The Warning Bells Of Camelot Essay
In the palace, there was panic, as armed men rushed down the halls.
"The prince! The prince is gone!" someone cried, and the words were echoed, the news spreading.
"The prince! We must find the prince!"
But it was too late. There was no trace of the little prince, or of those who had taken him.
Celyn had been making his way back to his camp when he came upon the bandits. Seeing the light of their campfire, he stopped short, hidden in the trees.
He was just about to turn and make for the camp by another way – he had no interest in a confrontation with bandits – when he heard it: a small whimper.
"Shut that kid up, will you," One of the bandits snarled.
Celyn peered through the trees. He could see the bandits sitting in a ring around a campfire, and next to one of them, a very small figure.
"Home!" the small voice piped up insistently.
The bandit next to him laughed roughly.
"Don 't you fret, little one," he cooed in a mocking tone, "You 'll go home. As soon as your father pays the ransom."
"Or not," one of the other men laughed, "Why risk bringing the boy back and walking straight into a trap? If we sell him we can add to the profits we get from his ransom."
Celyn hesitated just for a moment, but he knew he couldn 't just walk away. So he took a deep breath and stepped out of the trees and into the clearing.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he smiled, "I hope you 're all doing well.
In an instant, every man was on…