Free Feast Fight! by Peter Bently

Chapter One
An Arrowing Experience
    SWISH!
    “
Eeeek!
”
    THUNK! TWOINNNG!
    “Ah, I think we’ll call that a warm-up shot, Cedric,” said Sir Percy, lowering his bow. “Now be a good fellow and fetch the arrow.”
    “Y-yes, Sir Percy.”
    I walked shakily to the large oak treeand pulled out Sir Percy’s arrow. It was
exactly
where I’d been standing just a few seconds earlier.
    “Shift the target a bit to the left,” he said. “Those trees are spoiling my line of sight.”
    “Yes, Sir Percy,” I sighed. For the zillionth time that morning I lugged the target to a new spot. Sooner or later he might actually hit it. Just as long as he didn’t hit me first.
    “That’s better,” said Sir Percy. “And don’t stand so close to it. It puts me off my aim.”
    I
hadn’t
been standing close the last time. I’d been sheltering somewhere nice and safe – or so I’d thought. If I hadn’t dived out of the way, Sir Percy would have needed a new squire for the second time in three months.

    A knight is supposed to teach his squire proper knighting skills. But somehow my master – known to his many fans as Sir Percy the Proud – never quite gets round to it. Just like that morning, when he’d said he
might
let me have a go with the bow once he’d “warmed up”. Two hours of “warm-up shots” later I obviously wasn’t going to be firing my first arrow any time soon. I can safely say that Sir Percy couldn’t hit a castle gate if it was right in front of his nose.
    Actually, make that a
castle
.
    Could this really be the same famous knight who once shot a secret message tied to an arrow through the arrow-slit of a besieged castle? From half a mile away?At night? Blindfolded? It’s one of the best bits of
The Song of Percy
, Sir Percy’s wildly popular account of his knightly deeds. Hmmm. It wasn’t the first time I’d wondered whether
The Song of Percy
might be a bit … exaggerated.
    He notched another arrow to his bow and I quickly checked for a safe place to fling myself the moment he fired.
    “Ready, Cedric?”
    “Ready, Sir Percy.”
    All of a sudden I heard the sound of hooves among the trees. But before I could say anything, a gust of wind blew Sir Percy’s dashing new green and orange velvet hunting cap over his eyes.
    TWANGGG!
    “Bother!”
    Sir Percy fired blindly into the air.
    I leaped for cover, but luckily his arrow flew high over the trees.
    “Blasted breeze!” said Sir Percy, pushing the cap off his eyes. “Ah, well. No harm d—”
    “Aaargh!”
    There was a startled yell and a whinny. Then a grandly dressed man rode out of the trees looking alarmed – and very cross. Sir Percy’s arrow was sticking out of his saddle, right between his legs. A couple of inches the wrong way and … ouch!
    “This is an outrage!” roared the rider, who looked vaguely familiar. “Rainingarrows on me. I could have been cut off in my prime!”
    “My sincerest apologies,” said Sir Percy. “It was the wind.”
    “I don’t care about your personal problems,” said the man. He yanked the arrow out of his saddle and flung it at Sir Percy’s feet. “Next time, mind where you’re shooting, you careless twerp!”
    “Now look here,” scowled Sir Percy, puffing out his chest. “I will have you know that I, Sir Percy Piers Peregrine de Bluster de Bombast, will not be spoken to in that tone by the likes of-of—”
    “Fitztightly,” fumed the man. “Baron Buskin Fitztightly. Chief Herald ofHis Majesty the King. And good morning to you, Sir Percy.”
    Sir Percy’s face quickly switched to his cheesiest grin. It was better than one of Patchcoat the jester’s conjuring tricks.
    “Ah, my
dear
Baron Fitztightly!” declared Sir Percy, doffing his cap and sweeping an impressively smarmy bow.

    “Just my little joke! Of course I recognized you at once,” he fibbed. “
Delighted
to see your lordship. You are most welcome to Castle Bombast. And how
is
His Majesty? In fine health, I trust?”
    “You