To Find a Wonder

Whooping a victory cry, Mortimer dashed around the muddy contest field. He jumped onto the split rail fence and addressed Sir Emberly, his liege knight. “These men are but pups, Sir Emberly!”
Mortimer twirled off the fence to meet Will, his next challenger. A powerful stroke sent a jolt through Mortimer’s arm but he followed through with another thrust, and then threw his elbow into his opponent’s stomach.
Will crumpled to the ground gasping for air. Mortimer turned in a circle, his wooden practice sword raised and ready, heart thumping in his throat, but not a single competitor was left standing.
Sir Emberly nudged his palfrey, steering her from the vantage point on the hill. The knight’s mouth set in a grim line, his knuckles white-gripped the reign.
...tub of lard…always bossin’ me about…if only I could carry a knight who didn’t weigh as much as his armor…
Mortimer grinned despite the sour look on Emberly’s face. If only the other squires could hear what Emberly’s horse thought of his rider the way Mortimer could.
“Shall I be dubbed a knight now, Emberly?” Mortimer asked eagerly, shaking his bobbed red hair. Being a knight was the only thing he ever wanted. The only dream he ever had. “No squire compares to me, with sword or lance, I dare say.”
Sir Emberly’s lip curled as he shifted in the saddle. “You dare too much, Mortimer.”
His hand clenching around the handle of his weapon, Mortimer grit his teeth. That old bucket of toads knew he was better with a sword than most knights! “I am the best fighter you have. Why do you not present me to the King for knighthood?”
“You may be good with a sword and a horse, but are you a leader of men?” Sir Emberly leaned over his saddle and nodded his head at the other squires. Some nursed bruises while others shot Mortimer dark looks and promises of revenge. “Would they follow you into battle? Give their lives to protect yours? Believe in you above all others?”
Mortimer surveyed the rabble. Though he could call none in the group friend, he knew how to give orders. He knew how to fight. A leader didn’t need to be a friend; he only had to know how to get the job done.
“The answer is no.” Sir Emberly shook the reigns and his mount shlumped away.
The other squires snickered and turned from the field to follow Emberly. His heart racing, Mortimer imagined himself old and gray and still a lowly squire. He leaped over the fence and ran after them.
“What do I need to do, Sir, to become a knight who sits at your table? A page for three years, a squire for six! Am I to be a squire until I am too feeble to hold a sword, let alone fight? Challenge me, Sir Emberly, to any task! I am worthy.”
“You? Worthy?” Sir Emberly turned in the saddle, pushing his black hair from his face. He looked down his long hooked nose at Mortimer, and heaved a great sigh. It was so quiet Mortimer could hear the creak of the leather saddle beneath the knight’s weight. Even the birds, with their inane chatter, were still.
The squires stopped to hear the task Mortimer would be given.
“I challenge you then, Mortimer, as you have begged to be challenged.” Sir Emberly lowered his voice and the squires closed in to hear his gravelly whisper.
“The Olde Kings of Bradigan would not dine until one of his men, who had gone out into the world, returned to tell the tale of a wonder. And I will not promote you until you have done the same.”
The men roared with laughter. To find a wonder would take a lifetime. Mortimer’s cheeks flushed red-hot as he glared at the rabble-rousers, but he puffed his chest out proudly. If any squire could find a wonder it was him.
Sir Emberly raised his hand and the squire’s laughter turned into loud, speculative whispers. “But you have to do one better. You must bring the wonder back to me in five days.”
Mortimer’s mouth dropped open. “Bring it back to you? No one has ever brought one back!”
Tossing his head, Sir Emberly laughed. It was a cruel and sarcastic sound. “You are the best squire I’ve got; surely it won’t be a problem. Five days, Mortimer, that’s all you have. Now, go procure for me a wonder—the sight of which no one has ever seen before.”
Sir Emberly turned his back on Mortimer and pressed his horse into a canter, headed for the stone stronghold beyond the hill.
Mortimer seethed at the retreating back of his liege. He pushed through the crowd of men. His blood pounded in his ears. Pointing at Sir Emberly’s retreating form Mortimer yelled, “Mark my words, Sir Emberly. I will find you a wonder! And then you will have run out of excuses to make me a knight!”