It is a dangerous time in which we find our young hero Geoff Stogley, knight in training and seeker of adventure – the land was barren, the people were hostile, and worst of all: the fridge was empty…
“More cake dear?” asked Geoff’s mother coming in from a fresh batch of baking, jam making and every other culinary, maternal pastime that, for her, involved too much sugar and not enough attention.
“No thanks mum,” groaned Geoff resignedly. He’d seen this coming, he knew that a visit to his parents would result in being plied relentlessly with burnt, sweet offerings, debated with himself endlessly about whether he really needed the extra glucose and pleasantries of an awkward family gathering, but in the end, the void in his fridge won out… besides, his shirt needed ironing.
“So, how are you getting on with work dear?” asked his mother, iron in one hand and a fresh batch of scones in the other.
“Mum, if you’re asking whether I’m still a knight searching for adventure then –”
“I do wish you’d stop calling unemployment that Geoffrey,” his mother cut in,
“you make it sound so childish – you know how much your father and I worry about you, and you know we won’t always be here to feed you when you run out of food, how will you –”
“Okay mum, I know!” said Geoff in frustration, “stop fussing, I’m a grown man now, I’ll be fine!” What’s the use, he thought, his parents never understood his dream of adventure – when he was little it was cute, he used to ride around on his wooden horse shouting, “Make way for Sir Geoffolot, I’m here to slay the dragon!” Then, when he was a teenager they called it a faze, “he’ll grow out of it,” they said, “it’s just a show of individualism, of wanting to break free from the boundaries imposed by society, it won’t last,” but it did. Over the years, Geoff had tried various jobs in the hope of adventure, but none of them seemed to suit him, none of them seemed to have the romantic, Arthurian ring to them like rescuing princesses from evil magicians or slaying fire breathing dragons – the closest he’d got to that was a spell as a postman – but risking life and limb to get past a small dog somehow doesn’t sound quite as impressive as getting past a dragon, even if it was just to deliver Mrs Snibb’s weekly copy of the Radio Times, besides, the dog was called Moppet and it liked him.
All the same, he couldn’t help noticing how old they suddenly seemed, standing together in the doorway like the last two sardines in the tin.
“I know you’ll get a job son,” said his father as he left, “we know you won’t let us down.”
Great! Thought Geoff, so on top of all my worries, I’ve now got guilt as well, just great! Nonetheless, it weighed on his mind (or perhaps that was all his mother’s cooking), and later that evening, he promised that he would find himself a job the very next day.
Geoff had been to his local job centre so many times in the past that almost all the advisors knew his details off by heart, all of them knew that he had attended St. Muddleduck’s middle school and was suspended for a week in year nine due to an unfortunate incident with a supposed ‘damsel in distress’ and the class hamster, Nibbles, which also resulted in the school banning him from hamsters and the whole of the top floor. They had also all heard about his brief time as a royal gardener, and his unfortunate loss of that job after becoming convinced that a princess needed rescuing from the palace – he’d only narrowly escaped charges of kidnap after pleading insanity and promising never to go within half a mile of any royal palace again. Ever. All in all, this meant that Geoff did not like to visit his job centre any more; there was too much sniggering and jokes at his expense, but today it seemed unavoidable, so as he trod gloomily towards humiliation, his eyes and ears were tuned for any opportunity or excuse for escape, and this is why, when he noticed two rather shady looking characters in black, baggy cloaks conversing down a side street, and heard one mention the word ‘knight’, he stopped to listen.
“We need that knight and we need him fast,” said the taller one pulling his hood lower over his eyes.
“Well it looks like he just ain’t gonna turn up, he’s late already and with a guy like him and that kinda pay, it wouldn’t surprise me if –”
He’d noticed Geoff watching and the two men turned sharply.
“What d’you want?” asked the shorter man roughly.
“Err… well,” said Geoff uncertainly, I heard you mention ‘knight’ and ‘pay’ and, well I was intrigued because –”
“What have you heard? How much do you know?” The short man advanced menacingly upon him menacingly. Close up, Geoff could see that his head was shaped like a lemon, with tiny ears at either end of a wide, sour-looking mouth, squashed nose and pale, watery eyes.
“Calm down Bert, you never know…” the taller man turned thoughtfully to Geoff, “what’s your name?” He demanded.
“G-Geoff Stogley,” stuttered Geoff, trying to look tough, “gallant knight and adventurer,” he knew how strange this introduction must have sounded, but he’d also learnt that it came in very useful in awkward situations as it usually resulted in laughter even amongst the most hostile of strangers. But this time, to Geoff’s dismay, nobody laughed, instead, a kind of dawning recognition appeared on the two men’s faces. Suddenly, the man called Bert ran up to him and, taking by the arm said in a kind of awe, “so you are our knight! Oh Mr Stogley sir, we’re so sorry, you should’ve said! Follow me, follow me, this way now!” and with that, he began tugging Geoff down the alleyway by his sleeve, in the steps of the tall man who was already striding off into the darkness ahead.
“But,” protested Geoff.
“We can’t talk here I’m afraid Sir Stogley – you never know who could be watching!”
Sir Stogley?!? Thought Geoff as he stumbled down the alleyway after the two men. What’s going on? He vaguely remembered thinking about making a run for it, but an idea that was growing in the corner of his mind began to take over – could this be it? He wondered. Could this be his big break, the beginning of his adventures as a gallant knight in shining armour? Somehow, he doubted it, but one never knows…
They hurried on through three more dark alleyways until they reached a small metal door at the back of a disused warehouse. The taller man got out what looked like a small penknife from his pocket and pressed the blade into a slot on the doorframe, a faint bell was ringing far on the other side and shortly, a slot about the size of a letterbox opened in the middle of the door.
“Password?” demanded a voice through the slot.
“Shut up,” said the tall man mildly.
“Oh I wished you’d change the password Tolley,” grumbled the voice, “I mean, how would you like it…” The door creaked open – there was no one behind it.
They entered a small room furnished with nothing but a faded red carpet and a number of green armchairs in which Bert and the man called Tolley sat and motioned for Geoff to do the same.
“Right,” said Tolley, “first things first, this is Squire Bertington – I’m sure you’ve heard about his role in the capture of the Round Table.”
“Please, call me Bert,” mumbled Bert modestly.
“And I,” continued Tolley, “am Lady Tolé-cannal, just call me Tolley,” before Geoff could register his surprise at this, Tolley pulled down her hood with a flourish revealing metres of long, red hair that flowed down to her waist, “and we’re pleased to be of service,” she added with a bow.
Geoff was very confused by now, he’d been called a knight and taken off to a secret room by two robed men, one of whom turned out to be a woman, and now they were at his service?! He was just about to celebrate his confusion by speaking when Tolley spoke again.
“And now to business,” she said sternly, “I trust you’ve already been briefed on your quest at the Castle, so just to clarify – your goal is to find and demobilise the Red Dragon. On the way back from the field you will encounter our Messenger, who will give you the gold – bring that straight back here – you’ll get fifteen percent. Don’t try to take more or disappear, you know how the Round Table deals with traitors.”
“But,” stammered Geoff, but he stopped there as he really couldn’t think of anything to say to follow a threat like that and still allow him to get away intact, so he said, “but,” again, in the slight hope that it might strengthen his argument.
“There’s no time to lose!” cut in Bert urgently, “so if you don’t have any questions sir, this way please.”
Geoff was now completely at a loss, he didn’t know what was going on or where Bert was taking him, but he also didn’t like the menace in Tolley’s voice, and a vague hope for adventure was still in the back of his mind, so he decided not to say anything, at least until he knew more about what was going on.
Twenty minutes later, Geoff was standing rather uncomfortably in a policeman’s uniform, none the wiser, and none the happier.
“Right,” announced Bert cheerfully, “you’ll be wanting your trusty steed now, I expect.”
A horse? Thought Geoff, his fear and confusion vanishing as he began imagining images of glory and mounted knights in shining armour. I’m really going on a quest! He thought. Geoff’s mind buzzed with excitement – it was just going to be like the legends, a bold knight in armour riding off on his trusty steed to slay the evil dragon – well, not the armour bit, what with all the police gear, but… It occurred to Geoff as he followed Bert into a walled, cobbled courtyard that he’d never ridden a horse before.
“Meet Radish!” announced Bert, gesturing grandly towards a beautiful red mare in a police-horse’s jacket tethered to a post in a corner of the yard. Her coat was sleek, her mane smooth and flowing and she looked politely inquisitive as she regarded the two men with her deep brown eyes.
“Up you get sir,” instructed Bert, grabbing hold of Radish’s reins and feeding her a sugar lump.
It can’t be all that hard, thought Geoff as he stepped uneasily onto a stirrup and gingerly swung his other leg round, at which point he promptly lost balance and fell off the other side of the saddle, landing in a tangled heap on the ground.
“Oopsie daisy!” chuckled Bert, helping him up, “not to worry sir, happens to me all the time when I’m nervous! Though of course,” he muttered sourly, “I’m not supposed to be a trained rider am I!”
With great difficulty, Geoff somehow managed to climb into Radish’s saddle, and stay on.
“Good, well, cheerio then,” said Bert handing him the reins, “good luck Sir Stogley!”
Geoff decided that this would probably be a good time to find out a bit more about what he’s supposed to be doing, or at least where to go.
“Err, this dragon,” he said cautiously, “where do I –”
“Where do you find him?” interrupted Bert, “oh don’t you worry about that sir, you know that old Raddles here always knows the way, don’t you old girl?” he gave the horse an affectionate scratch on the chin, then got out a small, calculator-like object from his pocket into which he keyed a couple of numbers. A low grating, grinding noise was heard as one of the walls of the courtyard moved aside, revealing a door leading onto the street outside, and before he knew what was going on, Geoff found himself and Radish outside, the wall closing up seamlessly behind them.
From here, they set off across London at a gentle trot, with Geoff clinging on for dear life. He was surprised at first that nobody seemed to take any notice of him or Radish as they rode across Piccadilly Circus in broad daylight, weaving in and out of the slow-moving traffic, then he remembered the police uniform and grinned mischievously. Pity none of them know that I am in truth a gallant knight off to save them all from the evil red dragon, he thought, oh well, ride on Sir Geoffolot!
He didn’t know how he was going to fight this red dragon, he wasn’t even aware until recently that dragons really existed – especially in central London. But, as with a lot of things that Geoff didn’t understand, he decided not to think about it until he needed to.
Before long, they reached a large building or stadium of some sort, huge crowds of excited people gathered at its gates and Geoff could see red and blue banners waving in the breeze. Controlling the crowd were a number of mounted policemen looking just like Geoff – only less confused… and tougher.
Just then, a small, shifty man with a large suitcase hurried up to them.
“You must be our knight,” he whispered to Geoff out of the corner of his mouth, “don’t worry, I’m the Messenger – call me Steve – I can always spot Radish from a mile off.”
“Oh,” under the circumstances, Geoff wasn’t really sure what else he could say to that.
“So you know what you have to do?” muttered Steve, “ the Red Dragon’s about to come out of that door there, just above the crowd; be casual, make it look like an accident, remember, you’re a policeman, I’ll find you when you’re done,” and before Geoff could reply, Steve had disappeared, leaving him feeling even more confused, also, he couldn’t help feeling rather irritated at the fact that the last part of that conversation seemed more to be directed at the horse. Radish must have thought so too, as she was now trotting purposefully towards the crowd, with Geoff clinging sweatily to the saddle.
As they drew nearer, Geoff noticed one of the big banners that hung on the front of the building, it read: “The European Wrestling Championships, tonight: The Ripper vs. The Red Dragon!” At that moment, a roar came from the crowd as something that bore more resemblance to a large, red bulldozer with legs than a man came out of the building.
Geoff decided that he’d better find out what was going on.
“Err… who’s that?” he asked a group of screaming girls sporting red flags.
“Ha ha,” said one of the girls sarcastically, “it’s always the same with you policemen, you think you’re so funny, trying to impress us by riding up on that big horse and looking all superior. Don’t you joke to us about the one and only Red Dragon – he could squash you like a lemon!”
So that was the Red Dragon? Geoff was disappointed, he thought he’d come to slay dragons, not ugly wrestlers pretending to be dragons! But then he thought of Bert and Tolley and Steve – they were all relying on him to do this, and he remembered his dream of adventure… this is probably the closest I’ll ever get, thought Geoff, and somewhere in his mind, his unique brand of logic (which was unhelpful at the best of times) decided the matter for him. It went something like this: Knights are good and dragons are bad… [Cogs turn slowly in his head]… I’m a knight and that man calls himself a dragon… [More cogs turn]… therefore… I’m good, and he’s bad! Right.
With a cry like a strangled turkey, Geoff charged towards the Red Dragon – that is to say, Radish charged, and Geoff was left to embrace the floor and was soon pushed out of the way by more screaming fans.
When Geoff finally come to, he found himself lying by the wall of the stadium covered in coloured banners, beer cans, and food wrappers, there was no sign of Radish or Steve, and the place was deserted. He got up rather dazedly, and began to make his painful way home.
Back at his flat, one look in the mirror was enough to convince Geoff that he never wanted to be a knight again – he was bruised all over, covered in old ketchup and mustard and half finished hot dogs, been rolled in several lumps of chewing gum, and there was something suspiciously brown and smelly clinging to his elbow; he hoped that it was no worse than horse manure. There was only one thing he could do now, thought Geoff dejectedly, a hot bath and bed.
The next day, Geoff set off to visit his parents… and get his clothes cleaned and mended. To his surprise, the old couple greeted him even more warmly than usual.
“Oh I’m so proud of you dear!” exclaimed his mother, wrapping him in a hug the moment she opened the door.
“Hmm,” replied Geoff distractedly, he was too busy trying to make up a story explaining the state of his clothes.
“I knew you could do it,” said his dad, clapping him on the back, “my son,” he beamed proudly at Geoff, “a police officer – and on horseback too!”
“Huh?” Geoff was confused again.
“We saw you on the telly,” explained his mother, “the news report on the riot at the wrestling match, and when I saw you there with all the other policemen controlling the crowd, I says to your dad, I says, ‘that’s our Geoff out there!’ He was so stunned he almost choked on his toffee, didn’t you George?” the two old people chortled affectionately at Geoff and one another. Geoff wasn’t sure whether to laugh or burst out into a fit of hysterical wailing, but before he could decide, his father leant towards him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “So Geoff, were you err… involved in the sting operation then?”
“What?” asked Geoff, surprised.
His father handed him a cutting from that day’s newspaper:
‘DRAGON SAVED AS KNIGHTS ARE ARRESTED’ read the headline,
‘Members of a secret, mafia-like organisation called ‘(the knights of) The Round Table’ have been arrested following police investigations into alleged reports of match-fixing at wrestling matches. An arrest was made during a police sting at yesterday’s infamous ‘Ripper vs. Dragon’ tournament and a man calling himself ‘the Messenger’ is believed to be in police custody after being found carrying upwards of £20,000 worth of high denomination bank notes at the scene of the tournament. Similar stings are believed to have been carried out by police at the said organisation’s headquarters, codenamed ‘the Castle’.
Newly uncovered evidence suggests that a plot had been planned to injure the ‘Red Dragon’, reigning champion of the European Wrestling Federation (EWF) for the past two years, as part of a betting scam.
Police are still searching for three people believed to have been involved in the running of ‘The Round Table’. Thought to be operating under code names, they are known as ‘Mr Bertington’, ‘Lady Tolé-cannal’, and a mysterious character called ‘The Knight’, who was supposed to carry out the attack on the Red Dragon that day – he is suspected to be armed and dangerous. A police spokesman at Scotland Yard…”
Geoff had read enough, for once, he almost understood what was going on.
“Mum,” he called.
“Yes dear?”
“Can I stay here for a few weeks? Only, I think I’ll need to lie low for a bit.”
Copyright Sonya Hallett 2003
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