The Crying Pennant

Part 15

“I think we ought to take the dungeon route,” thought Biggs, “because we might not be let in at the back door.”

  “Sensible,” empathised Arthur,” it’s no good advertising that we’re trying to rescue a princess from the dark lord by ringing on his door bell and asking us to let him in.”

  “We could pretend to be travelling minstrels,” suggested With, “I can juggle a bit.”

  “I can sing, ‘I’ll tek the high road and you’ll tek the low road...’” sang Sid.

  “I can do a puppet theatre and some balloon modelling,” said Lee.

  “I think that is a good suggestion,” encouraged Arthur, “but where are we going to get minstrel and jugglers outfits from?”

  Suddenly some outfits fell from the sky.

  “Thanks, Author,” thanked Arthur, “you’d think with all his power of imagination he’d get us into the castle no problem.”

  “I can’t Arthur,” said I, “I’ve got to make the story about 26,000 words long and if I make it too easy for you then the book isn’t so long and I might not get paid so much money. Any way, hardship creates character and that’s what I want from you.”

  “I think we ought to try blowing our way through the monastery wall,” suggested Sid.

  “That’s a real advert for us, ‘Listen to this big bang Mister Dark Lord, sir, and come and get us’,” irked Biggs.

  “I think we should try to get in at the back door first then if that fails or we’re separated, then we’ll enter by the dungeon,” said Arthur. “Let’s take a vote on it.”

  They all raised their hands and so it was decided. Lee put some dirt on the fire and they all got dressed in the outfits. One by one they all walked across the bridge and Sid carefully led Fawh across last.

The castle loomed into view and they traversed the pathway to the back door. Sid rang the door bell again, because he was fond of doing it. A little hatch opened and a dark and dirty face looked out, “Yes, what do you want?” said the face.

  “Aagh, stinking goblin,” Sid whispered loudly.

  “What did he say?” asked the goblin. “Is he a dwarf, he smells like one?”

  “He said ‘A sinking oblong’, he’s got some oblong trousers and they’re starting to fall down. And he’s not a dwarf, he’s a midget who has been around horses too long,” explained Arthur.

  Sid gave Arthur a dagger-like look but decided not to say anything.

  “What do you want then?” enquired the goblin.

  “We are minstrels, jugglers and entertainers come to entertain your most gracious lord,” ingratiated Biggs (second in command.)

  “I’ll have to ask, you’ll have to wait out there,” grimaced the goblin. He closed the hatch.

  “The devil’s own creatures,” spat Sid.

  “Now Sid if you carry on acting like that you’re going to jeopardise the whole mission,” chided Arthur.

  “Goblins killed my father and my grand-father and I hate them with all my heart,” venom flamed from Sid’s heart.

  Sympathy flowed from With’s mouth, “I know how you feel Sid, but you can’t hold a grudge all your life, it’s not healthy for you.”