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Authors: Marguerite De Angeli

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BOOK: The Door in the Wall
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“Aw, no fair!” cried Denis one day. “You can go twice as fast as we can on those seven-league boots of yours.” Robin only laughed and played the harder.

Many times a day he went in and out the castle gate, and he had already made friends with Alan-at-Gate. Alan was a gruff old fellow, for he was long hours in attendance on duty and was responsible for the safety of all within the castle. He challenged everyone who passed, whether going in or coming out, demanding to know his business. Robin soon learned that Alan-at-Gate had a soft side as well as a rough one. Once, when he had come on Alan unawares, he heard him playing the flageolet. Robin told him about the Saxon harp he was making. Robin discovered, too, that Alan liked sweets, so he kept a good supply of honey cakes in his pocket for largess. He was allowed to come and go through the gate whenever he liked, with D’Ath at his heels.

“Now that the castle is well known to thee, and thou’rt well started on making the harp, it is time for me to visit my old mother,” said John-go-in-the-Wynd to Robin. “Dost know how to go on with the harp?”

“Yes, I am sure I do,” Robin answered. “It is a secret I wish to keep, and if I need help, Brother Luke can give it me. William Wise the Farrier is making the tool of hardened iron, as you asked him to do. I shall be careful to make the holes and the pegs for the strings to fit. Let me see once more how they go and how many there are.”

John showed Robin the graceful instrument and how the seven strings were fastened with tiny pegs in the maple sounding board which covered the hollow oval base. He showed him how they were drawn tightly to the upper arm of the harp by wooden keys which just fitted the tapered holes tightly enough so they stayed whichever way they were turned.

“ ’Twill not be easy to get the keys exactly like the holes,” he cautioned.

“No,” said Robin, “but I can do it. I know I can.”

“Thou canst but try,” said John. “Anyone can
not
do it.”

Robin went with John across the courtyard to the outer gate.

“Dost know where to find me in case of need?” asked John.

“Yes,” said Robin, mimicking the way John had told it to him. “ ‘ ’Tis over the path beyond the river, across yon field, and through the forest, then fording the stream and up another field, through another wood, and ’tis just there this side of the church in the village of Tripheath. A tidy bit of a house on the heath where she lives with her cat, and if thou’rt there, she’d bake thee a bannock.”

John laughed.

“That’s the right of it,” he agreed. “And now, farewell, young master.”

John slung his pack and the harp across his back and was gone.

Early that same day mists began to rise, which later became a thick fog. Little could be seen from watchtower or wall but a blank whiteness covering everything. Even the outer walls of the castle were hidden from the watchman at the top of the keep. When Robin crossed the outer bailey, going from the workshop along the wall to the inner castle gate, he could see only a few steps ahead. Sometimes he could scarcely see D’Ath, who was close at his heels. Sometimes heads appeared out of nowhere, or legs walked along as if they were unattached. When Robin reached the drawbridge and started to cross, Alan-at-Gate’s voice shouted the challenge. Even though the voice was familiar, it sounded
ghostlike and strange to Robin as it came out of the fog.

“Who goes there?”
said the voice.

“ ’Tis I, Robin,” came the answer, as Robin crossed the moat and passed under the portcullis.

“This be a treacherous cloud of mist,” said Alan-at-Gate, as Robin entered.

“Will there be danger in it, think you?” asked Robin.

“Aye, danger enough,” said Alan gravely. “The Welsh, yonder, long have wanted this castle, for it be strong. Now, with fog to help, and so few to guard the walls, there is chance they might get it, God forbid.”

“If my father would only come with his men, it would be safe,” declared Robin. “He is the strongest knight in the King’s bodyguard, and Elfred the Dane is his finest bowman. Elfred can shoot out the eyes of an owl at two hundred paces.” While he boasted Robin’s eyes shone. “But,” he ended sadly, “neither Elfred nor my father is here.”

When supper was served in the Great Hall that evening there were few gathered to eat it, because every man was on guard, and only the womenfolk and the children kept Sir Peter company. The two pages, Denis and Lionel, attended them, and Robin, as usual, sat between Lady Constance and the two little boys.

D’Ath and the other hounds seemed ill at ease. They paced up and down the hall, settled themselves in the rushes on the floor, only to rise and begin walking about again.

“Down, D’Ath!” commanded Robin.

“Quiet, Roy! Be still, Nance!” Denis ordered.

They dropped to the floor for a moment, but were soon moving about again. Not even the bones kept them quiet for more than a short time.

Lady Constance talked pleasantly with her ladies, but
Sir Peter seemed to be always listening. While they were still at table there was a sudden commotion. Shouts and cries from the inner ward came up through the windows and a sound of running feet pounding along the passage. Sir Peter started from his chair.

Adam the Yeoman came bursting into the Hall, so hurried with ill news that he scarcely stopped to bob his head before speaking.

“Your Lordship,” he began, out of breath, “we are attacked. The Welsh are hammering at the town gate. They have slain the watch by creeping close to the wall in the fog. They waited for him to turn, then put an arrow in his back.”

“ ’Tis come, then,” said Sir Peter, reaching for the great sword which hung on the wall. “What strength are they? Is it known?”

“It is hard to say,” said Adam. “They make a great noise about the walls, but nought can be seen for the fog. They have built fires under the south gate and flambeaux glow on all sides, so I fear we are surrounded.”

“Gather every man not armed into the inner bailey, where they will be provided with longbows and arrows,” directed Sir Peter. To Lady Constance he said, “You, my dear wife, gather all the women and children into the keep. Have them bring clothing and pallets. There, at least, we have water in the well and ’tis a strong fortress.”

“Yes, my husband,” Lady Constance said obediently, rising and gathering the children to her, while her ladies hastily collected embroidery frames, cloaks, and fripperies. The two pages, Denis and Lionel, carried the food from the table, then took the table boards from the trestles and transferred everything to the hall of the keep. The keep was close to the gatehouse between the inner and outer ward, so there was great excitement in the courtyard.

“What can I do?” asked Robin.

“Will you care for the little boys?” asked Lady Constance. “Little Alison shall come with us.”

“Yes,” promised Robin. “Each can hold to my jerkin, so we shall keep together among the yeomen.”

When the boys had been safely delivered to the keep, Robin remembered the little harp which lay unfinished in the workshop under the south wall. He must get it and keep it safe, too.

Before morning the walls of the town had been breached, and before the day was out the town was taken. When the portcullis of the outer bailey of the castle was raised to admit the yeomen, the townspeople swarmed in. Alan-at-Gate directed the dropping of the heavy iron gate, and it came down so quickly that the last man to enter narrowly missed having his head chopped off.

T
HE FOG
held for days. The Welsh could not get beyond the outer wall of the castle, and the English inside could not tell what strength the enemy possessed. They might be encamped on the surrounding hills, or they might be only a small company. Several of the guards on the wall had been injured, and sometimes the yeomen could tell that an arrow had struck home in the enemy’s camp. Most of the time there was only watchful waiting on both sides. The Welsh had a machine for catapulting stones, most of which thudded harmlessly into the courtyard. Sometimes one struck the inner wall, but most of them fell short, dropping into the moat.

Inside the keep women occupied themselves with spinning, weaving, and embroidery. It helped the time to pass more quickly. The children played with toy soldiers and blocks, with hobbyhorses and with dolls. Sometimes Robin told them tales, or sang songs, but he spent most of the time in the chamber where he slept, working on the Saxon harp.

William Wise had set up a workbench for him and had finished the tool of hardened iron. There was a small lathe for turning the keys and a vise all arranged so that Robin could sit on a stool to reach them. The tool for making the holes was sharp, so that part was not difficult.

Just as John-go-in-the-Wynd had said, it was harder
to turn the keys on the lathe so they would fit exactly. They were either too large and would not go in, or, when they had been turned smaller, they were too small and would not hold the strings in tune.

But Robin was learning patience. He had found out that the harder it was to do something, the more comfortable he felt after he had done it.

Sir Peter had stood all of one night on the bastion directing and encouraging the men. They had managed to drive off a raiding party that was trying to scale the wall. Now he was in bed with a chill, and Lady Constance waited upon him.

The food in the larder dwindled, and there were many people to be fed. Besides the garrison and the household there were the yeomen from the town and those who had sought refuge when the portcullis was raised.

Usually there was a good supply of salt fish kept in barrels, but fish had not been plentiful the past summer, so now the supply was meager. There was mutton, to be sure, but it was all on four legs and scattered over the downs beyond the castle and town. The winter kill had not taken place because they waited for freezing weather. There was flour to last for a short time, but the yearly portion from the peasants’ holdings was to have been brought to the castle the following week. Besides, there had been a small crop of grain because of the summer’s drought.

Then the water began to fail. As Robin came into the Hall at suppertime he passed the table where the retainers sat. Denis leaned to whisper in the ear of Adam the Yeoman.

“There is scarce a foot of water in the well,” he whispered. “just now as I drew it to fill this ewer the cook told me.”

“How came this?” asked Adam. “ ’Tis known that this
is a good well. Tell not her ladyship, and send the word around that the water must be used sparingly, or ’twill not last the week out, even for drinking.” He thought a moment, then said,

“Someone must go for help, or we shall be forced to surrender the castle. It might be that Sir Hugh Fitzhugh would come to our aid, for he, too, is in danger from the Welsh if they break our defense. But whom shall we spare? All are needed at their posts.”

“Let me go,” said Robin. “I can go out the small door at the north whilst it is early morning. No one will suspect me. They think me a poor shepherd. I shall borrow a smock from William the Farrier’s son, and if I am seen, I shall appear stupid. We shall keep it secret, for if Sir Peter were to find out my plan he would forbid me to go, not knowing how strong I am.”

“But thou’rt only a lad!” Adam objected, “and art cumbered with crutches as well. And how wilt thou cross the river? The bridge is well guarded at both ends.”

“I shall go well, never fear,” Robin assured them confidently. “I have it all in my head how it shall be done. I shall find John-go-in-the-Wynd at his mother’s cottage in Tripheath village. John shall set forth from there for Sir Hugh and his men. Now, let us plan. First, I want you, Denis, to bring me the smock, and some rags to wrap about my legs. Then, see you, find me a hood that is worn and faded. Besides, I shall need long leather thongs to tie the crutches to my back, for I shall swim the river.”

“Fear you not the soldiery?” queried Denis anxiously. “Will you not fall down the steep bank? ’Tis a far distance to the bottom of the ravine, and—” He stopped suddenly, because one of the maids appeared.

“See to it,” said Robin with a quick nod.

BOOK: The Door in the Wall
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