by K. C. Herbel
Don Miguel looked up at Sir Hugh and said, “Oh, yes. I am in agree.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Of course, I have seen better in the court of my king, in Hispania, but it was . . . most surprising. I did not know I was in the company of such comedic talent.” With that he scooped up the apple at his feet and tossed it at Billy.
“Thank you,” said Billy as he caught the apple. “I could show you how to do those tricks, if ya like!”
“No. I do no toss apples.”
“Oh. Well, maybe you could teach me some songs on the lute then.”
“Perhaps.”
Billy put the apples on the table and was about to sit down again when Lady Myrredith spoke.
“William,” she said, “perhaps you would sing for us now? . . . Don Miguel?”
“Yes, Your Ladyship?”
“Would you be so kind as to loan William your lute?”
“Well, I . . . I would be happy to accompany him.”
“I would like to hear William play.”
“Aye!” spouted several of the caravan guards in unison.
“Yes, indeed,” added Sir Hugh.
“Well . . . it is no a toy for a-a-a juggler, Your Ladyship.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, Don Miguel. I have all confidence in William’s ability to play the lute.”
“Well,” grumbled Scarosa, “then of course . . .”
Billy strode to the bowing troubadour and carefully arrested the lute from his hands. He took a false step as if to stumble into a pratfall but stopped abruptly and glanced back at Don Miguel’s gaping expression.
“Don’t worry,” he said with an impish smile, “I won’t break it.”
Don Miguel Medina Scarosa was a dark man, and an even darker one as he blushed. He felt the heat in his ears as the blood rushed to his face. He crossed his arms and turned away from the laughing crowd. There he pouted and stared into the fire pit. A moment later, he snapped his fingers at a servant who brought him a new tankard of ale. He snatched the drink from the tray and prodded the servant away.
A few moments lapsed before the snickers died down and the hall fell silent.
Lady Myrredith cleared her voice. “Well then, William, let us hear some light, happy music.”
Billy began to strum a light, soothing melody on the lute. His style was not as refined or elaborate as Don Miguel’s, but its light-handed simplicity appealed to all those who heard it, putting them at ease. It was at this point that Billy wove the pure, sweet sound of his voice into the song.
There was a wee lad from the Valley O’ the Yew
He wished to be knightly with good deeds to do
Rescue a princess
Defend what is true
But what’s a poor lad from the valley to do?
There was a wee lad from the Valley O’ the Yew
He wished he could see how the courtly folk do
Dining with princes
With forks and knives too
But what’s a poor lad from the valley to do?
He dreamt every day by the light of the sun
He wished on the stars when the day’s work was done
There was a wee lad from the Valley O’ the Yew
He met some new friends who were noble and true
They offered him friendship
And kindness beside
And as they were leaving they offered a ride
So what was the lad from the valley to do?
Stay at home with the chickens and not much to do?
There was a wee lad from the Valley O’ the Yew
He met with a dragon and thought he was through
Along came a hero
A brave knight was he
And he saved the wee lad who now sings gleefully
And he’ll sing gleefully when his comrades feel poor
And he’ll sing gleefully till he can sing no more
Billy played late into the night to the delight of all but Don Miguel Medina Scarosa. The Spaniard brooded throughout the evening over the same bowl of soup and then skulked away to his chamber.
Billy, tired from the long journey and all the excitement, gave in to the demands of his body and asked if he might be shown to a bed. Lady Myrredith, Sir Aonghas, and their guests were likewise tired, and all decided to retire as well.
“Come,” said Lady Myrredith as she took Billy by the hand. “I’ll show you to your room.”
They followed the chamberlain as he picked up a lamp and led them up large spiraling steps and into a long hallway with dark vaulted ceilings. Tapestries adorned the walls between a dozen oak doors that lined either side. Their footsteps reverberated in the hallway as they walked towards the far end. At that end of the corridor stood a large double door lit by a torch on each side. The guard stationed beside the door came to attention as they approached.
“That,” said Her Ladyship, pointing to the double doors, “is where I sleep.”
The gaunt chamberlain stopped at the door immediately to the right side of the passage. He falteringly inserted a key in the lock and then looked to his mistress. His old eyes sparkled in the dim light, probing Lady Myrredith for assurance.
“What is it, Eadwig?” asked the mistress of Cyndyn Hall.
“Well, Your Ladyship . . .” he said hesitantly.
“Is the room not ready?”
“No, Your Ladyship. It has been prepared as you requested.”
“Then proceed.”
The loyal retainer nodded and unlocked the door with a clank. He grunted, and the door creaked open. A sudden draft caused the lamp to sputter and go out.
Eadwig took a splint and lit it in the nearby torch. “Detestable, drafty . . .” he mumbled as he lit the lamp.
Billy squinted his tired eyes and looked about as Eadwig brought the dim lamp into the room. Billy could make out a large room, about the size of the commons room in his father’s inn. There was a small fireplace in one wall and a huge bed in the middle of the opposite wall, with a bearskin draped across it. Like in the great hall, the ceiling was high and dark, and each wall was draped with a tapestry, the pattern of which he couldn’t discern. The air was thick and musty, reminding Billy of a cellar.
“This was once my brother’s room,” said Lady Myrredith, barely louder than a whisper.
Billy looked at his host. Her face was grave as she stared at the bed.
“Your brother?” said Billy.
Lady Myrredith gazed at Billy and then blinked as if shaking off a spell. “Yes,” she said at last. “This room hasn’t been used since . . . Well, for many years.”
Billy spied Eadwig also staring sadly at the vacant bed. The old chamberlain suddenly sprung into action when he realized he was being watched. He lit some candles then quickly turned down the bed.
“This room is all for me?”
“Yes, William,” said Lady Myrredith with a smile. “Have a good night, William. Sleep well. I’ll see you on the morrow.” With that, Lady Myrredith turned and went out the door, followed by Eadwig.
“G’night, milady. G’night, Eadwig.”
Eadwig turned to Billy with his hand on the door. “Good night . . . young sir.” He stared at Billy momentarily then backed out of the room, softly closing the door behind him.
As the door closed, Billy felt the same inhospitable draft. It gave him a slight chill so he promptly got into his nightshirt and then into bed. It felt good to lie down on the big soft bed, under the thick covers. Billy felt very content, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. It had been a great day, and now he was ready for a good night’s sleep. He closed his eyes and soon dreamt of castles with dragons, and maidens in need of rescue.
In the night, Billy woke with a chill. He opened his eyes to find the candles burned out and the room dark. He turned over and pulled the covers up under his chin, but the chill would not leave him. He felt for the covers. From his chin to his feet, all the bedclothes seemed to be in place.
At that moment, he saw two eyes staring out
of the darkness. Billy sat up, rubbing and blinking his tired eyes. “Lady Myrredith?” he said. He looked back to the foot of the bed, trying to focus, but the eyes were gone. He scanned the room. There was nothing out of place. Slowly he lay back on the bed. As his head hit the pillow, he heard a low thump. Instantly he sat up again, surveying all the corners of the room.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
Billy was very still. He listened for a response—for a sound. He heard nothing.
“Who’s there?” he repeated less confidently.
There was no answer.
Billy sat in bed for a long while with his feet and covers gathered around him. Finally fatigue started to seduce him back to sleep.
“Ha!” he yawned. “Spooked by a shadow.”
The chill had left Billy, so he fell back on the bed, pulled the covers up snugly, and went back to sleep.
The next morning Billy awoke to a light rapping sound. He opened his eyes and looked about him. It was still dark in his room, and at first he did not remember where he was, but then the bearskin tickled his nose and it all came back.
The rapping sound came again.
“Hello, sir. Are you . . . up, sir?”
Billy hopped out of bed and went across the cold stone floor to the door. He pulled the door open with a squeak.
“Good morrow, sir,” said the serving girl, twisting a braid of mousy brown hair. Her eyes were on the floor. “I was sent to fetch ya for the mornin’ meal.”
Billy, still in his nightshirt, rubbed his eyes and stretched. The girl’s eyes came up to Billy’s, and he smiled at her. Her bright eyes smiled back, and then she shyly turned her face away with a girlish giggle.
Billy, suddenly aware that he stood in front of a girl wearing nothing but his nightshirt, quickly hid behind the door. “I’ll get dressed” was all he could come up with.
Billy quickly slipped into his clothes and out his door to join the serving girl in the hall. Without a word she turned and started to lead Billy away. Billy walked quickly to keep up, always just behind her shoulder. He watched her face for any sign that she was going to talk to him. Billy found her looks appealing and so took little notice of where she was taking him. After several turns and two short staircases, it became apparent that she was not going to speak on her own.
“What’s your name?” asked Billy.
“Beth, sir.”
They were silent for a few more steps.
“My name’s Billy.”
“Yes, I know, sir.”
Silence again . . .
“Where’s breakfast?”
“Her Ladyship has taken breakfast in the garden, sir.”
“Please don’t call me sir. It makes me . . . nervous.”
“Yes . . . Good morrow, Lady Myrredith.”
Billy looked up to see that they were entering a large courtyard with numerous fruit trees and flowers. Lady Myrredith sat at a table under the shade of a plum tree. There was a short, roly-poly woman serving her water. Beth stepped aside for Billy to pass and started to leave.
“Thank you, Beth,” said Billy.
“You’re welcome, sir,” said the blushing serving girl through the door. She gave him a slight curtsy and then quickly disappeared.
“Well, I see you’re already breaking hearts, William,” said Lady Myrredith.
Billy turned around to face her. “What?” he said blankly.
Lady Myrredith broke into the most delightful laughter. It sounded like birds singing and made him smile.
“What is it, milady?” he asked.
“Nothing, William,” said the broadly smiling lady. “Come and eat your breakfast.”
Lady Myrredith and William ate their breakfast in the quiet garden, stopping occasionally to comment on the beautiful morning. They were just finishing when Don Miguel entered.
Upon sighting the Spaniard, Lady Myrredith rolled her eyes and sighed. Don Miguel was not aware that Her Ladyship was watching him. He plucked a rose from the garden and sniffed it. A wide sickening grin spread itself across his dark face as he sighted the breakfasting lady.
“I had hoped to avoid that pompous peacock this morning.”
Billy looked over his shoulder to see this “peacock” of Lady Myrredith’s. He spotted Scarosa then looked back to his host. “What’s a peacock?” whispered Billy.
Lady Myrredith said nothing as the troubadour approached.
“Your Ladyship!” said Scarosa, making a grandiose, well-rehearsed bow. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you this fine morning.”
He held out his hand and offered the rose to Lady Myrredith. She took the flower wearily, and Don Miguel snapped to an aloof, erect posture, looking much like a post.
“A rose for a rose,” he hissed.
Lady Myrredith looked at the rose briefly and then tossed it aside on the table.
“Do you no care for the rose, milady?” asked Don Miguel, obviously hurt.
“Quite the contrary. I care for my roses very much. In fact, I planted them in this garden just so I might enjoy them blooming on the bushes, while I eat my breakfast.”
“I see,” mumbled Don Miguel, stroking his mustache. “Well, perhaps you would allow me to join you?”
“Of course. Have a seat, Don Miguel.”
“You are most gracious, milady,” said the Spaniard.
As he sat down, Lady Myrredith rose. “William and I were just leaving,” she said.
Billy and Don Miguel both rose with her. She started for the door.
“Come along, William. We have a great deal of exploring to do today.”
“Yes, milady!” said Billy as he filed in behind her. Passing through the door into the castle, he looked back into the garden and shouted, “G’morrow, Don Miguel!” He waited a moment for a response, but none was forthcoming.
Lady Myrredith stepped through a small wooden framed door and down a narrow, curving corridor. Billy followed like a stray dog on the heels of a new master. Suddenly she stopped in the middle of the hall and looked in both directions. Billy, without knowing why, also looked about him. There was no one and nothing in sight, except for the blank stone walls of the passageway.
Her Ladyship bent down and whispered in Billy’s ear. “No one knows about this passage. Not even the servants or my husband!”
Billy looked around him again. He was very puzzled. “What? This passage?”
Lady Myrredith smiled. “No, not this passage. This passage!”
With that said, she pushed on two small stones in the wall, and a passageway opened directly before them. Chill, dank-smelling air caressed Billy’s face and tickled its way down his neck. His eyes and mouth popped open. Lady Myrredith placed a hand over his mouth and shushed him. There was a shuffling sound from down the corridor.
“Quickly!” whispered Billy’s host as she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the secret passage.
The rock wall closed behind them, and suddenly all was very dark. Billy stumbled several times, but the gentle grip of his guide never faltered as she led him further into the winding passageway and up a small spiraling staircase. After a moment his eyes adjusted, and he could make out the outline of Lady Myrredith in front of him.
Finally they stopped climbing. There was a clank, and Billy saw a small sliver of light appear in the darkness in front of him. Its brightness nearly blinded him. He turned his head and squinted, but in the growing light he could see Lady Myrredith’s silhouette. The golden light adorned her angelic beauty and lit up her fiery hair like a halo.
Suddenly the light revealed a dark demonic face just behind Billy’s companion. It bared its horrible little fangs, as if to bite the lady. Billy screamed and, grabbing Lady Myrredith’s hand, ran through the strip of light, which had widened into a door. Billy looked over his shoulder as they cleared the opening. He could see nothing following them.
“What is it?” asked Lady Myrredith.
“A demon!” Billy answered as he pulled her along.
> The Lady of Cyndyn Hall stopped running and started to laugh uncontrollably.
“Come, milady!” shouted Billy, as he frantically waved for her to follow.
Her Ladyship was beside herself. She was trying to stop laughing, but every time she looked at Billy’s face, she broke out in laughter again.
Billy looked again to the passage from which they had just escaped. There was still no sign of anything following. “Is this some kind of trick?” he wondered. He looked back to Lady Myrredith, who was beginning to collect herself.
“What was it you saw, William?” she said with a great deal of mirth.
“A demon! I think.”
Lady Myrredith giggled and motioned William to come to her. Cautiously he approached. She gently took his hand and led him back to the doorway. At first Billy resisted, but one reassuring smile from Her Ladyship and he went willingly.
“There is your demon, William,” said Lady Myrredith pointing into the doorway.
Billy looked, and just inside the opening he could see what had frightened him so: a demonic creature about his size, with wings and curved claws, carved out of stone. It was frightfully realistic, and even though Billy could now see that it was stonework, it made him uneasy.
“What’s that?” he exclaimed.
“That . . . is a gargoyle. It’s supposed to frighten away evil spirits, not handsome young men!”
“Evil spirits? I think somebody must have got it wrong!”
“If only you could have seen the look on your face!” said Lady Myrredith with a giggle.