Free Feast Fight! by Peter Bently Page B

cheaper with one less guest to feed.”
    “How can you stop him?” I asked. “He’s been invited by the king himself.”
    I hated the idea of Sir Roland coming as much as Sir Percy did – especially as he’d bring his sneaky squire, Walter Warthog. But I didn’t see what Sir Percy could do about it.
    “Simple, Cedric,” said Sir Percy. “We must make sure Sir Roland never receives the king’s invitation.”
    Uh-oh. I was starting to learn that when Sir Percy said something was “simple” it usually ended up being difficult and dangerous.
    “But the baron’s already on his way to Blackstone Fort,” I said. Blackstone Fort is Sir Roland’s huge scary castle and I still shiver to think about the time Sir Percy got me to sneak into it at night.
    “Indeed, Cedric,” said Sir Percy. “But he’s heading to
Sir Spencer’s
castle first. It’s an hour away by the main road. If you cut through the wood on Gristle the mule you’ll easily catch him up.”
    “Me?” I said.
    “Of course, Cedric,” said Sir Percy. “It’ll be good practice for overtaking an enemy army. And then all you have to do is simply – um – retrieve the invitation from the baron.”
    “But Sir Percy!” I blurted. “Isn’t that …
stealing
?”
    “Nonsense!” said Sir Percy. “If Sir Roland never
has
his invitation, how can you
steal
it? Now go and saddle Prancelot for me. I have to pop into the village on – er – urgent banquet business. Hurry now!”
    I was about to ask how I was supposed to take the invitation without the baron noticing, but Sir Percy had already loped off into the castle.

Chapter Two
Malarkey at the Manor
    I stashed away the archery stuff in one of the castle cellars. Then I hurried to saddle Prancelot and Gristle. I was about to leave when Sir Percy came in with a large leather sack hoisted over his shoulder.
    “Prancelot’s all ready for you, Sir Percy,” I said from behind the door.
    “Oh!” he cried in alarm, dropping thesack. It landed on the cobbled floor with a clang. “I thought you’d already left!”
    “Sorry to startle you, Sir Percy,” I said. “One of Gristle’s stirrups was broken. I had to hunt for a spare. Here, let me pick that up.”
    “No!” said Sir Percy, hastily snatching up the sack and clutching it to his chest. “I mean, no – no need to bother, dear boy,” he added breezily. “Anyway, hadn’t you better be off?”
    “Yes, Sir Percy,” I said. I bowed and led Gristle from the stable. Sir Percy saw me out with a fixed smile. He was still standing there, clutching the sack and grinning at me over the stable door, as I rode across the courtyard and out of the castle. What was all that about?

    I’d assumed that Sir Percy’s “cut through the woods” was an actual path. But oh no. The only way to get to Spiffington Manor, Sir Spencer’s castle, was through a thick tangle of trees and undergrowth. Before long Gristle refused to go on, so I tied him to a tree and continued on foot. When I finally saw the gates of Spiffington Manor I’d been battered by branches, shredded by shrubs and scratched to bits by brambles.
    It had taken me an hour and a half and I was certain I’d missed the baron. As I walked up to the castle gates I saw a rider leaving, escorted by one of Sir Spencer’sguards. But as I got closer, I saw it wasn’t the baron at all but some kind of travelling merchant.
    “We ain’t interested,” I heard the guard say. “Now clear off.”
    “But my Bottom-Boil Balsam is the best in the kingdom,” said the merchant. “It cures all pains in the posterior!”
    “I said clear off,” barked the guard. “Now!
    Or I’ll give
you
a pain in the posterior – with me pike!”

    “Tell you what,” said the merchant. “I’ll leave you this leaflet with my special offers.”
    He handed a scroll of parchment to the guard – who just tossed it over his shoulder. The wind caught it and carried it off.
    “I said
now
!” he glowered.
    “All right,