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  Roland Wright

  #1 Future Knight

  #2 Brand-New Page

  And coming soon:

  #3 At the Joust

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2008 by Tony Davis

  Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Gregory Rogers

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in paperback by Random House Australia, Sydney, in 2008.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Davis, Tony.

  Brand-new page / by Tony Davis ; illustrated by Gregory Rogers. — 1st American ed.

  p. cm. — (Roland Wright ; #2)

  Summary: In 1409, aspiring knight Roland Wright joins the royal household at Twofold Castle as a new page, but his plan to impress King John and his knights quickly backfires.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89406-0

  [1. Knights and knighthood—Fiction. 2. Castles—Fiction. 3. Middle Ages—Fiction.] I. Rogers, Gregory, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.D3194Br 2009

  [Fic]—dc22

  2008053075

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE. Twofold Castle

  CHAPTER TWO. No Mice

  CHAPTER THREE. Hector

  CHAPTER FOUR. One Thousand and One Knights

  CHAPTER FIVE. The Elephant

  CHAPTER SIX. Lord Urbunkum

  CHAPTER SEVEN. The Great Escape

  CHAPTER EIGHT. In the Lockup

  CHAPTER NINE. The Showdown

  CHAPTER TEN. The King Decides

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Excerpt from Roland Wright: At the Joust

  One

  Twofold Castle

  “Flaming catapults, Nudge, have you ever seen such a castle?”

  The correct answer was “no.” But because Nudge was a small white mouse, he couldn’t say it.

  Even if he could, the ten-year-old—well, almost-ten-year-old—redheaded boy who had asked the question was far too excited to wait for an answer.

  “Imagine if there was a siege,” Roland said as the pair looked up at King John’s castle, an enormous stone fortress covering the entire top of the hill.

  “Can’t you just see hundreds of soldiers protecting the King, Nudge? Hundreds of archers shooting arrows from the battlements down onto the attackers … and soldiers pouring boiling oil on men charging at the drawbridge with a battering ram … and gallant knights swinging broadswords atop warhorses covered with shining armor.”

  As it turned out, Nudge couldn’t see any of that. He stood on Roland’s shoulder, sniffed the air with his pink nose and continued to look around. All he could see was a castle so quiet and peaceful it seemed almost to be sleeping under the blue summer sky. Nudge could hear birds singing and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

  Roland, however, could hear the whoosh of spears, the shouting of soldiers, the snorting of horses waiting to charge. He could smell flaming arrows hitting the wet leather that had been strung up to protect the siege towers from fire. He could feel the castle shuddering as boulders were slung into the walls by the most powerful catapult of all, the trebuchet.

  Mind you, Roland had been daydreaming about such things for most of the two days he and his small group had been traveling. When Roland wasn’t daydreaming, he was talking about all the things he would do and learn as a new page at the King’s castle.

  “I’ll go to tournaments and see real jousting,” he said to his taller, blond-haired brother, Shelby, as they walked along. “And I’ll learn to ride horses and to hunt with falcons. I’m the luckiest boy in the whole world.”

  “You certainly are,” said Shelby, still a little sad that his younger brother had been chosen ahead of him. “But I know you’ll make the most of it.”

  “And Father,” said Roland, “I’m going to be the best page, then the best squire, then the best knight. I know if I try hard enough I can be, and you’ll be so proud of me. Especially when I wear armor made by you.”

  “I have abundant faith in you, Roland,” said his father, flicking back his thick brown hair and kindly pretending that he hadn’t heard Roland say the same thing again and again for two whole days. “You can do anything if you set your mind to it, son. You’ve already demonstrated that.”

  There was someone else Roland spoke to on the long journey to the King’s castle from the small village where the Wright family lived: Sir Gallawood. He had offered to travel with the Wrights, as it could be a dangerous business walking through the woods in the year 1409. It could be dangerous doing many other things six centuries ago too, so it was always handy to take a knight in armor along with you.

  Roland was on the lookout for thieves or bandits or poachers—and always a little disappointed when he didn’t see any.

  “Sir Gallawood, please tell me more about King John … and his castle,” said Roland as he walked alongside the knight’s horse.

  “Well, young Roland,” said Sir Gallawood, “it’s called Twofold Castle. That’s because it has double walls to make it even safer from attack. And there are many, many pages there, most of them sons of the most important men in the country.” He let out a hearty laugh. “Well, the sons of the men who think they are the most important in the country.”

  Sir Gallawood looked down at Roland with a more serious expression. “Twofold Castle is a magnificent place. The finest horses are there, and the best squires and of course the bravest, most talented knights. I personally promised the King I would bring you safely to his castle to start your new life as a page.”

  “You’ve met the King!” Roland cried with glee.

  “Yes, I—” Sir Gallawood started, but he was straightaway interrupted by Roland.

  “Flaming catapults, Sir Gallawood, that’s so exciting. I can’t think of anything more wonderful than meeting the King, except fighting in a battle alongside him. What is he like?”

  “King John is a fair and just man,” said Sir Gallawood. “And now he has given you a chance that almost never comes to boys who aren’t from noble families. Always remember: being a page is the first step to being a knight, but it is also about serving King John and his court. It will be a great honor to do that. You are a very lucky boy.”

  Sir Gallawood was right. Roland knew how fortunate he was. It wasn’t just that the King’s life had been saved by a suit of armor made by Roland’s father. Nor was it that the King had offered to take in one of the armorer’s sons as a way of saying thank you. The truly remarkable thing was that Roland had been chosen ahead of his brother, Shelby, who was already eleven.

  Roland looked up at the walls and turrets of Twofold Castle and cried out, “We’re here, Nudge! We’re here!”

  But sitting up on that huge hill, the castle was still half an afternoon’s walk away. That was enough time for Roland to tell his father several more times that he was going to be the best p
age, then the best squire and then the best knight. It was also enough time to ask Sir Gallawood another thirty questions about life in a castle. And to daydream some more too.

  When the small group finally arrived at the edge of the green moat that surrounded Twofold Castle, a sentry shouted from the top of the gatehouse. The large black drawbridge soon dropped and a man on a beautiful white horse rode out to meet the newcomers.

  “So, this is the leave-taking,” sighed Roland’s father.

  “Ah, Sir Gallawood,” said the man on the white horse, ignoring the others. His voice sounded like a big, rusty hinge being opened. It echoed around the hills.

  “Yes, Constable,” said Sir Gallawood, “I present to you a small and thin, but very, very brave young boy named Roland Wright.”

  Sir Gallawood dismounted and put his hand on Roland’s shoulder. “And Roland, I present to you the King’s constable, who is in charge of running the castle.”

  The constable was a mountain of a man. He wore a bright red surcoat with the royal crest on the front. He had the biggest, blackest mustache Roland had ever seen. His head was completely bald and shiny, but his eyebrows were almost as big, black and bushy as his mustache. Roland couldn’t see his eyes or his mouth through all the hair.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Sir Constable,” Roland said, wondering where to look.

  “Just call me Constable, and always do exactly as I tell you,” came the reply from somewhere under the mustache. The voice was so low and creaky it made Roland’s ears ache. “Now, let’s hurry along.”

  Roland realized that after all the hours of traveling there wasn’t going to be time to say goodbye properly. The constable was in a hurry, and Roland had to do exactly as he was told.

  “Bye, Father, bye, Shelby,” he blurted as the constable grabbed him by one arm, and Sir Gallawood grabbed him by the other, then helped prop him on the back of the constable’s horse.

  “We won’t see you for at least a year, but we are confident you’ll make us proud, son,” Oliver Wright called as Roland found himself galloping across the drawbridge.

  Roland was through the double walls of Twofold Castle and into the castle yard before he had time to wipe away the tears that were forming in his eyes. He didn’t even look around at his new home. He just thought about how he no longer had his father and his brother by his side. The only friend at hand was Nudge, now safely in his small elm-wood box inside Roland’s sack.

  “Do you know what is expected of you here, young man?” asked the constable loudly as he leapt off the horse and watched Roland fumble his way out of the saddle.

  “Not completely,” said Roland, who was still in shock and trying very hard to dry his eyes with his handkerchief while pretending to blow his nose. “But I am very keen to learn. I’m going to be the greatest knight in the world.”

  “They all say that,” the constable rasped. “But most pages never even become squires, let alone knights. Some are sent home in the first week because they aren’t right for the job.

  “The only thing expected of you here, young Roland, is that you do exactly as you are told, and you speak to your betters only when asked a question. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Constable.”

  “As we are busy because of the elephant, I’m going to ask—”

  “The elephant?” Excitement raced back into Roland’s voice, but it quickly disappeared. The constable’s huge eyebrows quivered and his shiny bald head reddened.

  “I did not ask a question,” he snapped. “You certainly have a lot to learn about how we do things here, young man.”

  At that point a boy ran up to the center of the courtyard where Roland and the constable were standing. He was nine or ten years old and was wearing the royal page uniform—a tunic with large red and blue squares, pulled tight by a thick black leather belt. The boy had curly yellow hair—the longest hair on a young boy Roland had ever seen.

  “Humphrey,” said the constable. “I want you to take young Roland to his room so he can put his things down. Then I want you to look after him until it’s time for him to join in the chores.”

  “Yes, Constable, yes, Constable.” The boy seemed almost to dance as he talked—it was as if he couldn’t stand still. Roland, who often had “hunches,” decided straightaway that this boy with the long straw-colored hair was going to be a friend.

  As the constable remounted his horse and rode away, Humphrey turned to Roland and smiled.

  “Welcome to Twofold Castle, to Twofold Castle. We’ve all heard about you—the son of the famous armorer, the famous armorer. You are so lucky to be here right now. Tomorrow is going to be the most exciting day, the most exciting day for years.”

  Two

  No mice

  “So this is the bailey,” said Humphrey, still smiling, still dancing around—and still repeating his words. “The bailey, the bailey.”

  Thanks to Sir Gallawood, Roland already knew the bailey was the name for the main open area inside the castle walls. He had no idea, though, just how enormous the bailey in Twofold Castle would be.

  There were people everywhere: walking from building to building, carrying food, carrying weapons, carrying buckets of water or rolling barrels of wine. People were leading horses, riding horses and even handfeeding horses in the long shadows made by the high stone walls. It was like the center of a very busy town, complete with a chapel at the northern end.

  Humphrey started walking—almost skipping—toward a building next to the west wall. Roland followed. They went through a series of doors and corridors into a dark, damp-smelling room that was very small but very, very tall. Roland was sure it was three times as high as it was wide.

  “This is our room,” said Humphrey, with a huge grin. “You’ll be sharing this with me and Morris, with me and Morris.”

  Roland opened his mouth but no sound came out.

  “This will be yours,” said Humphrey, pointing to a short, narrow bed. “The straw is a bit old but there are not too many bugs. Not too many bugs. You can put your things under it. Morris will be here later, here later.”

  “Oh!” said Roland, finding his voice again after the shock of seeing his room. “This is for me just until my proper bed is ready, is it?”

  “I don’t think so, don’t think so,” said Humphrey. “Why do you say that?”

  “I thought in castles they had enormous beds of softest duck feather. That’s what my brother, Shelby, told me.”

  “They probably do have enormous beds of softest duck feather—if you are the King or someone really important, really important. But if you are a page, or even a squire, you sleep on straw and eat in the servants’ mess and do your toileting in one of the cold and windy garderobes, cold and windy garderobes, that hang over the moat.”

  “Urrgh!” said Roland.

  “My father is a baron, a baron,” said Humphrey, moving his weight from foot to foot, “and it’s no different even for the son of a baron. But don’t worry, we are going to have a lot of fun, a lot of fun, together.”

  Roland slumped down onto his bed and reached into his sack. He pulled out the small elm-wood box and opened it.

  “What in heaven’s name is that?” shouted Humphrey as Roland held up Nudge.

  Humphrey’s question was so loud and sudden that Roland dropped the bag, the box—and the mouse.

  “It’s my pet,” said Roland, scooping up the furry little white bundle and retrieving the box with a clatter and a thump. “Nudge. My littlest and best friend in the whole world. He brings me luck, too.”

  “Well, he has just brought you more luck. Bad luck. You are not allowed to have him here, have him here. The Queen is terrified of mice, terrified of mice. She hates them even more than she hates rats. And she hates rats more than she hates anything else in the world, anything else in the world. Except mice, of course.”

  “Oh,” said Roland, nervously patting Nudge’s head with his index finger. “I had no idea.”

 
; “Yes, Queen Margaret allows a slice of sugar cheese pie, of sugar cheese pie, to any page who hands in a dead mouse or rat to the constable. Once she had the King send his entire army through the castle trying to track down all the rodents. All the rodents.”

  “But this isn’t a rodent. This is Nudge!”

  “Either way, Nudge can’t stay here,” said Humphrey, shaking his head and making his long yellow hair swing around wildly. Humphrey had lost his smile but still seemed to be moving nervously whenever he spoke. “Anyway, it will scare away, scare away the elephant.”

  “Flaming catapults … the constable said something about an elephant. Do elephants really exist?”

  “Oh, yes, oh, yes. The King has received one as a gift from King Notjohn. That’s why tomorrow is the most exciting day, exciting day. The elephant will arrive and there will be a small festival.”

  “King Notjohn?” said Roland with surprise. There was just too much information.

  “Yes, he is King John’s twin brother. They looked so similar, the King and Queen named the firstborn John and the second Notjohn. John and Notjohn, Notjohn and John.

  “John became King twenty years ago and made his brother the ruler of the conquered lands,” Humphrey added. “And then, and then, a few months ago King John sent his brother a fine tapestry with a picture of an elephant on it. And now King Notjohn is sending back a real elephant. A real elephant. They are always trying to outdo each other.”

  Roland stroked Nudge’s back with his middle finger. Nudge had a headache after being dropped. And he didn’t like the cool, damp room Roland had brought him to. Nudge wished he could be shut back in his box and left alone.

  “Who told you a mouse could scare an elephant?” Roland asked.

  “The castle minstrel once sang a song about how the big elephant was scared by the tiny mouse, the tiny mouse,” replied Humphrey, now smiling again. “There were all these rhymes about how the huge elephant ran twice as fast as a man, and at the squeak of a mouse it knocked down a house, and the people did fuss and the people did frown and so it was thus that they lost the whole town. He’s a very clever, very clever, minstrel.”