The Secret of the Swords by Frances Watts Page B

have imagined the voice. Just as she had imagined her broom was a wooden sword, like Reynard’s. She looked at the broom, which she still grasped in both hands. Reynard could practise with his wooden sword and one day become a squire. Tommy could practise with her broom as much as she liked, but she would still only be a kitchen girl. It was time she gave up her impossible dreams of becoming a knight, of fighting battles and winning tournaments. She should be dreaming proper kitchen-girl dreams, of growing up and becoming … a cook. Lowering the broom to the ground, she began to sweep.
    Behind her, the cat finished its bath, stretched, and walked away.

    The sun had sunk below the battlements when Tommy returned to the kitchen. Her arms ached from the constant motion of sweeping, and even when she closed her eyes from weariness she could still see the endless rows of f lagstones. All she wanted was a bowl of soup then to fall into bed, but Mrs Moon had other ideas. She wanted to scold Tommy some more.
    â€˜Now I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Thomasina,’ the cook began. ‘And there’ll be no more of this nonsense about—’
    â€˜Ah, excuse me.’ In the doorway stood a man so tall his dark hair nearly brushed the top of the doorframe.
    â€˜Sir Benedict!’ Mrs Moon exclaimed. ‘Goodness me, what brings you to the kitchen, sir?’
    â€˜I’m looking for one of your kitchen girls,’ said the knight. ‘Her name is Tommy, I believe. I hear she had a bit of bother with one of the boys from the armoury.’
    Tommy looked at the floor in dismay. She never should have fought that horrible Reynard!
    â€˜Thomasina!’ Mrs Moon’s voice was shrill. ‘What have you been up to, girl?’
    Sir Benedict turned to Tommy. ‘I’ve been told you like to watch the knights practise.’

    Tommy blushed but didn’t say anything. Had someone been watching her while she was watching the knights?
    â€˜And I hear you know how to handle a sword,’ Sir Benedict continued. ‘Or a broom, rather.’ His blue eyes twinkled.
    â€˜I love swords, sir,’ Tommy blurted out. ‘Much more than brooms,’ she added.
    Mrs Moon said tartly, ‘That’s no use to me in the kitchen, girl. I’d rather you knew how to handle a paring knife.’
    â€˜You are quite right,’ the knight said. ‘Tommy is no use in the kitchen.’
    Oh no! Did Sir Benedict mean to throw her out of the castle? But she had nowhere else to go! No family, no home. Flamant Castle was her only home.
    â€˜That is why,’ Sir Benedict continued, ‘I would like to offer Tommy a job in the armoury.’
    Tommy’s mouth dropped open. ‘In the armoury, sir?’ she whispered.
    Sir Benedict nodded. ‘That’s right. One of the boys, Edward, has become a squire, so I am looking for someone to take his place. Edward looked after all the bladed weapons: the swords and daggers. What do you say, Tommy? Will you be the castle’s new Keeper of the Blades?’

CHAPTER 3

    T HE K EEPER of the Blades … Tommy was swelling with pride as she walked across the courtyard to the armoury the next morning, ready to start her new job.
    Even Mrs Moon had been impressed that Sir Benedict himself had come to the kitchen. After the knight had left, she filled a bowl with hearty bean soup for Tommy. And even better, she gave Tommy a tunic and a pair of leggings that her son had outgrown. ‘Much more suitable for a Keeper of the Blades than a torn dress,’ the cook had remarked.
    When she entered the armoury, the first thing Tommy noticed was the noise. The blacksmith was bent over a sturdy wooden bench, hammering a large sheet of metal. The sound echoed off the stone walls, which glowed with the light from the fireplace set against the back wall.
    As her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Tommy looked around. She saw an assortment of