Tournament Trouble: Sword Girl Book 3 by Frances Watts Page B

ride in the tournament,’ Tommy said. ‘Think how disappointing it would be to miss out. I wish I was riding in the tournament.’
    â€˜Ah, but tournaments are not just for fun, you know,’ said the cat. ‘They’re a good opportunity for knights and squires to practise their skills so they’re ready for battle. And you have a big responsibility, Tommy. Our knights need their swords to be in top condition if they are to perform well in the tournament. They are depending on their Keeper of the Blades.’
    â€˜You’re right,’ said Tommy, feeling guilty when she recalled her earlier grumbling in the sword chamber.
    â€˜What about me?’ said the crocodiddle. ‘Are they depending on me too?’
    â€˜Of course they are,’ said the cat. ‘We all depend on you all the time.’
    The crocodiddle grinned, showing two enormous rows of teeth.
    Tommy stood up. ‘I’d better have some dinner and go to bed,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot of important work to do tomorrow.’

    The next morning, as she crossed the courtyard on her way to the armoury, Tommy saw the small round figure of the physician staring into the sky. ‘Pigeon … Oh, Pigeon …’ he was calling. At first nothing happened, then there was a flutter of grey feathers and a cross voice said, ‘I gave you some droppings the day before yesterday. How can you have run out already?’ The carrier pigeon came to rest on a low wall.

    â€˜There’s been an accident,’ the physician explained. ‘One of the squires fell during practice yesterday afternoon and he’s badly hurt. I need some more droppings to make the cure.’
    â€˜How is Edward?’ Tommy asked.
    The physician looked grave. ‘Broken leg,’ he said. ‘I doubt he’ll be riding a horse again anytime soon.’
    A broken leg? So poor Edward would have to miss out on the tournament after all, Tommy thought as she entered the armoury.
    As usual, the air in the armoury was warm from the fire of the forge and the stones echoed with the clanging of a hammer striking metal.
    â€˜I just saw the physician,’ Tommy reported when the smith paused in his work. ‘Edward has broken his leg.’
    â€˜So, Flamant Castle will be one squire short for the tournament, eh?’ the smith observed. ‘Sir Walter won’t like that.’
    â€˜Quite right,’ said a voice behind them, making Tommy jump.
    â€˜Sir Benedict,’ she said.
    â€˜Good morning, Tommy,’ said the knight. ‘Morning, Smith.’
    The smith put down his hammer. ‘Is it your shield again, Sir Benedict?’ he asked.
    â€˜I’m afraid so,’ said Sir Benedict. ‘The strap has broken.’
    The smith took the shield Sir Benedict held out and inspected it. ‘If you didn’t sling it around so much, you wouldn’t have so many broken straps,’ he told the knight.
    If Flamant Castle’s bravest knight minded the smith telling him how to fight, he didn’t show it. He smiled and said, ‘You’re probably right, Smith. But can you fix it?’
    The smith squinted at the strap then said, ‘I s’pose I could do a quick fix with tacks, but you’ll have to leave it with me – I’ve got all these other shields to see to first.’
    â€˜Of course,’ said Sir Benedict. ‘And how about you, Tommy? Are we keeping you busy too?’
    â€˜Yes, sir,’ said Tommy. She led him into the sword chamber and showed him the pile of swords waiting for her attention. The pile seemed to have doubled in size overnight. ‘But I don’t mind.’

    â€˜Good girl. But I’ve got another job for you, Tommy. As you just heard, Edward’s accident has left us one squire short for the tournament. What do you say?’
    Tommy wasn’t sure she’d understood. ‘Do you mean … me?’ she asked.
    Sir Benedict