The Wreck of the Zanzibar by Michael Morpurgo
When I looked back there were gulls circling above him. Some had landed on his back, and one on his head. Catherine was running at them, waving her hands and shouting. ‘Shoo!’ she cried. ‘Shoo!’ They flew off, protesting; and Catherine caught us up.
‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter, does it?’ she said. ‘They can’t eat him, can they? Marzipan’s made of wood, isn’t he?’
‘Zanzibar,’ I said. ‘He’s called Zanzibar.’
‘That’s what I said,’ she replied, and skipped off after the others.
The magic of King Arthur continues...
THE SLEEPING SWORD
I felt all around me. On every side there were earth walls. In a panic, I groped above me for the hole I must have fallen through. I tried again and again to haul myself up, but the soil roof kept giving way and falling in on me. I must have been aware of the rumble of the tractor, but only now did I realise that it was too close and coming closer, that it was heading straight for me.
Bun Bendle stumbles one day into an underground tomb containing a shield and a beautiful, ancient sword. As he touches the hilt, his whole body is gripped by an incredible, centuries-old power. It is a power that will change Bun’s life for ever.
MICHAEL MORPURGO
The master storyteller
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Michael Morpurgo, The Wreck of the Zanzibar