Free The Knight of Spurs and Spirits by Terry Deary Page B

her a thrashing when I get back.”
    He stamped across the room and bellowed like a bull for his servants. “My riding boots! Where are my riding boots?”
    When a boot boy ran along the passage with the big, brown boots, the lord roared, “And I hope they’re clean. One speck of mud and you’ll be thrashed.”

    “Clean as a raindrop, Sir Robert,” the boy said proudly.
    “Marvellous!” the last knight of Hylton chuckled, as he pulled them on. “And my spurs – fetch me my best silver spurs!”
    A groom of the chamber brought in the shining spurs, a heavy, green cloak and a riding hat with a pheasant feather stuck in the side. “Your riding clothes, sire,” the man bowed and bobbed.

    “Marvellous! Now I am ready to go!” said Sir Robert.
    The groom of the chamber gave a slippery smile. “Haven’t we forgotten something?” he asked in a teasing voice.

    Sir Robert hated that. He hated it when servants were smart and smug. He kept his temper. “I have forgotten something … I was just seeing if you remembered, George.”
    “Geoffrey.”
    “What?”
    “My name is Geoffrey, sire!”
    “Whatever your name is … you have forgotten something,” the knight said sharply.
    The servant brought his right hand from behind his back. “I don’t think so. Here it is!”

    Sir Robert looked at the stick with the large, silver knob on the top. “My hunting whip. Ah … yes … of course!” he said, snatching it from the slippery servant’s slimy hand. “You’ve passed the test, George. Well done!”
    “Thank you, sire,” the servant bowed.
    “Marvellous! Now,” the knight said, as he marched through the hall and threw open the front gate, “I’m ready to go. Lead on, huntsman!”
    The huntsman stood by a pair of grey deerhounds. “I think you have forgotten something, sire,” he said.
    “I think not! I have my boots, my cape, my hat and my whip. What more do I need?” shouted Sir Robert. “What more? Eh? Tell me!”
    The huntsman coughed into his hand. “Ahem … your horse, sire, your horse!”

    Sir Robert turned redder than a robin’s chest. “Yes! Yes! I know that ! I know. No need to tell me…” He looked around wildly. “I … I told that Mary girl to tell the Skeleton boy to bring it round to the front door, didn’t I?”
    Mary the maid was standing at the kitchen door, just along from the main gate. She turned pale.
    “Oh, no, Sir Blobber! You just said get it beddy … I mean ret it geddy! I mean…”

    Lord Hylton hated to look a fool. He strode toward the maid and raised his whip. “First … first you tell me it’s a sunny day…”
    “It was when the sun set this morning … I mean when the rose shine sunned this…”
    “And then … then you failed to tell Skeleton to fetch my horse!”
    “Skelton, Roger Skelton, sir…”
    “And now … now !” he said, and raised the whip. “Now you call me a liar!”

    The whip came down. Mary raised her hands to her head and turned away. The whip caught her across the shoulders and made her sob.
    “I will go and ask Skeleton myself,” the knight raged. “I will ask him if he was told to bring the horse to the main gate. I am a knight! I don’t walk around getting my own horses, do I?” he asked and raised the whip again.
    “Please, sir, no, sir!” Mary cried and scuttled back into the doorway.
    The whip came down and missed her fleeing form. It hit the doorpost and made Sir Robert madder … madder than a wasp with toothache.
    “Someone will pay for this!” the knight screamed, and the ravens on the castle roof rose into the air in panic. “I’ll kill Skeleton the skiver!” he roared.
    Sir Robert Hylton marched off to the stables.

Chapter Four
Straw and Sneezes
    Roger Skelton was dreaming of eating a warm pie in a warm bed. As he was about to eat it, the pie was snatched from him by a skeleton…

    “Skeleton!” came the loud voice. Roger knew that voice. “Skeleton!”
    Roger stirred in the hay and slowly woke