, and when the world stopped spinning I saw the others sniggering into their gauntlets.

  Sir Reginald was with them. I was really worried that he’d decide Saint Stephen was wrong after all and I shouldn’t go on the quest, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  I told the others I’d deliberately thrown myself down the stairs to test the strength of my new armor. Then I hobbled back to my straw and nursed my bruises.

  Chapter 4

  -

  Tournament Preparations

  February 19th

  Sir Lionel says I’ll be expected to show off my jousting skills at the tournament, and he got really angry when I said I didn’t have any. He was the one who was meant to train me in all that stuff. There’s no point in getting angry with me for something he should have done.

  We took one of the horses out to the field at the front of the castle this afternoon so I could learn.

  Sir Lionel helped me get on and handed me a lance.

  I never feel very safe on horses. I know that’s not a great thing for a new knight to admit. Knights are meant to feel at home on horseback. It should be as comfortable for me as settling down in my straw after a hard day. Instead, I find it scarier than being tapped on the shoulder by a headless ghost.

  I’m fine with horses when they’re going at a slow canter, but as soon as they speed up I can’t stop myself from closing my eyes and sobbing.

  I thought things might be different now that I’m a knight, but sadly not.

  Sir Lionel set up a long pole with a shield on the end, which he called a quintain. I had to pretend it was my opponent and charge at it.

  I held my lance out, put on my fiercest warrior face, and pressed my legs into the sides of the horse.

  We set off. The shield was getting closer. We were picking up speed. I felt my fierce warrior face turn into a fearful wimp one. I dropped the lance and threw my hands over my eyes as the horse raced past the untroubled shield.

  We tried again. And again.

  Every time the horse got near to a gallop, I closed my eyes, dropped the lance, and wailed.

  After I’d done this a few times, I heard laughter coming from the battlements. I looked up and saw that a huge crowd, including Thomas and Geoffrey, had gathered to watch my disastrous training.

  Sir Lionel was blushing bright red. He said we should forget the jousting and think of something else I could do to impress the visitors during the tournament, such as play the harp.

  February 20th

  I went down to the castle dungeons today to chat with Gavin, our prisoner. He’s been there since long before I was born, and no one can remember exactly what he did wrong in the first place.

  He was on the rack today, laid out on a wooden frame with his ankles and wrists tied to rollers.

  He asked how I was doing, and I told him I’d been made a knight. He was really pleased, as he knows how much I wanted to be one. I often pop down to see him, and I’ve mentioned it quite a lot.

  I turned the top handle of the rack, wrenching his arms up. He let out a cry of agony and asked me how it was going so far. I told him all about my failed attempts to joust and walk downstairs, and he listened intently between his shrieks of pain.

  He said I should just try my best and stop worrying about what other people thought.

  He explained that when he first became a prisoner, he was terrible at it, begging to be spared from torture and pleading to be set free. But now he’s the best prisoner in the world, and he has a real talent for coping with unbearable pain. He would never have gotten where he is if he’d let other people’s opinions get to him.

  I think he’s right. If I want to be a brilliant knight I can become one, no matter what anyone else says.

  I thanked Gavin for his advice as I twisted the bottom handle of the rack, yanking his feet away from his body.

  GET REAL

  The rack was a grisly medieval torture device. It pulled the victim’s arms and legs in opposite directions, sometimes dislocating their joints and tearing their muscles. It was famously used by the Duke of Exeter when he was constable of the Tower of London, and it earned the nickname “The Duke of Exeter’s Daughter.”

  February 21st

  I spotted Leofric slumped in the corner of the great hall this morning. I asked him what was wrong, and he said he was jealous of how easily I could make everyone laugh. He said all I have to do is try to walk downstairs or sit on a horse and everyone cracks up. Yet he toils for ages on his gags and no one likes them.

  It’s weird when you think about it. He wants everyone to laugh at him, but they don’t. I don’t want everyone to laugh at me, but they do. If only we could swap.

  I told him I took great comfort in knowing there’s at least one person in the castle worse at their job than me. It didn’t seem to cheer him up.

  Leofric’s next performance will be at the feast following the tournament, and he’s worried about going down like a cup of cold dragon sick again.

  I helped him come up with some new jokes, and I think they’re better than his previous ones. The new material is all about the Froddington knights. Everyone really hates them, so it will be much easier to get the crowd going with stuff about them.

  Here are the new gags we came up with:

  “What do you call ten dead Froddington knights? A good start.”

  “Why did God invent Froddington knights? So peasants would have someone to look down on.”

  “What’s the difference between a Froddington knight and a full chamber pot? The chamber pot.”

  I told him to keep working on the Froddington material and he was bound to get laughs.

  February 22nd
br />   Disaster averted. We’ve sorted out the whole tournament thing. In addition to the jousting, there’s going to be a javelin contest. It’s really simple. You have to throw a spear as far as you can. It’s a really useful skill in battle, as you can pick off enemies from a safe distance.

  All I have to do is throw the javelin farther than all the others from our castle, and it won’t look weird that they made me a knight.

  Sir Lionel took me out to the fields behind the castle to see how far I could throw. He said he’d fix the contest to make sure I beat everyone else.

  I threw the javelin over and over again, and it kept hitting the same spot just a few feet ahead. Sir Lionel seemed really surprised I couldn’t get it farther and said it would be really difficult for the other knights to avoid beating me.

  They’ll just have to think of a convincing way to mess up their attempts. Maybe they can all sneeze or fall over as they throw or something.

  It doesn’t matter. The main thing is I’m going to win a contest and look brilliant in front of a massive crowd. Can’t wait.

  Chapter 5

  -

  Girl Trouble

  February 23rd

  The Bamwell knights arrived this morning and some had members of their families with them. My eye was immediately caught by Isolde, the daughter of a knight called Sir Maurice.

  She’s my age, a little taller than me, and has blue eyes and long blonde hair. She was wearing a green dress and one of those trendy steeple hats.

  I might as well admit it here in my secret diary–I fancy her. And now that I’m a dashing knight, she’s bound to fancy me too.