The Battle for the Castle by Elizabeth Winthrop Page B

eye?”
    â€œWhat eye?”
    â€œWhy the eye of the horse, of course. Come along, my good fellow. Follow me,” Deegan cried, and catapulted himself into the courtyard with a series of increasingly tight handsprings. So swiftly did he rotate that he was soon nothing but a green blur streaking across the space.
    William watched as the fool completed his first circle around the courtyard. It was crazy to do a tumblingpass on the hard cobblestones, but as Deegan headed back in his direction, William’s body tensed. He wanted to join the fool.
    â€œHe’s coming back,” Tolliver cried.
    When Deegan whirled past for a second turn, William cartwheeled into line behind him. The crowd roared at the sight of them, but William focused only on Deegan as if he could suck from him everything he needed—the energy, the timing, the courage to tumble on uneven cobblestones strewn with straw. It was a crazy and daring display but Deegan gave it his all and by the time they made their second circle together, William had found his old rhythm.
    Deegan’s idea seemed to be working. With a look of wild alarm, the horse turned this way and that, trying to keep all his attackers in view at once.
    Sir Morlan cursed the poor stallion and tried to hold him in one direction while, at the same time, swiveling around in the seat to locate the boy. The horse’s momentary confusion gave Jason the split second of advantage he needed, and he charged from the right flank, his lance balanced correctly in his arm for the first and only time. But he misjudged once again, and the lance got stuck in the space between the knight’s leg and his saddle.
    This was the final blow for the poor horse. He took off at a dead run for the drawbridge, with Sir Morlanroaring at him to stop and Jason hanging on for dear life.
    â€œLET GO, JASON!” William screamed as he came up from his last dizzying cartwheel. “LET GO OF THE LANCE!” But by that time, Jason seemed to be frozen in his peculiar position. The last they saw of him, he was headed across the moat, one hand steering the handlebars and the other clamped to the hilt of his weapon the way a drowning man clings to a piece of driftwood.
    Up on the ramparts, the crowd rushed to the other side of the wall walk and called down reports. “They’re over the moat, down the hill, now.” “We’ve lost them. They’ve galloped out of sight.”
    A stillness settled over the courtyard. Everybody turned toward Sir Simon, who rose to his feet and looked around in a bewildered way.
    Without any warning, Deegan came up behind William, picked him up with one easy lift and settled him onto his shoulders. William was too surprised to object. One minute he was on the ground, his mind in a blur, and the next, he was sitting high up like a boy at a holiday parade. They walked toward the drawbridge.
    â€œDeegan,” Sir Simon shouted. “What are you doing?”
    â€œGoing to welcome home the hero,” Deegan called back without turning around.
    â€œI wish you weren’t leaving,” William said to the air.
    â€œA fool cannot do the same tricks he did yesterday, my good William. And I have tricks for trade. You teach me yours, I’ll teach you mine.”
    â€œBut what happens if—”
    â€œIf what?”
    â€œIf the ship comes back?”
    â€œI am nothing but a fool, boy.”
    â€œWill you know if we need you? Will you come then?”
    â€œI come, I go. Half past yesterday, twenty minutes to tomorrow. I am the man of the moment, reinventing myself every day. I have told you before. A fool is not to be counted on.”
    â€œLucky you,” William muttered to himself from his perch.
    â€œSo, half-man, half-boy, what do you see?” Deegan said when he stopped in the center of the drawbridge.
    â€œSomeone’s coming back,” came a shout from the top of the wall walk.
    â€œWhich one?” called a