The Delivery

The castle keep stood dark and silent, shrouded in early morning mist. The only movement was a soft breeze through the treetops.

Orlando drew his sword and crept along the path leading up to the main gate. Despite being warned of the Beast, he was still surprised by its attack. It rushed out of the mist and body-slammed Orlando against the Keep’s wall. He gave an anguished cry as his sword clattered onto the cobblestones and disappeared into the swirling mists. But the vessel he had to deliver stayed firm in his other hand. He wouldn’t be beaten so easily and would not fail this quest.

He saw that the Keep’s gate was raised, and a plan formed quickly in his mind.

The snorting of the beast drifted to Orlando across the breeze. The Beast was so close that its rancid breath washed over him. He remained still and listened, waiting for a sign of attack . . . Then, a deep howl and a scraping of claws alerted him of the Beast’s next move. Orlando drew his dagger and sprinted towards the gate. 

The Beast’s head speared through the mists to Orlando’s left, its fangs bared, its red eyes wide. Orlando dived, full length, slashing at the thick rope holding up the gate. It crashed down on top of the Beast - stunning and pinning it to the ground. Success!

A cough rasped above Orlando; then a face appeared in the murder hole. Wide browed, creased with wrinkles and surrounded by matted grey hair, the face smiled.

‘Got here all right, then?’

‘Y-yes,’ Orlando stammered, holding up the vessel. ‘Good morning, m’lady.’

‘I hope Caesar behaved himself,’ the face said. ‘He can be a little playful at times. Too eager, you know?’

‘Yes, m’lady.’ Orlando knelt on one knee and placed the vessel on the courtyard floor.

A low groan rumbled across the cobbles. The pinned beast was slowly regaining its senses. Slowly. There was plenty of time for Orlando to make good his escape. As he hoisted the gate, the beast moaned and rolled onto its side.

Whistling a merry tune, Orlando walked through the gateway, stepped over the beast and ambled on his way.

‘I hope that milk is low fat?’

The question stopped Orlando. Dead.

Low fat?

Oh no, he thought.

He looked up at the face and smiled.

‘Right then, m’lady.’ Orlando’s gaze dropped to the beast. It was almost back on its feet, its eyes glowing, mouth salivating. ‘I’ll be right back.’

T H E  E N D