Igraine the Brave by Cornelia Funke Read Free Book Online

to be found.
    “Jost!” she called quietly when one of the grooms passed her. She had often seen him riding Lancelot. “Hi, Jost, where’s Bertram?”
    Alarmed, the groom grabbed her arm and hurried her into the harness room.
    “Are you mad, coming here?” he asked angrily, as they huddled in the darkest corner among saddles and bridles. “The new master’s had criers going everywhere to proclaim that your family are all witches and black magicians, and you’ve changed his men into fish for no good reason. Do you want him to throw you into the Dungeon of Despair?”
    “No, definitely not.” Igraine took a halter from its hook and put it in the egg basket. “I’m looking for Bertram. Where is he?”
    “Bertram?” Jost looked very gloomy indeed. “He’s in the dungeon already.”
    “Wh-what?” stammered Igraine. “Why?”
    “Osmund’s castellan saw him go out riding the day before yesterday,” whispered Jost. “He sent a man after him, and when Bertram came back from Pimpernel he was arrested for treachery.”
    “Oh, no!” groaned Igraine.
    “You’d better get back to Pimpernel fast!” hissed Jost. “Darkrock is no place for you these days!”
    And then he was gone, and Igraine stood in the dark harness room wondering what to do.
    Could a girl who truly wanted to be a knight leave a friend languishing in the Dungeon of Despair — a friend who was there only because he’d warned her family against an enemy? No!
    She fetched her donkey, who was having a fight with one of the ponies, and set off for the prison tower.
    Fortunately she knew her way around Darkrock very well, but too many of the maids and grooms knew her, so she kept her head bent as she made her way to the inner courtyard. She was in luck, and no one called her name or grabbed her arm, but as she entered the courtyard the Spiky Knight came toward her, with five other knights following him.
    Go on! she ordered her legs, but they refused to obey, and the Spiky Knight passed so close to her that his sword almost brushed her dress.
    “Right, this shouldn’t take too long,” he said to the other knights. “Pass the word on. As soon as the catapults arrive, we attack that ridiculous castle. Get your fat donkey out of my way, girl.”
    Head still bent, Igraine pulled the donkey aside. Her heart was thudding so hard that she thought the Spiky Knight was bound to hear it. But he didn’t even look at her.
    “With those Singing Books,” she heard him say, “Osmund will be more powerful than the King himself, and the whole land will belong to us, all the way to the Giant’s Hills.”
    Go on, Igraine, she told herself again, go on! And this time her legs obeyed, although her knees were still trembling when the prison tower cast its shadow at her feet. Never in her twelve years of life had anyone scared Igraine as much as the Spiky Knight.

10

     
    T he prison tower lay at the end of a dark yard right behind the castle armories. Only a single guard stood in front of it, a tall, thin man who was picking his teeth with a small stick and looked bored.
    “Only one,” Igraine murmured to herself, observing him from a distance. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.” Before she left, Albert had taught her ten magic spells for all kinds of different situations. One of them was sure to do the trick.
    “I’ll need your help, Graycoat,” she whispered in the donkey’s ear. “And no braying,” she added, for Graycoat enjoyed a good long, loud “Hee-haw!”
    “Or they’ll make you into donkey sausage and I’ll end up stuck in the Dungeon of Despair with Bertram, understand?”
    The donkey snorted scornfully, but when Igraine walked up to the guard he followed her like a lamb.
    “Good day,” said Igraine, bobbing a curtsy. “I’m supposed to be delivering my eggs here.”
    “Nonsense!” growled the man, spitting. “Does this look like the kitchen?”
    Igraine scrutinized the tower, frowning. “How would I know?”
    The guard