to Patchcoat. “And fast!”
Looking around the square in desperation, I noticed two things. First, the square was on a bit of a slope, with the castle at the higher end and the platform at the bottom. Second, all the castle guards had sneaked into the crowd to see the execution. The castle was totally unguarded. I had a sudden thought.
“Patchcoat, make for the castle!” I said.
“Eh?” said Patchcoat. “The king isn’t there , Ced!”
“But Sir Roland is!” I panted. “ He’ll have to stop the execution! He can’t hate Sir Percy that much! Come on!”
We jostled our way out of the crowd and sprinted across the square. We were already on the drawbridge when I spotted the dung cart. The dung merchant was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the crowd, too. I had a flash of inspiration.
“You go and find Sir Roland!” I said. “I’ve got an idea. Hurry!”
As Patchcoat scurried off into the castle I ran to the cartload of dung.
I reached the cart and fumbled frantically with the horse’s harness.
“Right, folks, it’s almost showtime!” bawled Lurk. “This one’s a real block buster, muh-huh-huh!”
“My good fellow, I insist that you release me at once,” said Sir Percy. “I shan’t ask you again!”
“Funny you should say that,” grinned Lurk.
“That’s it, Lurk, keep ’em coming!” I mumbled. Every joke he cracked gave me a few extra seconds to save my master.
At last I freed the horse from its harness and shooed it in the direction of a pile of juicy carrots on a nearby stall.
“What’s up, Sir Percy?” quipped Lurk. “You look a bit pale. Got a headache? Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect cure! Muh-huh-huh!”
I ran to the back of the cart and gave it a shove. It didn’t budge. My heart stopped as I saw the guards seizing Sir Percy by the arms.
I tried again. “One, two, three… HEAVE!”
At last the heavy cart began to move – slowly at first, then gathering speed as it trundled downhill.
The church clock struck two.
The dung cart was now hurtling out of control. Someone yelled, “Watch out!” andthen there was mayhem as people dived out of the way.
“Right. Time to get yer head down, Sir Percy,” said Lurk, running his thumb along the blade of his axe. “Before you know it you’ll be droppin’ off! Muh-huh-h… Eh? What? ’Ere! STOP THAT CART!”
But it was too late. Lurk could only stand there gawping as the crowd parted, the guards leaped for cover, and the dung cart crashed into the platform with an almighty CRRR-UNCH!
“Aargh!”
The cart shed its load and sent an avalanche of steaming manure flying over Lurk. I’d done it!
A moment later, there was another kerfuffle nearby and the royal hunting party rode into the square, with the sheriff and his henchmen as prisoners.
“Shivering shield-straps!” bellowed the king, seeing the platform. “Has someone ordered an execution? I can’t stand executions. I’ll have someone’s head for this!”
Just then, Patchcoat came out of the castle accompanied by Sir Roland.
“Where are all the guards, Sir Roland?” demanded the queen. “You were supposed to be in charge of the castle while we were out hunting!”
“And you were supposed to keep order!” said the king, riding up. “The place is in chaos!”
“Er, well, I, er…” Sir Roland burbled sheepishly.
“The sheriff!” I cried. “He’s getting away!”
While the guards had been distracted by the commotion in the square, the sheriff had managed to break free.
“I’m off!” he cackled and sprinted for the town gates.
“You bumbling bunch of beetle-brains!” seethed the king. “Somebody stop him!”
It looked like the sheriff would escape again, but then I spotted something.
“Up there, Your Majesties!” I shouted. “On the battlements!”
A figure was running along the top of the town walls towards the gates. It looked like the dung merchant. Except forone thing. He was wearing a mask.
“It’s the Ghost of
Looking around the square in desperation, I noticed two things. First, the square was on a bit of a slope, with the castle at the higher end and the platform at the bottom. Second, all the castle guards had sneaked into the crowd to see the execution. The castle was totally unguarded. I had a sudden thought.
“Patchcoat, make for the castle!” I said.
“Eh?” said Patchcoat. “The king isn’t there , Ced!”
“But Sir Roland is!” I panted. “ He’ll have to stop the execution! He can’t hate Sir Percy that much! Come on!”
We jostled our way out of the crowd and sprinted across the square. We were already on the drawbridge when I spotted the dung cart. The dung merchant was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the crowd, too. I had a flash of inspiration.
“You go and find Sir Roland!” I said. “I’ve got an idea. Hurry!”
As Patchcoat scurried off into the castle I ran to the cartload of dung.
I reached the cart and fumbled frantically with the horse’s harness.
“Right, folks, it’s almost showtime!” bawled Lurk. “This one’s a real block buster, muh-huh-huh!”
“My good fellow, I insist that you release me at once,” said Sir Percy. “I shan’t ask you again!”
“Funny you should say that,” grinned Lurk.
“That’s it, Lurk, keep ’em coming!” I mumbled. Every joke he cracked gave me a few extra seconds to save my master.
At last I freed the horse from its harness and shooed it in the direction of a pile of juicy carrots on a nearby stall.
“What’s up, Sir Percy?” quipped Lurk. “You look a bit pale. Got a headache? Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect cure! Muh-huh-huh!”
I ran to the back of the cart and gave it a shove. It didn’t budge. My heart stopped as I saw the guards seizing Sir Percy by the arms.
I tried again. “One, two, three… HEAVE!”
At last the heavy cart began to move – slowly at first, then gathering speed as it trundled downhill.
The church clock struck two.
The dung cart was now hurtling out of control. Someone yelled, “Watch out!” andthen there was mayhem as people dived out of the way.
“Right. Time to get yer head down, Sir Percy,” said Lurk, running his thumb along the blade of his axe. “Before you know it you’ll be droppin’ off! Muh-huh-h… Eh? What? ’Ere! STOP THAT CART!”
But it was too late. Lurk could only stand there gawping as the crowd parted, the guards leaped for cover, and the dung cart crashed into the platform with an almighty CRRR-UNCH!
“Aargh!”
The cart shed its load and sent an avalanche of steaming manure flying over Lurk. I’d done it!
A moment later, there was another kerfuffle nearby and the royal hunting party rode into the square, with the sheriff and his henchmen as prisoners.
“Shivering shield-straps!” bellowed the king, seeing the platform. “Has someone ordered an execution? I can’t stand executions. I’ll have someone’s head for this!”
Just then, Patchcoat came out of the castle accompanied by Sir Roland.
“Where are all the guards, Sir Roland?” demanded the queen. “You were supposed to be in charge of the castle while we were out hunting!”
“And you were supposed to keep order!” said the king, riding up. “The place is in chaos!”
“Er, well, I, er…” Sir Roland burbled sheepishly.
“The sheriff!” I cried. “He’s getting away!”
While the guards had been distracted by the commotion in the square, the sheriff had managed to break free.
“I’m off!” he cackled and sprinted for the town gates.
“You bumbling bunch of beetle-brains!” seethed the king. “Somebody stop him!”
It looked like the sheriff would escape again, but then I spotted something.
“Up there, Your Majesties!” I shouted. “On the battlements!”
A figure was running along the top of the town walls towards the gates. It looked like the dung merchant. Except forone thing. He was wearing a mask.
“It’s the Ghost of
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