CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP.
Tommy woke to the sound of a horse’s hooves on the flagstones of Flamant Castle’s great courtyard.
She sprang out of bed, worried that she must have slept in, but there was no light coming through the small window set high in the thick stone wall. Puzzled, Tommy climbed back into bed.
Who could be arriving in the dead of the night? It must be a messenger, she thought. And the message must be urgent for him to arrive at this hour. The castle’s sentries would never have lowered the drawbridge otherwise.
She listened for signs of activity in the courtyard below. A groom would be fetched to lead the messenger’s horse to the stables, and a page would be sent for to take the messenger to Sir Benedict, the castle’s bravest knight. If the news was very serious, maybe even Sir Walter the Bald, the nobleman who owned the castle, would be woken.
All was quiet, however, except for a soft, ‘Woah there,’ followed by the clip-clop of hooves heading in the direction of the stables.
Tommy lay awake, wondering about what she had just heard. Where had the messenger come from? And why had no one come to greet him? The questions chased round and round in her mind until at last she fell into an uneasy sleep.
The next thing she knew, sun was streaming in through the little window. Down below she could hear carts clattering across the flagstones of the courtyard as the local merchants made their deliveries to the kitchen.
Oh no! She’d slept in!
Tommy leaped out of bed and pulled on her tunic and leggings. She didn’t want to be late for her work in the armoury. Since becoming Flamant Castle’s Keeper of the Blades, Tommy looked after all the bladed weapons. It was a very important job, as the knights who defended the castle relied on her to keep their swords sharpened and polished. If she did her job well, Tommy hoped that she might become a squire and train to be a knight herself.
‘Good morning, Mrs Moon,’ Tommy said as she entered the kitchen. Even though she wasn’t a kitchen girl anymore, she still took her meals at the long table where she used to peel potatoes, dreaming that one day she would be holding a sword instead of a paring knife.
‘Good morning, Thomasina,’ the cook replied. She cut a slice of bread from a giant loaf. ‘You’ll catch flies in there if you’re not careful,’ she observed as Tommy opened her mouth wide in a yawn.
‘Excuse me,’ said Tommy, covering her mouth. ‘I woke up in the middle of the night when that messenger arrived. He must have had important news.’
‘A messenger in the middle of the night?’ Mrs Moon sounded doubtful. ‘Perhaps you dreamed it.’
When she had finished her bread and a glass of milk, Tommy hurried across the courtyard towards the armoury. Was it possible that she had dreamed the sound of a horse’s hooves? As if in answer to her question, a shrill neigh rang out, followed by another, then another. It sounded as if all the castle’s horses were in distress!
Tommy immediately ran towards the archway that would take her to the stables. She had to see if Bess was all right.
Although Bess was Sir Benedict’s horse, Tommy had been allowed to ride her regularly ever since they had competed together in a tournament.
The small courtyard outside the stables was full of horses, all looking cross. Grooms and stable boys were trying to calm them. She found Bess stamping around near the water trough.
‘Are you all right?’ Tommy asked the chestnut mare. ‘I could hear neighing from the great courtyard.’
‘It’s that bay stallion who arrived last night,’ Bess grumbled. ‘He’s a cheeky rascal. Ever since he got here he’s been nothing but trouble, nipping and wanting to play, stealing other horses’ hay. He just won’t leave us in peace. We’ve had enough.’
‘It must be the horse of the messenger I heard in the night,’ said Tommy. ‘I’ll talk to the stable master about him. Maybe he can be stabled somewhere else so that he doesn’t disturb the castle’s horses.’
Tommy found the tall, wiry stable master in the far corner of the yard. He was talking to Sir Benedict.
‘I don’t know what’s got into them,’ the stable master was saying. ‘They all just went berserk.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Tommy spoke up. ‘It’s the bay stallion that’s the problem. The messenger’s horse.’
Both men turned to look at Tommy, clearly surprised to see her.
‘Shouldn’t you be in the armoury, Tommy?’ the knight asked.
‘Yes, Sir Benedict. I was on my way there when I heard the horses. I wanted to make sure Bess was all right.’
‘She’s fine,’ said the stable master. ‘Not as highly strung as some of the others.’ He tilted his head in the direction of a black gelding who was bucking and kicking in the centre of a circle of stable hands. ‘But what’s this about a bay stallion? There’s no bay stallion in the stables.’
‘It’s the messenger’s horse,’ Tommy repeated. ‘The one who arrived last night.’
The stable master looked at Sir Benedict questioningly.
The knight shook his head. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, Tommy. No messenger arrived in the night. I spoke to the sentries myself not ten minutes ago and they would have reported the arrival of a stranger.’
‘Oh.’ Tommy blinked. ‘I’m sorry. I – I must have made a mistake.’
Embarrassed, Tommy walked back through the archway to the great courtyard. So Mrs Moon had been right. There had been no horse and rider in the night; it was all a dream.
Then she stopped. But if it was only a dream, what about the bay stallion Bess had mentioned?