Roland's Castle Read Online Free

ladder
down into the moat where the bubbles were coming up from and held
the torch over them so the pair could see their way up. They both
clambered up the ladder and flopped down on the planks, struggling
and panting for breath.
    “The quiri-thingey wotsit! Where is
it?” Bobblejob gasped, looking around anxiously.
    “Err.. that’s gone now,” Roland
said, suddenly feeling very guilty.
    “Thank goodness! We did exactly
the right thing ,” Bobblejob said, turning to Jubblebub.
    “Exactly the right thing!”
Jubblebub repeated.
    “What did I always tell you?” said
Bobblejob. “First sign of trouble – jump in the moat and then they
can’t get you!”
    “Right! Lesson learnt!” said
Jubblebub.
    They were still gasping for breath
and too helpless to do anything else.
    “I’ll just go and have a look
around to make sure the quirrininx has actually gone,” Roland said,
wishing to make a swift exit.
    “Good idea,” said Bobblejob. “Just
make sure it has actually gone.”
    “Yes, please make sure its
gone.” agreed Jubblebub.
    “Okay,” said Roland. “Be back later
then…”
    “Okay.” said the idiot pair, waving
at him as he went.
    As soon as he was out of sight of
the guards Roland broke into a run. He was excited at the prospect
of a night’s adventure with his best friend and didn’t want to
waste any time at all. He ran along the road into the village, down
the main street and into a side street. Here the timbered houses
leaned out towards each other so that the upper storeys almost
touched over the centre of the road. He picked up a small loose
cobble and threw it up at one of the shuttered windows above his
head. It made a loud bang and fell down into the street. He picked
it up and threw it again, this time making an even louder bang. He
was about to do it a third time when Oliver stuck his head out of
the window. On seeing Roland he waved and went to dress.
    Oliver’s family were of the class
that Roland’s father called “the best of men” and that his uncle
called “loathsome peasants,” but to Roland Oliver was simply his
friend. Oliver’s mother had originally come from Africa – a story
in itself – and he had inherited her dark skin and black curly
hair.
    They had met one day when Roland
had been out for a walk. He had to walk as his father and Firebrace
wouldn’t allow him to learn to ride. Later his auntie and uncle
also forbade it. Roland was annoyed by the fact that he was nine
and a half – as he had been then – and was not allowed on a horse
because of the “danger.” What danger? he thought. The danger I
might ride out and see something of the world, find something out
about it, perhaps? It was health and safety, as always…
    As he had walked he had spotted a
horse - without a rider but with full tack - on the path in front
of him. He looked around but could see no one whose presence would
explain it. It looked like his chance had come. Dare he actually
ride a horse? Dare he ride someone else’s horse without their
say-so?
    He thought he would risk it. He
approached it gently, put his foot in the left stirrup and swung
himself up. He had seen adults do it and the motion came easily to
him. He grasped the reins and was about to nudge the horse forwards
with his knees – as he had seen adults do – when he heard a noise
from down in the deep ditch beside the path.
    He looked down to see a face
staring up at him.
    “What are you doing on my horse?”
the face said.
    Roland couldn’t think of anything
that would explain the situation apart from ‘stealing it’, which he
didn’t want to admit to. Instead he posed a counter question. “What
are you doing down there?”
    “Trying to get out,” said the face,
now sounding annoyed.
    “Why did you get down there in the
first place?” Roland asked.
    “Well I didn’t do it on purpose did
I! I fell in! I tried to ride the horse and it threw me off and I
landed down here. Now I suppose you are going to leave me