Knight And His Squires

They all leaned near the wheel. A small stone had lodged beneath it. Sir Alden slid it away with the end of his boot, and the wagon rolled straight again.

“There,” Tessa said. “A tiny stone made a great fuss.”

“A good reminder,” said Sir Alden. “Small things can matter.”

Milo climbed back onto the wagon seat. Sir Alden led his horse onto the bridge. The boards tapped beneath the horse’s hooves. The wagon followed with a soft rumble.

One step.

Then another.

The river sang below them. Sunlight flashed on the water, and a cool mist touched Sir Alden’s face. He could see the far road waiting beyond the bridge. It curved past a field of yellow flowers and led toward the first town on their map.

A sharp crack split the morning.

Sir Alden stopped at once.

The board beneath his horse’s front hoof bent down. The horse lifted its head and gave a nervous snort. Behind him, the wagon rocked.

“Tessa, hold the wagon!” Sir Alden called.

“I have it!”

“Milo, stay seated.”

“I am seated!” Milo squeaked.

Another crack sounded, louder than the first. A long plank near the middle of the bridge broke in two. One half dropped into the river with a splash.

Sir Alden backed his horse toward the village side. “Slowly now. No rushing.”

The wagon wheel rolled toward the broken place. Tessa pulled the reins, but the wagon did not move back.

“It is stuck!” she cried.

Sir Alden dismounted. The boards shook beneath his boots. He kept one hand on the horse’s bridle and reached for the wagon’s side with the other.

“Milo, climb down on the village side,” he said. “Keep low and move carefully.”

Milo looked at the gap. Water sparkled through it.

“I do not like that hole,” he whispered.

“Neither do I,” Sir Alden said. “You do not have to like it. Just take one small step at a time. Tessa will help you.”

Tessa leaned across the seat. “Put your hand in mine.”

Milo took her hand. He stepped down, then another step, until his boots touched a firm board near the edge.

The bridge gave a low groan.

“Back to the village side,” Sir Alden said. “Now, but gently.”

Tessa tugged the wagon reins. Milo pushed from behind. Sir Alden lifted the wagon handle and pulled with all his strength. The wheel moved a finger’s width, then stopped.

“We need another idea,” Tessa said.

Sir Alden looked at the bridge. The broken board had caught the wheel like a wooden hook. If they pulled harder, the wagon might tip. He looked at the river, then at the bank beside the bridge.

A narrow strip of grass ran from the bridge entrance to a flat patch of ground near the water. It was not a road, but it was wide enough for a horse.

“We will take the wagon back,” he said, “but we must turn it first.”

“Turn it?” Milo asked.

“Turn it toward the bank. The grass may hold the wheel.”

Tessa frowned. “The wagon is too heavy for just us.”

Sir Alden glanced at the horse. “Not just us.”

He unhitched the horse from the wagon and led it around to the front. Then he tied a strong rope from the wagon tongue to the harness.

“Tessa, guide the left wheel,” he said. “Milo, place these flat stones beneath the right wheel. They will help it climb over the board.”

Milo gathered the stones from the bridge entrance. His hands grew dusty, and one stone slipped into the grass.

“I cannot find it,” he said.

Tessa pointed. “Beside your boot.”

Milo picked it up. “Oh.”

Sir Alden crouched beside him. “You were looking too far away. When a thing is lost, start close.”

Milo nodded and placed the stone beneath the wheel.

“Ready?” Sir Alden asked.

Tessa held the wagon straight. Milo stood clear of the wheel. Sir Alden called softly to the horse, and the animal leaned into the harness.

The rope tightened.

The wagon creaked.

For one moment, nothing happened.

“Try together,” Sir Alden said. “On three. One, two, three!”

Tessa pulled the reins. Milo pushed the wagon’s side. Sir Alden guided the horse toward the grass.

The wheel bumped over the flat stones and rolled free.

“Again!” called Tessa.

The horse stepped forward. The wagon turned inch by inch. Its back wheel passed the broken plank, and the whole wagon slid onto the grassy bank.

Milo let out a happy laugh. “It moved!”

“It did,” said Sir Alden. “Because everyone had a part.”

The bridge groaned again.

Sir Alden looked back. A line ran across three more boards. The bridge was not ready to carry them, even for one more step.

“Off the bridge,” he said.

They led the horse and wagon onto firm ground. Tessa climbed down and checked the wagon straps. Milo checked the apples, then the blankets, then the cooking pot.

“The pot is still snug,” he announced.

“Good,” said Tessa. “I would hate to cook breakfast in a basket.”

Sir Alden walked to the riverbank. The planned road waited on the far side, but the bridge stood between them and it. A few boards had fallen into the water, and the current carried them downstream.

“We cannot cross here,” he said.

Milo sat on a flat stone. “Does that mean our journey is over?”

“No,” Sir Alden replied. “It means the road has offered us a different beginning.”

Tessa studied the river. “There may be another crossing.”

Sir Alden remembered an old map tucked inside his saddlebag. It showed a ford farther north, near a stand of willow trees. He opened the map, but the morning breeze lifted one corner and folded it over.

“Here,” he said, smoothing it down. “The Willow Ford.”

“How far?” Milo asked.

“Not far. But the wagon must travel along the riverbank to reach it.”

Tessa glanced at the sun. “We planned to reach Greenhill by midday.”

Sir Alden followed her gaze. The sun had already climbed higher than he wished.

“We will not reach Greenhill by midday,” he said. “We have lost time.”

Milo’s shoulders drooped.

Sir Alden folded the map. “But we have not lost our way. We will find the ford, cross safely, and rest when we can.”

They set off beside the river. The grass brushed against Sir Alden’s boots, wet with dew. The wagon wheels bumped over roots and small stones. Tessa walked beside the left wheel, watching for soft ground. Milo walked on the other side, holding a long branch to move tall grass from the path.

“Look!” Milo cried after a while. “Willows!”

A group of trees leaned over the river ahead, their thin branches trailing like green ribbons. Between them lay a broad, shallow stretch of water. Smooth stones made a path from one bank to the other.

Sir Alden dismounted and stepped into the river. Cool water curled around his boots. He tested each stone before placing his weight on it.

“This crossing is safe for the horse,” he said. “We will take the wagon slowly.”

Tessa held the horse’s bridle. Milo stood beside the wagon tongue.

“Same team?” Tessa asked.

“Same team,” said Sir Alden.

They moved into the water. The river splashed around the wheels. The horse took careful steps, and Tessa spoke in a calm, steady voice. Milo pushed when the wagon slowed. Sir Alden guided the front wheel toward the next flat stone.

Halfway across, the wagon tilted.

Milo gripped the side. “It is leaning!”

“Push from your side,” Sir Alden said.

Tessa pulled the horse gently forward. “One step, boy. One step.”

Milo pushed. Sir Alden lifted the wagon tongue. The wheel settled onto a firm stone, and the wagon straightened.

“Together,” Sir Alden said.

They crossed the rest of the ford and climbed onto the far bank. Water dripped from their boots and wheels. The horse shook itself, sprinkling them with bright drops.

Milo wiped his cheek. “The horse thinks we need a bath.”

Tessa laughed. Sir Alden laughed too.

Beyond the willows, the road split into two paths. The left path led toward Greenhill, but a fallen sign showed that it was closed for repairs. The right path curved toward Brambleford, a town they had not planned to visit.

Sir Alden looked at the map, then at his tired horse and damp squires.

“We will take the road to Brambleford,” he said. “It is not our planned route, but it is a good road.”

“Will we still get there today?” Milo asked.

“Not today,” said Sir Alden. “We will camp near the town and begin fresh in the morning.”

Tessa tucked the map safely away. “Then Brambleford it is.”

The wagon rolled along the new road, leaving the broken bridge behind. Sir Alden glanced back once. The river shone peacefully, and the willow branches swayed above the ford.

They had reached the other side, but their journey had changed before breakfast.

At sunset, they would find a warm place to rest, dry their boots, and share the last of the bakery bread. For now, Sir Alden rode at the front, with Tessa and Milo beside the wagon, learning that a changed road could still lead to a good place.

When a problem blocks the road, kindness and teamwork can help everyone find another way.

End of chapter one. 24 more chapters in the full book.