Excalibur Read Free Page A

isn’t it?’ said Brat. ‘And I’ve got a pointy stick.’
    In the end Brat was forced to admit that his pointy stick, which wasn’t actually pointy because he didn’t have anything to sharpen it with, was not so much a weapon as a walking stick he had used to help himself climb up to the cave. He explained that the revolution hadn’t actually started and that the only act of rebellion he had done was running away, which had probably made the Cook very cross, but not bothered anyone else at all.
    â€˜Though if the Cook is angry, it means she’ll probably spit in the Royal Soup like she has every other time something has made her cross, which is at least once a day,’ said Brat.
    â€˜Well, it’s a start,’ said Bloat encouragingly.
    â€˜Yeah. I mean, it’s early days,’ said Brat. ‘We only ran away this morning.’
    â€˜Well, there you go,’ said Bloat. ‘A few hours and you’ve already got a stick.’
    â€˜And a brain-dead idiot with a bucket.’
    â€˜Well, things can only improve from now on. Can’t they?’ said Bloat, cheerfully.
    And he was cheerful. It was a strange feeling that he hadn’t been expecting. Like Brat, he had dreamt of rebellion and had run away. He hadn’t really thought much beyond that. He certainly hadn’t the faintest idea how he could change things back to how they used to be. In fact, all he had really thought was going to happen was that he would go up to the cave and hide there for a bit until he got hungry and his parents started to worry and then he’d go home again and pretend to his little brothers and sisters that he been away on a big secret mission. But now he had an ally who was a real rebel, so he could go on real secret missions.
    â€˜Don’t suppose you brought any spare food with you, did you?’ he asked Brat.
    â€˜No, sorry. I’ve just got a bag of gristle and a bag of oats for Scraper,’ said Brat.
    â€˜Oh. It’s just that I’m getting a bit hungry,’ said Bloat and hurriedly added when he saw the two boys start to look anxious, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you. We’re allies, remember?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Brat nervously.
    â€˜My mum says all lies are bad,’ said Scraper. ‘She says you have to tell the troof.’
    â€˜SHUT UP.’
    â€˜Well, you can have some of my gristle and then I reckon we should go down to the main road and do some highwayman stuff and get some money and food off people,’ said Brat. ‘And you can breathe fire at them if they won’t hand it over.’
    Bloat was excited and scared at the same time. His parents had told him that he wasn’t allowed to breathe fire at people, not since the treaty with the humans, so the most exciting things he had set fire to had been a clump of grass, a cockroach and his left foot. Not exactly thrilling, though it had brought tears to his eyes. It was obvious that fire-breathing took practice, unless you wanted to keep burning your feet.
    So the two incompetent rebels and their even more incompetent assistant went down to the bottom of the valley. Keeping themselves as well hidden as possible, they walked round the edge of Camelot’s vast lake until they reached the road and hid behind a big oak tree. Several carriages went by before they summoned up enough courage to leap out and hold one up.
    â€˜STOP!’ shouted Brat, waving his stick. ‘Your money or your life.’
    â€˜My life, my life?’ said the coachman from his seat high up on the front of the carriage. ‘Whatcha going to do? Poke me with your stick?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ shouted Brat, ‘the pointy end.’
    â€˜It hasn’t got a pointy end,’ said the coachman. ‘And besides, I’ve got a gun.’
    â€˜Umm, oh,’ said Brat, almost but not quite wetting himself. ‘Well, er, well, I’ve got a