Walter must have boasted about it to everyone he met on the way back to Blackstone Fort. I know this because at lunchtime on Tuesday a troupe of travelling players in a big covered wagon called at the castle.“Good day, young master!” said the troupe leader, with an elaborate bow. “Perkin’s the name, entertainment’s the game! Can I interest you in our play?” “Sure!” I said. “What are you doing? Saint George and the Dragon?” “Nah,” said Perkin. “We’re working on a brand-new play. We met a chap on the road who told us about a joust between his master and some useless knight called Sir Percy. Here, take a look.”He handed me a piece of parchment. “Right,” I frowned. “I’m not interested, thanks.”“Ah well, suit yourself,” said Perkin. “We’re staying at the Boar’s Bottom if you change your mind.”“I won’t,” I said. “But thanks, anyway.” By teatime I was starting to get really worried.
