7,19 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Little Tiger Press
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Serie: Knightmare
- Sprache: Englisch
Cedric Thatchbottom can't wait to train as a squire, serving Sir Percy the Proud - a knight famed throughout the land for his glorious deeds. But this famous knight isn't all he appears to be, and Cedric soon finds himself being run ragged around Castle Bombast by his new master. In the first book in the Knightmare series, Roland the Rotten has challenged Percy the Proud to a duel. But the famous knight refuses to take part because he's lost his lucky underpants. It turns out that Percy is lying to avoid the fight. With his new master's reputation at stake, Cedric finds himself stepping up to the challenge… A hilarious new series following the misadventures of a trainee knight. Packed with comical characters, battles, puns and poo, these books are irresistible to boys and girls aged six to eight years.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 73
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014
Ähnliche
![Tintenherz [Tintenwelt-Reihe, Band 1 (Ungekürzt)] - Cornelia Funke - Hörbuch](https://legimifiles.blob.core.windows.net/images/2830629ec0fd3fd8c1f122134ba4a884/w200_u90.jpg)
For Lucy, Theo and Tara (Team Bently Curtin) – PB
For Clarey, Bonnie and Sonny (Team Blunt) – FB
CONTENTS
Meet the Characters
Chapter One
A Scroll for Breakfast
“Cedric!”
“Yes, Sir Percy?”
“Have you groomed Prancelot?”
“Yes, Sir Percy.”
“And polished my armour?”
“Yes, Sir Percy.”
“And fluffed up my plumes?”
“Yes, Sir Percy.”
“Splendid. Now where’s my breakfast?”
“Coming, Sir Percy!”
I entered the bedchamber and placed the breakfast tray on the bedside table. Then I went over to the window and pulled back the thick embroidered curtains.
Sir Percy Piers Peregrine de Bluster de Bombast opened an eye and blinked in the bright sunlight.
“So, what’s Margaret made for me this morning?” he said cheerfully.
He sat up in bed and I placed the tray on his lap. “Porridge, Sir Percy.”
His face fell at the sight of the lumpy, greenish gloop.
“Again?”
“Yes, Sir Percy.”
“Thank you, Cedric,” he groaned. “That will be all for now. Come back in half an hour and help me dress. Today I’m going for a ride in my new armour – to give it a bit of an airing before the tournament.”
“Yes, Sir Percy.”
I headed back down to the kitchen for my own breakfast dose of Mouldybun Margaret’s porridge.
Yeucchh! I can’t blame Sir Percy for being disappointed. It looks EXACTLY like the stuff they were carting away when Sir Percy had the castle moat cleaned last week. Smells like it, too.
Maybe I’d better start at the very beginning. My name is Cedric Thatchbottom and I’ve been working at Castle Bombast for a month now. I’m Sir Percy’s squire, which means one day I’ll be a KNIGHT like him and I’ll get to do to cool stuff like:
1. Wear ARMOUR
2. Have a SWORD
3. Rescue DAMSELS IN DISTRESS
(Whatever damsels are. Some kind of pet?)
4. Defeat an entire army of BADDIES single-handedly and save the kingdom
5. Boss around PEOPLE WHO LAUGH AT MY NAME (and my red hair)
I’ve wanted to be a knight for as long as I can remember. But you can’t be a knight without being a squire first. One day I was out helping my dad (Ethelred Thatchbottom, builder to the gentry) when I spotted a sheet of parchment pinned to a tree:
I nagged my mum and dad to let me try out for the job.
“Don’t be silly,” said Dad. “Only toffs get to be squires and we ain’t toffs, Ced.”
I nagged them some more and eventually they said there was no harm in trying but I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
So I went to see Sir Percy, and to my amazement I got the job! Soon after that I came to live at Castle Bombast to look after Sir Percy and do all his chores.
Sir Percy is always promising to teach me proper knight stuff, but he never seems to get round to it. Maybe he’s just too busy being a celebrity. People call him Sir Percy the Proud and he’s famous for being the bravest, kindest, cleverest and most handsome knight in the kingdom. It says so in The Song of Percy. Sir Percy wrote The Song of Percy, so I guess he should know.
As I entered the kitchen, Mouldybun Margaret came bustling past me with a large steaming platter.
“Clear some space on that bench,” she barked. “’Urry up, Carrot-top! These apple and pig’s liver cookies is ’ot!”
I shoved a few things out of the way and Margaret plonked down the platter.
“That’s better,” she said. She nodded at a battered old pot over the kitchen fire. “You can ’elp yerself to porridge. And keep yer thievin’ ’ands off my cookies. They’re for Sir Percy.”
“Yikes! His poor tummy!” muttered Patchcoat the Jester, who was sitting at the long kitchen table.
“What’s that?” snapped Margaret.
“Oh, nothing,” said Patchcoat innocently. “I just said those cookies look yummy!”
Margaret snorted and stomped off. I plopped a ladleful of porridge into a wooden bowl and sat next to Patchcoat. He’s been my best friend since I came to work here.
“Here, Ced, I’ve got another new joke,” Patchcoat said. “Knock! Knock!”
“Who’s there?” I mumbled, coming across something hard in my porridge. Ugh! I spat out a lump of gristly bone.
“Armour,” said Patchcoat.
“Armour who?” I sighed.
“Armour getting outta here!” cried Patchcoat. He leaped out of his chair and ran from the kitchen, giggling. “I’m off to work. See ya later, Ced— OOF!”
Patchcoat had bumped right into Walter Warthog, who had come into the castle without knocking.
“Mind where you’re going, you oaf!” said Walter, pushing Patchcoat out of the way and marching into the kitchen.
Walter is the squire of Sir Roland the Rotten, who is famous for being the nastiest knight in the kingdom. I’d met Sir Roland for the first time just a couple of days earlier, when Sir Percy was out hunting with his best mate, Sir Spencer the Splendid. (Guess who got to carry all the bows and arrows. And lunch.) This huge wild boar ran past us and Sir Percy cracked a joke that went something like, “What’s fat and bristly and grunts like a pig? Sir Roland the Rotten!” Then who should ride out of the bushes after the boar but Sir Roland himself! He gave Sir Percy a right rotten stare and galloped off without a word.
I tried not to laugh as Patchcoat stuck his tongue out at Walter behind his back.
Walter looked at me and sneered. “Morning, Squire Squirt!” he said. “Lazing about instead of working, I see. You’ll never be a knight at this rate!”
(I HATE it when Walter calls me Squire Squirt. Just because I’m two years younger than him and my family aren’t posh.)
“What do you want, Wartface?” I said.
Walter thrust something under my nose. It was a scroll of parchment, rolled up tightly and sealed with a blob of red wax. The wax was stamped with a boar’s head and two crossed battleaxes – the badge of Sir Roland the Rotten.
“Letter for Sir Percy the Pompous,” he said. “Whoops! I mean Percy the Proud.”
I glared at him.
“Why would Sir Roland be writing to Sir Percy?” I asked. “Is it something to do with the tournament?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” grinned Walter unpleasantly. “See you Thursday at the tournament, Fatbottom. That is, if they allow ginger peasants into the royal palace!”
“Hey!” I said.
But Walter had already marched out of the kitchen, sneaking one of Mouldybun Margaret’s cookies when she wasn’t looking.
Wait till he tastes it, I thought. That’ll serve him right for being rude!
I took the scroll up to Sir Percy. He was still in bed, picking at his half-eaten bowl of porridge.
“Letter for you, Sir Percy,” I said, holding out the scroll.
Sir Percy shot upright in bed and snatched it from my hand.
“A fan letter!” he beamed. “They’ll be asking for a signed copy of The Song of Percy. You must send them one at once. Dear me, at this rate I shall soon run out!”
“It’s not a fan letter, Sir Percy—”
“Ah,” said Sir Percy. A dreamy smile spread over his face. “Of course. It’ll be from a fair lady. Yet another proposal of marriage. Cedric, it’s a hard life being such a famous, brave and handsome knight! You shall have to write and turn her down, just like all the others! Unless – um – she happens to be a rich princess, in which case I suppose I might – um – consider—”
“It’s from Sir Roland,” I said.
Sir Percy’s dreamy smile vanished.
“F-from Sir Roland?” he said. “Why would he be writing to me?”
“No idea, Sir Percy,” I said. “I think it might be about the tournament.”
He unrolled the scroll and read it.
“Blithering battleaxes!” Sir Percy flopped back on to his pillows, dropping the scroll. He seemed to have gone a bit pale.
“Are you feeling all right, Sir Percy?”
I picked up the scroll and read it.
“Sir Roland’s challenged you to a joust!” I gasped.
