Knight And His Squires

The bridge ropes creaked in the morning breeze as Sir Alden Rowan guided his horse toward the river.

Below, bright water hurried over smooth stones. The little bridge crossed from Alderwick’s green edge to the road beyond. It had carried carts, goats, and many travelers, but today its wooden boards looked pale and worn.

“Easy there,” Sir Alden said, patting his horse’s warm neck. “We will be across before the sun climbs high.”

Behind him, two squires checked the traveling wagon. Tessa tightened the straps around a bundle of blankets, while Milo tucked a sack of apples beneath the seat.

“Are the bread loaves safe?” Sir Alden asked.

“Safe and snug,” Tessa called.

“And the cooking pot?”

“Snug and safe,” Milo replied. “Though I think it is taking up more room than I am.”

Sir Alden smiled. The wagon held their food, blankets, spare clothes, and a small wooden chest of tools. Their journey had begun only moments ago, yet the road already felt full of promise. Alderwick’s bell rang behind them, and the smell of warm bread drifted from the village bakery.

Then the wagon gave a loud bump.

Milo jumped down. “The left wheel is rubbing the bridge rail.”

Sir Alden turned his horse. The wagon stood at the bridge entrance, one wheel close to the edge. Tessa held the reins while Milo pushed against the side.

“Stop pushing,” Sir Alden said gently. “Let us look first.”

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....