The Reluctant Dark Knight/Part 5

Finally the debt was repaid with the cook, so the trio could rest a while. Johan and Peewit leaned against each other at the base of the same tree just beyond the castle walls – Falla sighed and lay in the grass in front of them with her hands behind her head and one leg crossed over the other. It was about half past six o’ clock now, and the sun was drawing near to the horizon, allowing the sky to fade into a shade of purple. “Thank goodness that’s over,” Peewit said. His friend agreed; he stretched and looked at the sky through the tree branches above his head. “Johan, do you think we’ll see Gargamel again?” He heard and felt him exhale, leaning his head and shoulder on his right arm. “We might, and we might not, Peewit. I’m not sure,” he replied simply. He was half-in and half-out with his gaze cast over the girl in the grass – he wasn’t intentionally looking at her, it was just where his eyes fell. She was busy watching the sky change from light to dark blue as the sun set. “What do you think, Falla?” Peewit asked. Johan registered her move her head to see them and that pulled him from his half-daydream state. “I think we’ll see him when we least expect it,” she said, glancing up at the knight, “and I think he’ll be under our noses if we’re not on guard.” He blinked and understood what she was trying to communicate to him. Then she turned back to the sky; it was getting to be dark blue and lightly black with three or four stars piercing the darkness and the sun disappeared under the horizon line. “We should go back inside now,” Johan suggested. He stood up, causing Peewit to fall over; he helped him up. “Sorry, Peewit.” “It’s okay, Johan,” he replied. While he headed towards the drawbridge, his friend offered his hand to the girl, saying, “May I?” She smiled and held his wrist as he held hers, getting to her feet in a moment, and then they followed the jester over the moat. “Thanks for helping us with that list, Falla,” he said when they were through the gates. “It was nothing,” she told him with a smile starting. She saw Dame Barbara and Princess Savina approaching and turned to the left to find her room in the tower. “There you are, Johan,” the princess said, “My uncle and I have been looking for you. Follow me, please.” He obeyed and entered the King’s throne room as she told him, “My cousin, King Gerard, has discussed something with us, but I know very little right now.” He turned his attention to the throne. “You called for me, your majesty?” he asked, bowing respectively. The King was seated at his throne wearing his usual red robe with white fur trimming and his crown atop his head. “Yes, Johan, I’ve received word from my nephew that he is expecting to find a suitor by the end of this year,” he began. His knight smiled and put his hands on his sides: “That sounds wonderful.” “I agree, but he’s informed me that he’s not sure how to impress a princess, let alone choose the one best for him. He’s worried that he’ll shy away from the idea or that he won’t be good enough for whichever princess he likes.” Johan’s smiled disappeared as he lifted one hand to his chin, thinking it over. “Perhaps my friends and I can help him,” he said after a minute, “I’m sure we could give him some confidence. In fact, with your permission, I may be able to ensure he chooses the best possible suitor.” To his luck, the King smiled and liked the idea. He considered bringing along Princess Savina, but Dame Barbara cut in and insisted that she remain here and master her tapestry skills – a step closer to being a “proper” princess, she proposed to the King. “In that case, when should Peewit, Falla, and I leave for King Gerard’s castle, Sire?” he asked. “I would say no later than the morrow,” he said, “in the morning is best so you arrive by late afternoon.” His knight nodded and bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty,” he concluded, leaving the throne room. He had to find his friends and tell them the plans before they feel asleep tonight. He knew Falla would be ready, but it was Peewit he worried about – he relied on him or Falla to keep him from forgetting about packing for the journey.

'''. . . ''' “Hold it steady, you ingrate!” Gargamel whispered hoarsely. He and his poor apprentice were in a wolf’s den attempting to take a few hairs while the pack was asleep, and Scruple’s job was the hold the vial while his master dropped the fur into it – he was struggling to keep his hands from trembling. The sight of the ragged wild dogs; they were brown and grey, all scrawny, snoring, twitching, or growling as they lye together on a bed of dirt and grass bits. The large cavernous rock over their heads shaded them from the dying day, and it would only be a matter of minutes before they awoke for the dusk hunt. '' Clink! '' Gargamel dropped in several more hairs from the grey fang-bearing canine into the vial and pointed to the entrance: “We have enough – get moving so we can beat this pack before they’re awake.” The boy bolted out and hid behind a tree a few feet from the den, and then followed his master looking rather sourly at him. “How dare you run like that you good-for-nothing coward! You’re pounding footsteps could have rustled those monsters from their slumber!” He snatched the vial from his hands and corked it hastily. The sun was out of view by now and the sky was darkening quickly, so he shoved the boy along as he added, “It’s dusk. They’ll be out and howling before we know it.” With that they rushed back to the safety of the hovel quite a distance away, and just as he had predicted, by the time they were approaching the front door a mournful wolf’s cry pierced the night. “Thank goodness we made it in time,” the wizard exclaimed, sighing with relief. He closed the door and walked over to the cauldron, having left it looking like a repulsive mixture of blubbery yellow oil with a low flame, and looked over his list again to cross off another obtained ingredient. &nbsp