Life Stinks! by Peter Bently Read Free Book Online Page B

terrified (and stupid) I was and felt what it was like to be a
real
knight.
    But only for a few moments. All of a sudden the crowd stopped cheering and went, “Ooooh!” as they looked away from me towards the other end of the jousting ground.
    Entering the lists directly opposite me was Sir Roland the Rotten. Wearing his best blood-red armour and a bronze boar’s head on his helmet, he looked evenmore terrifying than usual. In one hand he wielded a particularly sharp-looking lance. In the other was the black rat. It was wriggling a lot and Sir Roland seemed to be having a problem keeping it under control. A handful of people in the crowd cheered, “Go on, Sir Roland!” but most of them remained silent.
    Sir Roland’s visor was up. Mine, of course, was firmly shut.
    “Too scared to show your face, eh, Percy?” he boomed.
    His few fans tittered. The rat squirmed. The rain began to bucket down. It dripped into the slits in my visor and made it harder to see.

    Then several trumpets sounded a fanfare and the chief herald announced, “Pray silence for the king and queen!”
    I gasped. For the first time I looked properly at the figures seated on large thrones in the centre of the grandstand. They were both wearing crowns and I realized that not only was I about to look an utter idiot – and possibly a dead idiot at that – but I was going to do it in front of none other than the king and queen. As I had this thought the king stood up and the crowd fell completely silent.
    “Sir Percy and Sir Roland, I bid you welcome to the tournament,” the king boomed. He was a tall man with a red faceand an impressive black beard with a big white streak in it. From the way he filled out his splendid purple and green royal robes, I’d definitely say he was fond of the odd roast boar or two.
    “Now then, chaps,” the king went on heartily. “I like nothing more than a jolly good joust, so I’m relying on you to give me and the queen here a tip-top afternoon’s entertainment, eh? Oh, if I were just a few years younger I’d be down there like a shot duelling with the pair of you. Just like at that tournament when—”
    “Ahem!” said the queen in a very loud whisper. “Do get on with it, Fredbert. The guests are getting peckish.”
    “Quite right, my dear. Mustn’t delay the after-joust banquet, eh?” the king guffawed. “Knights, let the joust begin!”
    The crowd held its breath. The only sound was the
clunk!
of Sir Roland’s visor as he slammed it shut.
    He lifted his lance and pointed it straight in my direction. Then he jabbed his horse with his heels and before I knew it a massive red mountain of metal was heading my way.
    Right, this is it
. I thought to myself.
Why did I ever agree to this crazy plan?
    Now Sir Roland was charging at full gallop, his horse’s hooves pounding the earth like thunder.

    I was trembling so much that I lost my balance and had to dig my heels hard into Prancelot’s side to stop myself slipping out of the saddle.
    Unfortunately, she took this as a command to charge and moments later we were galloping headlong in the rain towards Sir Roland.
    “Go for it, Sir Percy!” cheered the crowd.
    It was all I could do to cling on for grim life, my heavy lance swaying all over the place as the gap between me and Sir Roland got narrower and narrower.
    Suddenly, we were almost level. I could see Sir Roland’s black rat scramble up on to his helmet as he aimed his lanceright at my heart.
    I ducked just in the nick of time! I nearly fell off, but at least Sir Roland had missed me.
    Then I heard a metallic clunk and a great “oooh!” from the crowd. It was only when I heard the king declare, “One hit to Sir Percy!” that I turned to see what had happened. Sir Roland had removed his helmet and was inspecting it. He looked furious. I spotted the boar crest lying on the ground. By some fluke, my lance must have knocked it off!
    “You’ll pay for this, Percy!” fumed Sir Roland.
    “Knights,