Roland's Castle Read Online Free PDF

Scary Oak! It was scary this time!”
    “Yip!” Roland agreed.
    “Who were those maniacs?” Oliver
asked.
    “I don’t know but I hope I never
find out. Now I have to get back to another lot. Such is life!”
    “Well, if you need rescuing – I
will have to come and rescue you. Like a damsel in distress, in her
tower!”
    “Knock it off!” Roland said,
feigning a swipe at Oliver, then he said, seriously, “I would be
grateful if you would come, when I need you. Strange things are
about to happen, I think.”
    Both went in their different
directions to their homes. Roland had to trick his way past the
twin twits again. What a trial!

Chapter 3

    The next day Roland found himself
the object of knightly practice, again. His aunt looked on proudly
as her boys took out all their nasty and beastly tendencies on
him.
    “Boys, play gently,” she said, “I
have to go off now as I’ve a hogshead of anchovies, a spit crammed
with quail and a great swan pie awaiting me…”
    But Auntie did not have time to
retire to her repast; at that moment the castle’s lookouts blew
their trumpets and cried “Strangers!”
    The men-at-arms doubled to their
posts and Roland and his cousins ran up to the battlements to see
who was coming along the way. From the moment he set eyes upon the
strangers Roland was horrified. It was the two madmen he and Oliver
had seen at the Scary Oak just last night – and they were heading
right for the castle! Both were on horseback and the girl was
walking behind them. She looked tired and sad.
    The Herald appeared on the
battlements with his horn and blew the notes signifying that those
approaching the castle had been identified as gentlefolk.
    In the courtyard Auntie Hildegrind
was frantically trying to organise everyone and everything to look
at least a bit respectable. It was not easy, with chunks of masonry
and half demolished buildings in most places, as well as assorted
torture instruments scattered about. Still, she satisfied herself
that she had done some sort of a job by the time that the two
maniacs came riding through the castle gate to the sound of more
notes from the Herald’s trumpet.
    Uncle Dagarth, Auntie Hildegrind,
Dogwood and Dagwood assembled themselves as a welcoming party with
Roland tacked on the end like an afterthought. The two men
dismounted and approached. The girl stayed by the horses. Only
Roland, still grateful for not being given away the night before,
paid her any attention whatsoever.
    Auntie Hildegrind was the first to
speak: “welcome to our h-h-h-h - errr castle.” she said, choking on
the word “humble”. Then she couldn’t wait for the formal
introductions before making excuses for the state of the place.
“Sorry for the mess, but we are having some work done.”
    “It’s usually the plumbing with
these old places isn’t it?” the tall one said, making light of it.
Auntie seemed relieved.
    “I am Lord Brill-a-Brag,” the tall
one continued, and then gestured towards the short fat one, “and
this is Gloatenglorp, my seneschal.”
    “Bless you!” Gloatenglorp said, and
he saluted, clicked his heels together and did a little dance, then
bowed.
    “I’m the Lord Dagarth, and this is
my Lady Hildegrind and my fine sons, Dogwood and Dagwood,” said
Uncle Dagarth, ignoring Roland like a bad smell.
    Bril-a-Brag approached and said,
“My most dehumblegraded ingratiationments and flattertudes to you,
my Lord,” and bowed deeply.
    “And to your lumpish woman,”
Gloatenglorp added.
    “Whaaaaaaaat!” cried Auntie
Hildegrind.
    Bril-a-Brag continued. “We are
pilgrims, on the way to Caunter bury, the holy blissful
martyr for to seek. We come in peace and – ahhhhhh!” – his eye had
suddenly been caught by Dagarth’s rack – “Is that a Mk V
Superstretch I see? With all the optional extras including fine
control and the stretch-a-matic feature?”
    “You know your tortureware!” said
Dagarth admiringly, his eyes brightening at the recognition of