Sword of the Spirit

Rob Keeley

Description

Following the success of his award-longlisted Childish Spirits and its sequel The Spirit of London, prolific children's author Rob Keeley is back with The Sword of the Spirit, the third instalment in his thrilling and suspenseful Spirits series. Ellie's investigations into the spirit world have reached a medieval castle, where archaeologists are digging for the fabled Sword of St Merrell. But she didn't expect to meet a real medieval knight. Nor was she expecting him to be an ancestor of Edward Fitzberranger. Ellie discovers that behind a legend of chivalry and bravery lies a dark and nasty truth. And worse is to come. Ellie's meddling has consequences she could never have foreseen. This time, she may have gone too far... The Sword of the Spirit works both as a standalone novel and as part of a series. It will appeal to girls and boys of upper primary and lower secondary age - primarily 8-12 - and to parents and teachers reading the book aloud.

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mars 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800469419
• Langue: English

Extrait

By the same author
The Alien in the Garage and Other Stories
The (Fairly) Magic Show and Other Stories
The Dinner Club and Other Stories
Childish Spirits
The Spirit of London

Copyright © 2016 Rob Keeley
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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ISBN 978 1800469 419
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
Ellie had never expected to find herself living in a castle.
She stepped out of the staff cottage in the rear of the stable-block. She walked along the path and through the gate marked PRIVATE into the outer courtyard. Opposite were the ruins of the priest’s house and the chapel, and in the centre of the courtyard was a fountain.
Holiley Castle rose up in front of her. The drawbridge was down and the ancient portcullis was raised. The barbican, a narrow passage that had once been filled with traps for any unwary attacker, led to the stone gatehouse, with the inner courtyard beyond. There were four towers, and it was impossible to tell from the outside whether anyone was standing at the top of them. Ellie sometimes wanted to move out of range, in case arrows or boiling oil should come raining down on her as she went into the castle to speak to her Mum.
The castle had been perfectly defended. Even before attackers could reach it, they’d have had to make their way across open parkland, with no cover anywhere. The forest didn’t start for a quarter of a mile.
The whole place had been built to defend, and to impress, and to last. Thanks to Journeyback UK, it would be lasting for a good while yet.
Ellie walked along the front of the stable-block. It was eight o’clock on a sunny school holiday morning. The castle wouldn’t open to the public for a couple of hours, but the tearoom was already up and running for the Journeyback staff.
Ellie entered.
There was only one other customer, a young man with a Journeyback volunteer’s badge who sat in a corner eating bacon and waffles with maple syrup. Very medieval, Ellie thought.
“Morning.” Behind the counter, guarding a glass dome of Danish pastries, stood a cheerful young woman with long dark hair, a tanned face and a cheeky expression.
“Morning, Tina.” Ellie stepped up to the counter and felt in her pocket for change.
“Your lot not up yet?”
“Charlie’s staying with his mates this week,” Ellie said. “Mum’s already started work. They’re getting ready for a TV crew, or something.” She glanced at the breakfast menu above the counter. “Do you know why they’re coming?”
“Joking, aren’t you?” Tina grinned. She had a country accent that Ellie loved. “No one tells me anything, I’m only a food operative. Sandwich buffet for six people at twelve o’clock. That’s all I know. What are you having, then?”
“Bacon sarnie, please,” said Ellie. “And a cup of tea.”
When Tina brought them, Ellie hoisted herself up onto one of the high stools at the counter. She was now just tall enough to manage it.
“How’s the cottage?” Tina asked.
“We’re doing all right.” Ellie drank her tea. “‘Least I’ve got my own room this time. It was quite clever of them to turn the stables into cottages. We’re the first people to live in there since the Middle Ages, according to the guidebook. The grooms used to sleep in the stable-loft.”
“Wouldn’t fancy that,” Tina said. “It’d bring on my hay fever.”
“Are you coming to the medieval fayre on Saturday?” Ellie started her sandwich.
“Yeah.” Tina grinned again. “They’ve got me doing the hog roast. Management hired the machine, but they didn’t want to pay for a chef, so I’m doing it. Full serving wench gear, and everything! I chose the costume yesterday afternoon. You got yours yet?”
“Not yet.” Ellie swallowed bacon and ketchup. “There’s a Maid Marian outfit, about my size.”
“Best watch out,” Tina said. “All the staff have got to be in costume. I think Laurence quite fancies being Robin Hood.”
“Euww.” Ellie pulled a face. “Thanks for warning me. Who’s Marcus? The Sheriff of Nottingham?”
“More like Friar Tuck,” Tina said. Her eyes glittered wickedly. “Reckon he still wants to be the King. Bit of luck, the two of them’ll fight a duel. Liven things up a bit.”
“There’s going to be a jester,” Ellie said. “And a man doing swordcraft.” She took another bite from her sandwich. “I’ll let you know if I hear any more.”
Tina moved away towards the kitchen.
Ellie took her phone from her pocket.
There was still no reply to the message she’d sent Dad yesterday. Nor had there been any answer from the house when she’d phoned. She was worried about him.
It wasn’t her fault the court had decided that she and Charlie should live with Mum. Mum was the one with the job, and the money to look after two kids.
Dad had taken it badly. Ellie was sure he blamed her, for choosing Mum over him.
Why were people always fighting?
After breakfast Ellie went for a walk across the park, towards the forest.
It always amazed her, when she visited castles and manor houses, how much land surrounded them. How much of England had been owned by just a few people. Her guidebook told her that Holiley was the ancestral home of the Earls of Stapleton. They had stood alongside William the Conqueror and Richard the Lionheart, had lived on through Henry the Eighth and Civil War and World Wars and they were still around. The Earl of today was now an elderly man and was only too pleased to have Journeyback running the place, while he lived a quiet life in nearby Ulsbridge.
All that land… all those rich families…
She wondered how Edward was, this morning. His family, the Fitzberrangers, had been around almost as long as the Stapletons. Now, Edward was leading a quiet life as well, down at Stipley Hall.
She didn’t know why she kept stressing about him. He had to be OK. He was a ghost. He couldn’t get ill, or have accidents. He now had two grown-up ghosts to look after him, and if he got bored, he could always frighten people who came to visit Stipley.
Let’s face it, Ellie, she told herself. You miss him. He frightened you, and played tricks on you, and did all he could to wind you up, but you still miss him. He’s your friend.
Edward had been a proper link with the past, not like the actors in silly costumes that Journeyback used. Edward was real history. He was what her teacher called a primary source. Everything at Holiley was secondary.
She stared out towards the forest. She could hear something. A faint sound, which was growing louder.
It sounded like horses’ hooves.
She leapt aside, as a white horse came thundering out of the trees and across the open ground towards the castle.
The figure on its back wore a helmet, a bright red surcoat and a cloak, and had a sword by his side.
He was a knight.
Ellie gave a scream, as the horse reared and threw its rider to the ground.
For a moment, the knight tried to rise. Then he fell back upon the grass and lay still.
The horse charged on alone towards the castle.
Ellie stood very still, wondering which way to turn. She had no idea how to calm a runaway horse. She was more concerned for the rider.
Slowly, very cautiously, she approached the fallen figure.
Despite the sword, he wasn’t dressed for battle. He had no armour, apart from the helmet. Beneath the surcoat that was tied robe-like at his waist, he wore a leather jerkin over a white tunic, and woollen trouser things she had an idea were called ‘hose’. His gloves and pointed boots were also of leather.
She recognised the logo on the surcoat… no… the ‘crest’… ‘heraldry’, was that the word? She would be doing medieval history at school in September. She wished she were doing it now.
The crest was emblazoned in gold on the red background. Ellie had seen it all over the place at Holiley. It was in the guidebook, on every Journeyback sign.
It was the heraldry of the Earl of Stapleton.
The figure still wasn’t moving. She reached for his wrist and checked his pulse. His heart was still beating, anyway.
What now? Get that helmet off him. Give him some air.
Summoning all her courage, she took hold of the cold metal surface and pulled.
The helmet came off easily.
Her eyes widened.
The man beneath the helmet was young and incredibly handsome. He had a mane of golden hair that shone like a halo in the early morning sun.
Ellie had often wondered what heroes looked like, knights like those in the storybooks, who rescued damsels and slew dragons.
Now she knew.
Chapter Two
Ellie stood wondering what to do next.
She could see this wasn’t just a man in costume. Everything looked too correct for that. His cloak was travel-stained, his boots were muddy. This man hadn’t borrowed his outfit from Journeyback.
Her nose told her he was for real, as well. She remembered that people didn’t have baths so often in the Middle Ages. It was a shame that someone who looked so good should smell so bad. She supposed he couldn’t help it.
It looked as if she’d found