National Trust: The Secret Diary of John Drawbridge, a Medieval Knight in Training E-Book

Philip Ardagh

• Herausgeber: Nosy Crow
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: The Secret Diary Series
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 84

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

The first book in a hilarious and exciting new series, from the winner of the Roald Dahl Funny Prize! John Drawbridge has moved to Widemoat Castle to learn to become a knight. And there is a LOT to learn. . . How to charge with a lance on horseback without falling off. Why the spiral staircases always go up in a clockwise direction. How to defend the castle against invading parties. Why the plates served at banquets are made of stale bread (and why you shouldn't eat them...). And much, MUCH more. So it's no wonder that John decides to keep a diary (even if it is only an imaginary one...) of his time at the castle. Things REALLY liven up when the castle is attacked by an invading Welsh party - but can John foil their plot before it's too late...? Perfect for fans of Horrible Histories, filled with amazing facts and historical trivia, with an exciting story and brilliant illustrations, you won't be able to put this SECRET DIARY down! Read the other books in the series: The Secret Diary of Jane Pinny, Victorian House Maid (and Accidental Detective) The Secret Diary of Thomas Snoop, Tudor Boy Spy The Secret Diary of Kitty Cask, Smuggler's Daughter

Leseprobe

 To my parents, who used to take me around National Trust properties as a child, and I’ve never looked back.PA

For the Jolly Boys, my Fellow Men at Arms.JL

Day 1

My name is John Drawbridge and I now live at Widemoat Castle. I am filled with such happiness that I walk around with the biggest and widest of grins in Christendom1! The only person I have seen with a wider grin is the Fool2, a man who strolleth about with a pig’s bladder on a stick.3 (And he is a professional.)

This castle is a place of much wonderment

It hath towers and dungeons, battlements and kennels. I did not used to live in such a beauteous place. I was sent here to learn to be a knight. How wondrous is that? Of course, I will not get to become a knight in the blinking of a bat’s eye. I am what is called a page in training which, the truth be told, meaneth that I am already a page but know not exactly what I am doing AND am earning a penny a day for it!

I am learning my skills and duties on my feet. And on my bottom (because training to be a page one getteth knocked over quite a bit). When I have become one of Widemoat Castle’s best pages there hast ever been, I shall then get promoted to a squire in training.4

And then, when people marvel mightily at what a truly magnificent squire I have become, I shall be dubbed a KNIGHT. *Clappeth!* *Cheereth* Thank you. (Well, that be my plan, anyway. And it will take many years.)

Because coming to this castle of wonderment is

it is my plan to keep a diary of great secret. There be one teeniest of teeny problems, however. Few, if any, people of my age – or any age – can read or write, so I am writing this within my head.5

This meaneth that

is, most likely, a

Most strange, is it not?

For this must mean

Let us commence!

1 The parts of the world then ruled by Christians from Europe

2 A sort of clown employed by the owner of the castle to entertain him and his guests

3 A pig’s bladder could be blown up to make the only kind of balloon you could get in medieval times.

4 A squire carried his knight’s shield and weapons, looked after his horse, carried his messages, and ran his errands, whilst acting as his apprentice and learning is ways. A page had to learn all the basics before being able to have THAT honour.

5 And not in QUITE the way someone from medieval times would have written OR spoken. This is one of the advantages of minding-reading: it translates the original words into something more FUN.

Day 3

My brother Hubert ran into me today, which was about as welcome as the finding of a dead rat in the beef sauce6. Our parents are Sir Norman and Lady Drawbridge. You can guess which is which. (Clue: Do not try calling my father ‘Lady’ anything unless you find pleasure in being held upside-down by your ankles.)

It is not the son of just anyone who can train to be a knight. You have to come from a good and noble family. (And families do not come more good and noble than the Drawbridges.)

*Gloweth with pride*

It matters not how good Thomas the miller’s son is at riding7 and fighting and firing homemade arrows (which he be). He can never be more than a miller’s son. I do not say this be a good or a bad thing. It is simply a fact. (And Thomas doth bake the most excellent of breads, if thou like it black and crispy and tasting of burnt tree bark.)

Hubert -- *Booeth and Hisseth!* -- is my elder brother, so he came here to Widemoat Castle a few years in advance of me. It pleased me, at first, for it meant that the layabout was out of the way and not being

at home. (If you have an annoying brother or sister, multiply such causing of annoyance by one hundred and you shall merely begin to form an idea of just how annoying Hubert be.)8

Soon after he had gone, however, it occurred to me that this meaneth that he is likely to become a knight BEFORE ME. And this is so very wrong. Hubert becoming a knight is like a gong-farmer becoming king!9 I would laugh if I did not want to burst into tears and bury Hubert up to his neck in the dung of horses10 (for he once did that very thing to me)11.

When Hubert ran into me without12 the castle stables in the courtyard -- very much on purpose -- he sent me flying. I nearly landed upon a man crouching behind a barrel, doing whatever it was that he was doing.13

Hubert then made much pretence of it being MY fault for being in the way. He made more fuss than the man I landed upon, who simply scuttled away before I even caught so much as a glimpse of his face. During our time here, I very much hope that my brother and I see as little of each other as two moles that burrow in opposite directions.

6 Without fridges to store meat in, it went off very quickly. The bad taste could be disguised with rich sauces.

7 Thomas would have borrowed his father’s work horse. Only the rich and nobles rode the fast horses.

8 A page was taught very basic maths along with some reading and writing.

9 A gong-farmer - usually a boy - had the job of clearing human poo from cesspits and privies at night.

10 Horse poo. (Sorry!)

11 Big brothers have been the same throughout history.

12 Here ‘without’ means ‘outside’, not ‘not having’.

13 Old chainmail was sometimes put in a barrel of sand which was then rolled around, causing the sand to rub off the rust.

Day 8

The Great Hall is by far the biggest room in the castle and is the centre of castle life. ‘Tis here that most of us sleep at night. We sleep not in beds. Beds are for My Lord and Lady. The servants sleep upon straw on the floor of the hall, and the dirty straw is cleared away each morning. We squires and pages sleep upon a pallet or a trundle or, if less lucky, a straw mat. Old Sir Jack Olde -- more on him another day -- sayeth that one of the good things about so many people sleeping in the same place is that, on cold nights such as this, the heat from all those bodies helpeth to warm up the whole room. But this maketh not up for the snoring and mutterings and the elbowing for space. The tapestries14 that hang from the cold, stone walls not only help to give a grand appearance but also help to keep the place a little warmer.

The windows in the hall hath most impressive shutters. I think it will take me a goodly while to become used to sleeping in such a huge space with so many others.

We are fortunate that the floor of the great hall is the ceiling of the kitchens below, and some of the heat from cooking doth warm the stone-flagged floor.15 The kitchens are as hot as Hell. I find it hard to imagine what they must be like in the heat of summer! Cook says that our food is very different in the summer months, when fresh meat is in plentiful supply.

With spring not yet upon us, the only fresh meat comes from pigeons from the dovecotes16, otherwise we have to make do with dried meat – sometimes gone bad and cooked in herbs to disguise the gruesome taste *Yerch!* – or salted and smoked fish. Cook says that in deepest winter, when snow lieth upon the ground, that I would be grateful to be working in such warmth, but I cannot imagine ever getting used to such heat. Hubert, who sweats at the effort of frowning when he thinketh too hard, would melt into a useless blob were he not one already! (Sometimes I find myself chuckling at my own wit.)

14 Tapestries often showed hunting scenes with lords and ladies on horseback and maybe a stag or wild boar between the trees.

15 In summer months, whole animals were spit-roasted in front of huge open fires.

16 Pigeons and doves were kept in dovecotes to look elegant and pretty and pleasing. And to cook and eat.

Day 9

The castle is such a different place by night. By day, the windows offer sufficient light for us to learn our duties and undertake our tasks. (In other words: we can see.) After dark – besides the Great Hall if there is feasting or the kitchen with its great fire – much of the place is in almost complete blackness. I look forward to a full moon. Some areas are lit with torches.17 There also be candles but these be precious and, of course, for the use of Lord and Lady Widemoat and their more important guests.

Tonight, I was given an unlit candle stub in the dark and, mistaking it for a piece of food, I ate it! My face was so hot with embarrassment that I am much surprised that it did not glow red and light up the room! It would have been more embarrassing if anyone had been able to see my stupidity.18