Sir Jelly

[Palustris]

This is the first ever story I wrote, over 40 years ago now. I am not happy with the last part any more so one day I will totally rewrite it. I have an idea how I want to change it, but making the rewrite fit with the beginning section is proving a little difficult so here is the story in its original form.

Sir Jelly

Chapter One

The Gargoyle

Sir Jellincourt de Basssinfer was fed up and miserable.

“Enough is enough!” He said to his horse. The horse flicked its ears and carried on plodding along the track. You would not have recognised this dusty traveller as a knight. He wore no armour and carried no sword, neither did he have a squire with him. His armour and weapons he had sent on ahead by cart and no self respecting youth would have chosen to be the squire to this particular knight.

Sir Jellincourt lived at a time when the whole Kingdom was at peace and had been for many years. This left a problem, the knights. They were fighters and used to fighting. However, there was no-one to fight except each other. There could have been trouble, but a wise King found the answer. He did not want to get rid of the knights altogether. They would be needed if there ever was a war and it was cheaper to have the knights who paid for themselves than to have an army sitting round doing nothing.

The King came up with the idea of Tournaments. These were occasions where the knights could meet up and fight each other without any innocent bystanders getting hurt. Since it was rather expensive to be a knight what with the cost of armour and horses and squires and such like, the King offered prize money to the winners. Soon every town and city wanted to have a Tournament.

The Tournaments became very popular. Crowds turned up to watch the knights fight. There were stalls selling food and drink and souvenirs. There were side shows and acrobats and other entertainers. Boys dashed about copying their heroes, fighting with wooden swords. Girls argued as to which was the most handsome knight and bought ribbons in the colour of their particular favourites. Men bet on who would win. Mothers kept a close eye on their daughters and mended the cuts and scrapes of their playful sons. All in all a Tournament was a really good day out for nearly every one.

There were all kinds of different contests. Some knights fought on foot with swords, others with maces. There were individual contests where knight fought against knight and there were pitched battles where teams fought against each other.

The highlights of the day, though, were the Jousts. Here the knights in full armour charged at each other, riding their equally armoured horses. Each knight carried a long lance. The idea was to knock the other knight from his horse. The winner was the knight who at the end of the contest was still sat on his horse. Since knights fought only other knights most of them knew each other well and both winners and losers attended the big party after the tournament finished.

Each knight had at least one squire. The squire’s job was to look after the armour and the horse and find food and drink for his master. In return a knight would teach the squire how to fight. Squires were usually the sons of other knights.

They were not trying to kill each other. Indeed, once they had their armour on it was not that easy to kill a knight. Accidents did happen, but usually the day ended with no more than bruises and the occasional broken limb.

The knights themselves introduced one other thing. The prizes were not enough to pay all their expenses, so they came up with the idea of Ransom. Very simply, the winning knight took the loser as his prisoner. The prisoner, or his family, had to pay a ransom to be released. The better a knight became the higher the ransom that could be asked.

Sir Jellincourt was not a famous knight. He was timid. He was scared of everything, horses, spiders, mice, even his own shadow, but above all he hated fighting. His name was shortened to Sir Jelly, because he shook so much. He had never won a duel, even young knights at their first Tournament beat Sir Jelly.

You may wonder why he fought at all if he was so scared and such a poor fighter. The reason is simple, Sir Jelly was too well brought up to refuse. So, he had to pay many ransoms. Soon all he had left was one rusty set of armour, as had no squire to clean it for him, and one broken down old horse. Sir Jelly liked this horse because it was as timid as he.

Sir Jelly decided that the only thing he could do was to retire to the one castle that he had left. The castle was so old and battered nobody would accept it as a ransom. There at least nobody could challenge him. Behind the pulled up drawbridge Sir Jelly felt safe. There were no servants so he had to make his own supper. He had some cheese and bread and retired to bed.

That night there was the worst storm in many a long year. There was thunder and lightning and rain. If there was one thing Sir Jelly detested it was thunder. He tried hiding his head under the pillows, but that was no use, he could still hear it. A peculiar sight it must have been, Sir Jelly with his head under the pillows and his bottom stuck up in the air shaking with fear.

Then, a good idea struck him. Quickly he fled to the cupboard under the stairs. He could no longer hear the storm. True, something kept rustling behind the wooden panels, but as scared of mice as he was, it was still better than the thunder. There Sir Jelly stayed until morning, the only thing to disturb him was a very loud bump that he did not dare investigate.

When Sir Jelly realised that it was light he crept out to have a look around. Sooner or later he would have to find out what had gone bump in the night. He looked in the kitchen, nothing unusual there. He looked in the bedroom, it was undisturbed. He looked in every room and found nothing. There was only the courtyard left. Taking a deep breath Sir Jelly opened the door and stepped out. He was ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

It was a fine, bright, sunny morning. The only signs of the night’s storm were pools of rainwater lying round the Courtyard glistening in the sun. Sir Jelly looked round, it seemed all right. Then, he saw it, the ugliest creature that he had ever seen. So horrible was its face that Sir Jelly’s stomach turned over and he fled in panic back behind the door, panting with fear

He stood and trembled for five whole minutes before he took a deep breath, turned, opened the door and peeped round. The thing had not stirred. Sir Jelly watched it for a long time, it lay without moving. He opened the door and tiptoed across the courtyard. Round the hideous object he crept, puzzled as to what it could be and from where it had come.

It spoke. Sir Jelly jumped three feet in the air, turned white, and gave a little strangled squeak. When he landed he was so scared he could not move a muscle. It spoke again. The voice was deep, harsh and stony. It sounded as if it came from the depths of the earth.

“For heaven's sake,” it grated. “There’s no need to be scared of me, for one thing I can’t move and for another I’m supposed to protect you, not harm you.”

The voice hurt Sir Jelly’s ears. He tried to reply, but his voice would not obey him. All that came out was a tiny squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Wh, wh, who are you?”

“If you look up on your castle roof,” replied the thing, “You’ll see quite a few of my relatives.”

Sir Jelly looked up and sure enough at the top of all the drainpipes was a thing. Each one was as grotesque as the one on the ground. The sight made him quake and turn pale.

“Don’t worry,” said the one on the ground. “They can’t hurt you, they’re made from stone.”

“What are you?” Sir Jelly asked, curiosity getting the better of fear.

“We are gargoyles” answered the statue, sounding a little annoyed at Sir Jelly’s ignorance. “Our job is to frighten away evil spirits, and to send rain water down the spout.

“Well, in that case, why are you on the ground?” snapped Sir Jelly, getting upset himself at the gargoyle's tone of voice.

“Don’t get shirty,” said the gargoyle. “Last night was Midsummer’s Eve. On that day while the clock strikes twelve we are allowed to come alive and to have a stretch. You get terrible cramp sitting up there for a whole year without moving you know. Anyway, while I was having a yawn and a stretch there was a great flash of lightning. It made me jump and I fell off. Now I want to go back.”

“That should be easy,” Sir Jelly told it. “I’ll lift you up myself.”

“Try it,” advised the gargoyle.

Sir Jelly did. He tugged and pushed and shored till he was red in the face. The gargoyle lay there unmoved with a smug look on its ugly face.

“I give up,” panted Sir Jelly.

“You don’t know very much, do you?” smirked the gargoyle.

Sir Jelly, nettled, retorted. “It’s not everyday you find a gargoyle lying in your front garden. Anyway, if you are going to carry on being rude about me I shall leave you lying there.”

“No! No! I’m sorry,” the gargoyle called as Sir Jelly started to move away. “Please help me.”

“All right.” Sir Jelly came back. “Now why can’t I move you?”

The gargoyle said, “When the clock stops striking we become part of whatever we are touching, so now I’m part of the ground. The only thing that can move me is a magic spell.” The gargoyle’s voice had grown steadily fainter during this speech and Sir Jelly had to kneel down with his ear right next to its mouth to hear it say.

“Can’t speak, turning to stone.”

“Where do I find a magic spell?” Sir Jelly called desperately but there was no answer.

Sir Jelly stood up and scratched his head. He was a kindly, tender hearted man. That was one of the reasons why he was such a poor fighter. He was always worried about hurting the other chap. He wanted very much, to help the gargoyle, but he did not like the sound of magic. He also knew that the only people who dabbled in that sort of thing were witches and magicians. They were usually most unpleasant types or so he had heard. Worse still he did not know anybody who could even be faintly described as magical. It was very puzzling.


 

[ideasguy]

Off to a good start, Eric.
Quite a challenge for Sir Jelly

[Palustris]

Chapter Two

The Eagle

 
Sir Jelly wandered slowly back inside and made himself some breakfast, bread and cheese again. Sir Jelly was no cook. While he was eating he glanced round the room, it was the castle library, there were very few books. Sir Jelly’s father, a very fierce knight, had won all his battles and made himself very rich, but he had never learned to read. Sir Jelly’s mother had insisted that her son did learn and now he began to look at the few books left lying around, dusty and unused. The first one he picked up was called ‘Tales of the Dark Forest,’ He looked at the first story. It was all about a rather evil Witch who lived in the forest. Sir Jelly stopped reading. It was rather frightening reading that kind of story all alone in the Castle even though it was the middle of the morning.

The Dark Forest, that was a name to make the bravest knight shudder. It was a huge area of pine forest full of unknown dangers. Few travellers went in and those who did stayed carefully on the paths

Sir Jelly knew that the Dark Forest was just a few miles down the road. If he was to help the gargoyle he would have to go there. He did not like the idea very much, but what else could he do?

He rounded up his horse, put on his armour and started out. It did not take long for him to reach the edge of the forest. It looked very dark and unpleasant. Sir Jelly rode in. If there had been anything unpleasant awaiting him it would have run away in fright. Sir Jelly was shaking so much that his armour rattled like a dustbin full of empty sardine tins.

The path wandered between tall pine trees that seemed to Sir Jelly to be leaning over to try to snare him. The tops grew so close together and so thickly that the sun was unable to shine on the forest floor. The path was covered in thick drifts of old pine needles that muffled the horse’s hooves. The air was still and had a musty smell. There was a taste of decay. Where the sun did manage to break through the gloom, patches of sickly yellow herbs grew.

Sir Jelly was now so frightened that he could not even shake. Now he could hear the whisperings and rustlings in the trees. He shut his eyes and let the horse take him on, deeper and deeper into the forest.

Then, he heard a noise that made him jerk his eyes open. The horse stopped suddenly and pricked up its ears. Sir Jelly almost fell off, from somewhere to one side of the path came the most awful rattling of chains and a loud screeching.

Sir Jelly did fall off the horse and crawled to hide behind a tree. The noise continued, but it did not seem to be coming any closer. Sir Jelly knew he would have to find out what it was. He came out from behind his tree, tied the horse to a low branch and crept towards the sound. Soon he came to a clearing.

The screeching and flapping was an Eagle. The largest, fiercest Eagle Sir Jelly had ever seen. It had huge sharp looking talons and a cruelly hooked beak. Sir Jelly could not move. He shrank behind a bush and watched.

The Eagle was shrieking and cursing and trying to fly up in the air. It only managed to rise a few feet before it fell back to the ground. Then it pecked at its leg and tried again. Sir Jelly could see that it was fastened to the ground by a chain. It was in a trap. Immediately Sir Jelly felt sorry for the bird and without thinking he stepped from behind his bush to help. The bird stopped struggling and glared at him.

“If you come any closer, I’ll have your eyes out,” hissed the bird.

“No, No” protested Sir Jelly quickly and stepped back out of reach of its beak. “I was only going to help.”

“Ha” snapped the bird.

“If you promise not to peck me,” encouraged Sir Jelly. “I’ll undo the trap, if you don’t trust me you can still peck me while I’m doing it.”

“Go ahead,” said the bird. “But one false move and I’ll have your arm off.”

Sir Jelly came slowly forward and using all his strength pulled open the jaws of the trap. Quickly the bird snatched its leg out. It hopped around saying some very rude things. The leg was bruised and bleeding. Sir Jelly took out his only handkerchief and wrapped it round the leg. The bird looked grateful.

“Thank you, Sir Knight,” said the Eagle, “Sorry about the threats, but I thought you had set the trap. Now, can I do anything for you in return?”

Sir Jelly thought for a moment, “You don’t know of any witches who live round here do you?”

The bird looked at Sir Jelly with a peculiar expression in its eyes. “As a matter of fact I do, but she’s the last person I’d want to meet. She’s a real nasty creature, turn you into a frog as look at you.

Sir Jelly explained all about the gargoyle and the bird agreed that a magic spell from the Witch was the only answer. He gave Sir Jelly careful directions.

“If you ever need any help just whistle,” concluded the bird as it flew into the sky.

Sir Jelly watched the bird until it was just a tiny dot high up in the sky. He retraced his steps to the path, mounted his horse and rode on.

After a few miles the path divided into two. He turned to the left as the Eagle had said. A short distance along the path the way was barred by a wooden gate.

[Palustris]

Chapter Three

The Witch

Sir Jelly dismounted and pushed open the gate. His horse refused to go through so Sir Jelly tied it to a tree a little way off the path. He walked carefully down the path ready to turn and run at the first sign of a magic spell. The path led to a thatched cottage.

Swallowing twice, Sir Jelly knocked timidly on the door. He did not want to upset the Witch. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder, still there was no answer.

“Oh dear,” he thought and knocked for the third time. The door swung open. Sir Jelly turned and fled. He stopped by the garden gate and waited. Nobody spoke, nothing happened, so he went stealthily back to the open door. He looked in. There appeared to be no-one at home.

Inside, the room was dark and musty. In one corner was an open fire with a cauldron hung over it. A green, evil smelling steam was rising from it. Everywhere huge dusty cobwebs hung down. The floor looked as if it had never been swept. By the light of the fire, Sir Jelly could see a wall with shelves full of bottles and packets of strange shapes. There appeared to be no-one at home. He went in.

At the back of the room was a ragged, dusty curtain. Sir Jelly cautiously peeped round it. There was a large cage and in it, to Sir Jelly’s utter astonishment, was a young woman. She was sat calmly reading a book taking no notice of him at all. Sir Jelly stared at her.

She was small and plump with a plain but pleasant face. Her hair was short and straight and brownish. She looked up and smiled at Sir Jelly.

“Good morning,” she said, “Can I help you?”

Sir Jelly was flabbergasted. He stood with his mouth open.

“If you’re looking for the Witch she’s out for the moment,” continued the girl, “And if she returns and finds you in here she will probably do something particularly unpleasant to you.” She carefully put the book down, stood up and walked to the bars of the cage.

“Oh” was all that the astonished knight could manage, “Are you her prisoner?”

“That’s right,” said the girl. “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Princess Alison.” She curtsied very gracefully.

Sir Jelly remembered his manners, bowed and introduced himself. “Do you need any help?” he asked.

“Not really,” answered Princess Alison. “The Witch is always trying to catch me and turn me into a frog. She can’t succeed while I have this bracelet.” She showed him a plain gold band about her wrist. “This time she has put a spell on the Cottage so I cannot leave, but not to worry I will find a way out eventually. Why are you visiting the Witch?”

Sir Jelly explained about the gargoyle.

The Princess nodded and told him. “The Witch can easily manage that, but she will want something from you in return.”

Fear made Sir Jelly rather impolite. “What?”

“Oh, she’ll probably ask you to capture my brother, Prince Christian, because she wants to turn him into a toad,“replied the Princess not noticing Sir Jelly’s rudeness.

Sir Jelly turned pale. “Is he a good fighter?”

“The best in the Kingdom,” Princess Alison replied proudly.

“Oh dear,” said Sir Jelly and explained that he was not very good at Jousting.

“Never mind,” the kindly Princess consoled him, “Give him this ring and tell him I said he was to come with you.” She took a small gold signet ring from her little finger and gave it to him. “Now you’d better go and wait outside for the Witch.”

“But,” stammered Sir Jelly.

“Don’t worry,” Princess Alison calmed Sir Jelly. “Everything will turn out nicely, now go on.”

Sir Jelly went outside and shut the door. He did not like the thought of leaving the Princess in the cage but she seemed to know what she was doing. He went down the path and hid with his horse until he saw the Witch arrive.

Sir Jelly realised straight away that this was the Witch. She wore a tall black pointed hat and a long black cloak. Her face was wrinkled and dirty. Her nose was long and hooked and on the end of it trembled a drop of water. Behind her stalked a black cat and over her shoulder flew a huge black crow.

Sir Jelly waited a few minutes then he knocked on the door. It opened and he was face to face with the old crone.

“Yes?” she demanded. Her voice was like a piece of cinder being crushed under a door. Sir Jelly shuddered.

“Well?” she asked again.” Sir Jelly answered quickly in case she lost her temper.

“I wonder,” he began as politely as he could, “I wonder, if you could help me? I need a spell to lift a gargoyle back onto the roof of my castle. I have been told that you are brilliant at this sort of thing.” Flattery might please her, thought Sir Jelly.

“Hmm, come in,” grated the Witch and led the way. Sir Jelly went in for the second time. He was careful not to stare too hard at the curtain

“Now” said the Witch, “I can help you of course, but you will have to pay for the spell.”

“Naturally,” said Sir Jelly, sounding more confident than he felt.

“I will also need some things that you will have to get.” “Yes?” asked Sir Jelly with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I need a feather from the tail of an Eagle.” Sir Jelly’s hopes rose.

“And a hair from the tail of an elephant.” Sir Jelly’s hopes sank.

“Er, what’s an elephant?” He asked, feeling rather foolish.

“Idiot,” muttered the Witch, “It’s a large animal with a long tail at one end and a short one at the other. I need a hair from the small one. “

Sir Jelly’s hopes disappeared. He felt even more silly. “Where will I find one?” he asked

“Good grief! Don’t you know anything?” grumbled the Witch. “Go out of here, turn south and keep going until you find an elephant.”

“Right” said Sir Jelly and turned to go.

“Hang on, wait a minute,” said the Witch, “We haven’t discussed the price yet.”

“I’ve no money” confessed Sir Jelly turning back.

“Humph” snorted the Witch, “Money’s not what I want. If you really want the spell then you can bring Prince Christian to me as a prisoner.

Sadly remembering what Princess Alison had said, Sir Jelly agreed to the Witch’s demand.

He left the cottage mounted his horse and rode off to the South.

When he reached the place where the road split the way was barred. Sat on a white horse, in shining armour was a knight. Sir Jelly knew what was coming.

“Halt false knight. I challenge thee to prove thy manliness in honourable combat.” The stranger issued the standard challenge.

“Oh help”, thought Sir Jelly. “This is the last thing I need.” He closed the visor of his helmet and raised his lance to show he accepted the challenge, wishing desperately there was some way out of it. The stranger signalled that he too was ready.

Then it happened, a large, unfriendly wasp objected to Sir Jelly’s horse whisking its tail. With an angry hum it stung the horse on its bottom. With a shrill neigh of pain and surprise the horse took off like a streak of lightning. Sir Jelly hardly had time to close his eyes, as he usually did, before he met the other knight. Sir Jelly’s horse was moving so fast that the stranger had no time to take the proper aim. The two knights clashed. Sir Jelly’s lance caught the other knight’s shield right in the centre. With a bone-shuddering thud the knight fell from his horse and lay spread-eagled on the ground, winded. Sir Jelly’s lance shattered and he dropped the piece he had left in his hand.

“Sorry,” he shouted as his horse stampeded past. Sir Jelly clutched at the reins and tried desperately to slow his panic-stricken horse. He thought about jumping off but the ground was flashing past at such a rate that he felt safer where he was.

The horse completely ignored Sir Jelly’s pleadings, all he wanted to do was to get away from the pain behind. Sir Jelly could only hold on tight and close his eyes.

So it was that he did not see the branch that stretched across the path. The horse ducked, Sir Jelly did not. The branch swept him from the saddle and left him lying dazed on the path. When he had the breath to open his eyes he saw a strange bearded face looking down at him. He reached for his sword while the face spoke.

“Are you all right Sir? I’m sorry about the branch. I was supposed to cut it off last week, but I forgot.”

Sir Jelly’s eyes began to work properly and he could see that the man was wearing the green jacket of a forester.

“Help me up” he said angrily.

The man did so, apologising all the time. Sir Jelly calmed him down and accepted an invitation to supper.

The Forester’s wife gave him a good supper which Sir Jelly had to eat standing up because his bruises hurt. They offered him a bed for the night which Sir Jelly accepted gratefully. However, he found it difficult to sleep because of his sore chest and sore back.

He also had thought of a very large problem. He knew he could ask the Eagle for a feather. It would come if he whistled but Sir Jelly had never learned to whistle and was not sure if he knew how. Eventually, he fell asleep, exhausted.

Next morning Sir Jelly felt very stiff and sore, but a good hot breakfast made him feel a lot happier. While the knight ate, the forester groomed the horse that he had found in the forest. As he did so he whistled a happy tune. Sir Jelly went outside.

“Can you teach me to do that?” he asked the forester.

“What, groom a horse?” replied the forester sounding rather astonished.

“No, you great oaf, whistle” growled Sir Jelly.

“Certainly,” said the forester looking even more astonished.

Sir Jelly spent the morning learning how to whistle.

After lunch Sir Jelly thanked his hosts and rode off south again. After a short distance, he stopped and prepared to call the Eagle.

He put his fingers in his mouth, curled his tongue the way he had been shown and blew. He was so surprised at the shriek that followed, that he fell off his horse, again. The horse ran off down the path. As Sir Jelly sat on the ground he saw a small dark speck in the sky. It grew bigger as he sat and watched. He realised it was not one bird but a flock. Sir Jelly closed his eyes again. When he opened them he was surrounded by Eagles. The largest of them sat staring at him, unblinking. It was the Eagle that he had rescued.

“You whistled,” said the Eagle

“Er, yes” said Sir Jelly looking nervously round, “I, er, um, need some help.” Sir Jelly was rather worried, one Eagle was bad enough, but twenty was too much.

“Obviously” said the Eagle, “Or you wouldn’t have whistled. Well, what can I do for you?”

“I have to go south to get a hair from the tail of an Elephant,” said Sir Jelly, and in a lowered voice, “I need a feather from an Eagle's tail.”

“Don’t mumble,” said the Eagle.

“A feather from an Eagles1 tail,” Sir Jelly said quickly and shut his eyes, just in case the Eagle was annoyed.

“Is that all?” replied the bird, and with that it reached behind it and produced a feather. “I always keep a few handy for situations like this. They’re from when I moult. Pulling them out is too painful. How about the trip south, have you ever flown?”

“No!” burst out Sir Jelly.

“No, perhaps not, not with those puny things,” said the Eagle looking scornfully at Sir Jelly’s arms and spreading his wings out proudly.

“Me and the lads will give you a lift. Do us good, a few days in the sun, away from the wife.”

With that and not giving Sir Jelly the chance to say anything, the Eagles seized him and lifted him into the sky. Sir Jelly was flying, his stomach dropped like a stone, he closed his eyes and felt sick. The leader of the Eagles flew alongside and pointed out details of the scenery below. Sir Jelly did not see many at first because every time he opened his eyes he felt dizzy.

Eventually, he became used to it and began to look round him. Below him stretched a huge blue sea, which quickly gave way to high rocky mountains, then a stretch of sandy desert. The desert slowly changed to the green of a forest that stretched as far as he could see. The eagles began to circle lower and lower, aiming for a clearing in the Jungle near to a village. Sir Jelly found the sight of the ground coming up at him very disconcerting. By now the Eagles were tiring and this let to a most unfortunate accident. Their grip slackened and they dropped Sir Jelly. Down he went, he only had time for a quick shriek before he was in the greenery. The leaves of the trees were large and soft and broke his fall but even so he landed with a nasty bump in the clearing.

When Sir Jelly collected his scattered wits and looked up he found a group of men kneeling in front of him. They had buried their faces in the soil of the clearing. Sir Jelly found himself looking at a row of bottoms. He stood up painfully and realised he had a few more bruises. This business was altogether too painful.

One of the men raised his head and spoke in a solemn voice. “Welcome oh mighty warrior. Our wise men told us of the man of Iron who would fall from the sky. Welcome oh great and wise Warrior.”

Sir Jelly was rather surprised at this greeting and was just about to deny everything when he stopped and decided to play along.

He brushed the soil from his armour and lifted the chief to his feet. “Thank you for your kind welcome,” said Sir Jelly gravely. He was wondering what had happened to the Eagles. He need not have bothered for they had seen him rise and had gone off to hunt.

“We are preparing a feast in your honour,” the chief informed Sir Jelly. “Please come to the hut we have built especially for you.”

Sir Jelly bowed and allowed the chief to lead the way. The other villagers followed singing and dancing. At the village a huge feast was indeed being made ready.

When it was ready, Sir Jelly and the whole village sat down to eat. Laughing, giggling girls served leaves full of steaming food. Sir Jelly did not know what it was but he did not think it would be polite to refuse to eat it. He ate and hoped it would not give him indigestion or bad dreams. Everybody had a good time, except that is, one man who was dressed, or undressed thought Sir Jelly, in an animal head and little else. He looked thoroughly fed up.

Sir Jelly nudged the chief and pointed to the man. “Who’s he?”

“That’s our Witch doctor,” replied the chief when he could, a poke in the ribs from an armour plated elbow tends to be a bit painful. “He’s a bit put out by your arrival. He’s spent all week making a very powerful spell to help us win the battle tomorrow. Now of course we won’t need it because you’ll win the battle for us.”

Sir Jelly choked on a piece of fruit. Unfortunately, nobody liked to punch him on the back and he coughed and spluttered while the chief went on.

“There’s only fifty of them so you should have no difficulty beating them while we prepare the Victory Feast.”

Although he had stopped spluttering, Sir Jelly was speechless and quite happy to retire to his hut for the night. He did not sleep at all that night. He sat and thought and thought about what he was going to do. Absent mindedly he drew his sword. It was a bit dirty and rusty. Sir Jelly did not clean it as often as a good knight should, because he was frightened of cutting himself. He began idly pushing it in the sandy floor of the hut. When he looked at the tip it was bright and shiny. Sir Jelly pushed the sword its full length into the sand. After a few goes the whole blade shone like silver.

Then Sir Jelly had a brilliant idea. He locked the door of the hut and took off his armour. He took a handful of sand and began rubbing.

Next morning, the chief led the villagers in procession to the hut. They knocked and Sir Jelly emerged. The effect was instant and very gratifying to Sir Jelly. All the villagers gasped and dropped flat on the ground with their hands over their eyes.

Sir Jelly called for them to rise.

The chief was the first to get to his feet. “See,” he called “The Man of Iron shines like silver to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.“ He led the villagers in a wild dance round the rather pleased Sir Jelly.

“Lead me to the battle ground,” ordered Sir Jelly. The men obeyed. When they arrived the large clear space in the forest was empty. Sir Jelly ordered his new friends to cover his armour in leaves. Then he and they waited quietly in the bushes until the other people arrived.

Fifty screaming men waving spears came out of the bushes. They stopped when they saw that the clearing was empty. Sir Jelly brushed off the leaves, stepped forward waving his sword over his head and shouting.

The attackers took one look and fell to the ground screaming for mercy. Sir Jelly waved to his followers to collect up all the weapons. Then he made the two chiefs promise to keep the peace. Both tribes then went to the village for the feast. Sir Jelly was happy to see that both sides seemed friendly.

After the feast the chiefs came to Sir Jelly, “Now, your honour, you have brought peace to our villages, how can we repay you?”

“I need the hair from an Elephant’s tail,” replied Sir Jelly.

The chiefs’ faces lit up. “An Elephant Hunt,"  they cried. There was great excitement. “The Man of Iron is going to kill an elephant,” they told each other. Sir Jelly tried to protest but nobody listened, they were too busy planning the hunt.

[Palustris]

Chapter Four

The Elephant

Later that morning, Sir Jelly was led out into the jungle and the villagers went off to drive an elephant towards him. The poor knight stood knees knocking, sword in hand waiting.

It did not take long for them to find a big bull elephant. Shouting and banging pots, they drove it towards Sir Jelly’s position. He took one look at it charging towards him and closed his eyes. Nobody had told him just how big it was nor that it had huge teeth sticking out in front like spears.

The enraged elephant saw Sir Jelly and charged straight at him fully intending to trample him into the dust.

Just then the sun came out from behind a cloud and Sir Jelly's armour gleamed. With a squeal of fear the Elephant veered to the left, Sir Jelly heard its thundering feet and vaguely waved his sword in the air. Then with a rush of air and a squeal of pain the elephant had gone past. Sir Jelly was surrounded by dancing and singing natives.

“Never before,” declared the Chief, “Has any man cut off an elephant's tail without first killing the elephant.”

The wild swing of Sir Jelly’s sword had done just that. I hasten to add, not the whole of the poor animals tail, just a slice of the very end. Fortunately it was covered in hairs. The rather confused, but pleased knight took the hair that he needed and presented the rest of the tail to the Witch Doctor.

“Keep this as a sign of peace between your two people. If there is any war between your two villages, it will call to me and I will return to punish the war-makers.” warned Sir Jelly. “But now I must leave you.”

The villagers were very upset but Sir Jelly insisted. He waved farewell and went into the forest to the clearing where the eagles had first dropped him.

They were there waiting for him. “Get what you wanted?” asked their leader.

“Yes, thank you”

“Good,” said the Eagle. “We’ll have to get a move on, the wife will carry on something scandalous.”

With that the Eagles seized Sir Jelly and rose into the sky. This time Sir Jelly enjoyed the flight and it seemed to take far less time. The Eagles brought Sir Jelly to the path near the Foresters hut. He thanked them courteously and waved as they flew away.

Sir Jelly walked down the path to the forester's hut. The Forester came out and welcomed Sir Jelly.

“We were worried when I found your horse in the forest and no sign of you. He’s in the stables.”

“Thank you,” said Sir Jelly. “Could you direct me to the King’s castle, please.” “Certainly,” replied the Forester.

Sir Jelly set off on his quest to find Prince Christian. He came to the crossroads where he had knocked the knight from his horse. To his great surprise, the knight was still out there on the grass. When he saw Sir Jelly, he jumped to his feet.

“Oh not again,” thought Sir Jelly, but instead of challenging him the strange knight presented his sword to Sir Jelly, handle first.

“I am your prisoner sir,” the knight declared.

“Oh, yes, certainly,” stammered Sir Jelly. He had not taken any one prisoner before and he was not really sure what to do.

“I have waited for you to return,” said the Knight.

“Sorry,” apologised Sir Jelly, I was in a hit of a hurry.”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” said the younger knight. “I am Prince Christian, my father is King of this country and will pay any ransom you care to name.” He bowed.

Sir Jelly returned the bow and introduced himself. “I’m afraid, however,” said Sir Jelly, “A ransom is not what I want, I have to deliver you to the Witch.”

“I say,” protested the knight, “That’s a bit ungentlemanly isn’t it?”

Sir Jelly agreed sadly, and explained about the gargoyle, the eagle’s feather, the hair from the elephant's tail and finally gave Prince Christian his sister's ring and message.

“Why didn’t you say?” cried the Prince. “If Alison says it’s all right, then lets go.”

They rode to the witches cottage and Sir Jelly told of his adventures. Prince Christian was very impressed and told Sir Jelly how brave he was.

It did not take long to reach the cottage. Sir Jelly knocked. The door creaked open and the Witch cackled with glee when she saw Prince Christian. She uttered some foul sounding words and Prince Christian turned instantly into a toad.

“Not again” the toad croaked, “It gives me awful indigestion.”

Sir Jelly was rather upset, but trusting in Princess Alison he said nothing. He gave the Witch the things that he had collected. She mixed them together with some other ingredients that she took from a shelf and finally poured on some drops of bright orange liquid. The mixture bubbled and gave off a purple smoke. The Witch gabbled some words over the pot and then poured the liquid into a small bottle.

“Pour that on its tail” she hissed. “Then it will be able to fly back to its place, now get out.”

Then Sir Jelly did the bravest thing in his life. He strode over to the curtain that covered the cage and threw it aside, uncovering the Princess.

“I’m not leaving without the Prince and Princess,” he declared.

The Witch stared at him in horrible amusement. “Then stay” she chuckled. “Forever!”

“Silly boy,” hissed the Princess, “Take this” and she thrust her bracelet into his hand.

The Witch cast her spell and it flew through the air at Sir Jelly. The magic bracelet prevented it from working and his shining armour reflected it back to the Witch.

In the corner of the room was a large, full length mirror. With a shriek that turned to a surprised croak the Witch melted into the glass. In a few seconds she had completely disappeared.

Prince Christian re-appeared, the cage disappeared, the black cat howled and gradually disappeared in a plume of smoke, the crow grew larger and larger until it burst in a silent explosion of light.

Sir Jelly stood blinking at the results of his interference. The Princess spoke, “I think we would be safer outside.”

She led the two knights outside and not a moment too soon for with a horrendous crack the roof of the cottage collapsed.

That's the end of the Witch” said Prince Christian.

“I am not so sure,” said Princess Alison. “Look over there.”

The mirror had survived the fall of the roof. The glass was covered in dust and cobwebs, but inside the mirror could be seen the face of the Witch.

“What happened” asked the bemused Sir Jelly.

“Once you turn a Witch’s spell against her, all her evil spells are destroyed,” explained Princess Alison.

“What about my spell?” asked Sir Jelly worriedly.

“That will be all right, because it is a potion rather than a spell and once made, they always work.” replied the Princess. “Now I would like to go home.”

They mounted their horses, Princess Alison riding behind her brother. Off they set and once again Sir Jelly had to tell of his adventures.

When they reached the Castle, they were welcomed by the King and Queen who threw a party to celebrate the end of the Witch.

Prince Christian insisted that Sir Jelly name a ransom, but Sir Jelly did not want one.

“I did not really beat you in fair fight, “he explained. “It was my horse who was running away.”

“All the same, you did knock me off mine and you did rescue Alison, so you must have some reward,” insisted Prince Christian.

“You could teach me how to fight, so I can win back some of my lands and things,” said Sir Jelly.

“Agreed!”

Prince Christian was as good as his word and Sir Jelly soon became almost as good a fighter as the Prince himself. Once the knight had won back his lands and money he asked for the hand of Princess Alison in marriage. He gave up fighting which he did not really enjoy. He became such a happy man that he was no longer known as Sir Jelly, rather Sir Jolly.

The mirror was collected from the ruins of the Cottage. It was carefully sealed in a room in a tower in the King's Castle. The window was bricked up so no light could shine on it and the only key to the door was melted down by the Castle armourer.

“There it can stay forever,” said the King.

“I am not so sure of that, but we can hope.” said Princess Alison.