Peter could think of nothing but the princess for the rest of the afternoon. He thought of her when he was riding home and almost ran into another rider. The rider cursed a blue streak, but he never heard him. He thought of her when he got home and fed his animal friends, not realizing he’d given Sir Dolenz a steak, Sir Nesmith tuna, and Sir Jones a bundle of hay.
He kept her picture by his side in his leather pouch throughout the day, pulling it out to gaze at it every now and then. He was staring at it when he was supposed to be scrubbing the front hall floor. He didn’t even hear Ronald when he burst into the room, waving the announcement, nor see him leave huge mud puddles on the clean hall floor.
”Father! Father!” He pushed past Peter, who stumbled over the bucket of water. He barely managed to keep it from falling over.
“What is it, Ronald? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Lord Henry poked his head out of his study. No one was allowed to enter his study but Ronald, and even Ronald seldom visited there. Lord Henry kept all of his important papers there, including spell books and potions he’d hidden from the rest of the household.
“Father, Princess Valerie is holding a contest!” He handed his father the announcement. “All of the eligible young men of the kingdom are to take part! The winner will receive her hand in marriage and half of the kingdom as her dowry!”
Lord Henry smirked. “It’s about time. I knew eliminating the princess’ protectors would push James to find her a permanent one.” He pushed his son to his room. “Well, don’t just stand there, boy! Get dressed! Get your sword! We have to get you ready for the contest!” He leaned closer to his son and whispered into his ear. “We’ll work on some spells, too. We have to make sure you’re the only winner. You’re gonna marry that Princess, and we’ll finally get our hands on Grenwicha and James’ treasury.”
“What about me?” Peter tried to get to his feet, but he slipped on the muddy floor in his thin-soled boots and ended up on his rear in the soapy water.
Lord Henry and Ronald laughed. “You?” Ronald snorted. “You, a clumsy peasant, win the Princess’ heart? How would you win, battle knights with your broomstick? Beat their rugs to death?” He smirked. “Oh yeah, you’d play them one of your silly ditties! That would really scare them!”
Peter frowned. He was proud of his musical ability. His teachers claimed he had the talent to be one of the greatest musicians Grenwicha ever knew. One teacher had said so to Lord Henry, and he’d taken Peter out of school shortly after.
Still, all he said was “I read the announcement too, Father. I saw it in town. It says that every eligible young man in Grenwicha is to attend.”
“You’re not eligible,” Lord Henry reminded him. “You have your regular chores to do, along with helping Ronald prepare for the contest. Besides,” he gazed at Peter’s ragged brown tunic and leggings, his jagged-cropped hair, and his worn boots, “you don’t have any clothes. You’d embarrass me going to the castle like that, and Ronald and I don’t have anything that fits.”
“But...”
“But nothing.” Lord Henry snorted. “You get to work on the floor again, boy. You missed spots.” He pointed to the mud puddles Ronald’s boots left. Peter just groaned.
He spent the rest of the day scrubbing the floor, then scrubbing it again when Lord Henry claimed he was still missing spots. He brought Ronald’s finest clothes from the seamstress and helped him dress. He polished his brother and father’s boots and weapons. He prepared Ronald and Lord Henry’s horses and served them their dinner.
Peter didn’t know it, but the animals watched him the whole day. The dog, cat, and horse tried to cheer their master up when he was doing his chores, but there wasn’t much they could do. Peter was miserable. He had so looked forward to taking part in the contests, but there was no arguing with Lord Henry. The three knew they had to do something to help their friend, who had saved their lives and been so good to them. The maids reported seeing them in a little huddle, barking and meowing and neighing as if they were making plans.
Peter tried again as he helped Ronald onto his horse. Ronald looked as dashing as he was going to get in his satin ruffled shirt, green brocade jacket, silk leggings, and leather boots. His father wore a less elaborate but still well-made gray suit. Large-brimmed, plumed hats shaded their heads. “Here you go, Father.” He handed him his sword, then handed Ronald his.
“All right, boy. We’ll be back before dark. Tell Cook not to wait up for us. We’ll eat out of the cupboards.”
“Father,” Peter stammered, gathering all his courage, “Father, could I....”
”What?” Lord Henry rolled his eyes. “Come on, kid, I ain’t got all day!”
The animals looked on hopefully. Sir Jones nudged his foot.
”Could I go with you, too? Even lead your horses?” “We don’t need you to lead,” Ronald snapped. “You’ll be in the way.”
Lord Henry glared at his son. “Let me handle this.” He turned to Peter. “You’re trying my patience, kid. Have you cleaned the barn yet, or watered the horses?”
“No, but I...”
Ronald made a face. “The princess wouldn’t want you there, anyway. She’s looking for a real man, not a dumb servant.”
Peter’s eyes filled with tears. His three pets glared at them. “I only wanted a chance.”
“You’re getting a chance to finish your chores,” Henry growled. “Keep your mind on that, and forget the contest.” The two left before Peter could protest further.
Peter ran back to the farm yard, ignoring the maids who gave him strange looks. He finally collapsed in despair in Sir Nesmith’s stall, tears running down his cheeks. The three animals followed him. Sir Jones climbed into his lap. Sir Dolenx rubbed his hand. Sir Nesmith nudged him, letting him lean on his velvety muzzle.
“It...it’s not fair,” he sobbed. “All I wanted was to meet Princess Valerie. I wish I were a nobleman or a knight, then they wouldn’t mind it if I joined the contest.” He sighed. “Even if I could finish my chores in time, where would I get fine clothes or a weapon?”
The animals gathered in a group again, Nesmith leaning down as well as he could to conference with the other two. Peter watched them, surprised. “What’s going on? It almost seems like you’re discussing something.”
The trio finally turned to Peter. Jones and Dolenz tugged at his leggings, trying to get him out the door. “What is it?” Nesmith gently nudged his back. “Hey!” He sighed and wiped his eyes on the back of his tunic sleeve. “I guess you want me to leave. I would, I really would, but Father will be angry if I don’t at least get started on the barn.”
The animals were relentless, though, and they kept tugging and pushing him, right out to the main road. “What are we doing here?” Nesmith tugged at him now, trying to pull him onto his back. “All right, boy, but we can’t be too long. I need to get the barn done.” He put Sir Dolenz and Sir Jones on first, then climbed on himself. Sir Dolenz scrambled to his favorite position between Sir Nesmith’s ears.
Peter had no idea where they were going, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. Nesmith lead them off the main path and up the hills, into the deepest part of the woods. He finally came out in a clearing surrounded by odd, musty, bluish mist. Two cages dangled from the trees, both scratched and splintered, as if clawed by wild animals. A pile of broken sticks lay under another tree.
“I don’t like this,” Peter murmured. “Those cages look like hunters’ traps.”
Nesmith lead him past the cages to three swords stuck in a stump. Each was a different size and had a different colored handle. Sir Dolenz leaped off of Nesmith’s head and tried to tug at the long, slender one with the red handle.
“Let me help you with that.” Peter got off of Sir Nesmith and went over to the cat. He grasped the handle of the red sword and pulled at it. To his surprise, it came out easily.
Peter wasn’t quite sure what happened next. A glittering red mist surrounded him, blinding him. He coughed and choked. When it subsided, he felt...unlike himself. More confident and clever.
Peter stood dumbfounded at first, staring at his transformation. He now wore a red velvet suit with purple trim and a wide-brimed hat with a huge red plume that hid most of his face. His gold hair was pulled back with a red ribbon. The animals barked and meowed and neighed their approval.
He pointed the sword at his three friends as the mist enveloped them. Sir Nesmith was now covered with a red velvet blanket and a beautiful deep brown leather saddle, with red velvet around his nose. The dog and the cat were snuggled in a red velvet pouch on the horse’s side, both wearing red leather collars.
“I...I...can’t believe....” Sir Nesmith nudged him again. The cat and the dog pointed in the direction of Princess Valerie’s castle in the distance. “What if Father and Ronald recognize me? They’ll beat me and send me home!”
Sir Nesmith rolled his eyes and pulled Peter’s hat low over his eyes. Sir Dolenz climbed onto his shoulders and tugged up his collar. Sir Jones gave him a pair of white gloves. “A disguise,” he chuckled. “Good thinking.” He pushed the hat back up a little as Sir Dolenz returned to the pouch. “Come on. We’re going to enter that contest.”
Chapter 3
Chapter 5
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