The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  For Billy knew no limit to mischief, and practical jokes were his specialty. Turning wall maps and pictures upside down, putting snow down the backs of girls, coating the drawer handles of the schoolmaster's desk with syrup, composing fake love letters to Mr. Broadweed from the girls—whatever would be sure to cause a stir. Billy once even filled Mr. Broadweed's water pitcher with tadpoles. Yet, Broadweed did not think himself especially singled out, for Billy teased and taunted all equally and ceaselessly, and more than once Billy sported a black eye as a schoolyard reward for his antics. Yet all his rambunctious ways were with the greatest of mirth and never did he complain when he got as good as he gave, wearing his shiners with an exasperating pride. Twice Billy was expelled from the school when Mr. Broadweed could not take it any more. And twice Mr. and Mrs. Bosk pleaded with the schoolmaster to re-admit Billy, and both times Broadweed gave in. After all, the Bosk family was one of the oldest and most powerful in the region, and it would not be wise to cross them. Besides, Broadweed suspected that, in truth, they wanted Billy back in school because, for all their power and influence, they could not handle his mischief any better than anyone else. Just when Billy's behavior seemed to be leading to a third and—Mr. Broadweed hoped—final expulsion, a tremendous change came over the boy. No one ever knew what happened, but it occurred during the summer of Billy's fourteenth year and perplexed Mr. Broadweed so much that he made a special appointment to discuss it with Billy's parents. They, as it happened, were just as baffled as anyone. Whatever it was, his antics for the most part ceased, and he became a much more serious student, though of modest ability. Everyone was too relieved of the torment to be very concerned, though most thought it must have had something to do with Ibin, for it was from that time onward that Billy and Ibin became the oddest companions, fast friends, apparently, and nearly inseparable.

  A less likely pair of comrades one could hardly imagine: Billy, short, thin, and nimble, quick-witted and quick-tempered, of a famous and respected family, paired with Ibin, a hulking tree of a man, slow-minded, as patient as a rock, with hardly any family to speak of aside from his two elderly parents. After a few months, it was no surprise at all to see them both together; indeed, most thought it strange, now, if ever one was seen without the other. When Ibin's parents grew poorly in health, Billy finagled employment, of sorts, for Ibin at his family's estate, and even managed to have Ibin stay in the manor house. Ibin became part of the family, and when his parents died, Mr. and Mrs. Bosk thought nothing of allowing him to stay on with them permanently, for already Ibin and Billy were to each other the brothers that neither otherwise had.

  • • •

  On they went, until at last they made the iron gate of Ashlord's yard. Still puffing for air, the two went straight up to the door and Billy was about to bang on it when it flew open. Surprised, Billy stumbled backward into Ibin, for there was a man, looking so much like the one they had seen earlier, standing in the doorway before them, smoking a pipe and glaring at them. Except this one wore a green robe whereas the first wore a blue one.

  "You are trespassing. Go away!"

  "Just a dang minnit!" Billy stood forth again. "We're on business."

  "Then state your business before I have my servants seize you and send you ankles over elbows back down the hill much faster than the manner in which you came up it."

  "Are ye Ashlord? Our business is with him an' none other."

  "I am he, and what business would I have with two ruffians, pray tell?"

  "Ruffians!" Billy was indignant. "Ye've no call to address us in that manner, whatever our business might be. I'll have ye know I'm Billy Bosk, of Boskland, an' at me whim an army of Bosklanders could swarm over yer little hut an' level it to the ground! Ruffians! With good intentions we come, long an' hard in the way of it, only to be treated so! Now hear our business!"

  "I am listening," Ashlord replied calmly, leaning against the doorframe as he tamped his bowl with a twig.

  "Well," Billy said, standing with his hands on his hips, "a courier set out from Passdale four days ago bearin' letters for ye. When he didn't return, we got worried, for he is our good friend. Our business is to find him. Have ye seen him?"

  "If you mean Robigor Ribbon, the Younger," Ashlord replied, "I'll have you know he is a guest of the Hill, and he does not wish to be disturbed. Good day to you! Be off!"

  "Now hang on right thar!" Billy said, sticking his foot in the door as Ashlord was closing it. "What kind of guest d'ye mean? If Robby's all right, we'd like to see ourselves, if ye don't mind. Robby! Robby are ye in thar?"

  "Begone!" Ashlord said. As Billy tried to peer inside, Ashlord snapped his fingers in front of Billy's face with such a crack and flash of light that Billy stumbled backwards, stunned. Ashlord slammed the door.

  "Why, I'll be!" Billy said, fuming. "That whar some low trick! Ibin?"

  "Yeah, Billy?"

  "Do ye mind openin' that door for me? I think it's good an' stuck."

  Ibin pushed on it gently.

  "Yeah, Billy, it'sgood, it'sgood, it'sstuckgoodandtight."

  "Well, why don't ye get it unstuck for us?"

  "Alright."

  Ibin backed away a few steps and then charged the door like a bull, roaring somewhat like one, too, and Billy fell in right behind him. Just before they struck the door, it flung open, Ibin tripped and tumbled onto the floor of the interior, and Billy piled on top of him. To their bewilderment, Robby stood over them holding out a couple of tankards.

  "Care for a cool ale?" he said, grinning broadly.

  "What the blazes?" was all Billy could stammer out.

  "Robby!" Ibin jumped up excitedly, dumping Billy backwards onto the floor.

  Ashlord was sitting at the table, calmly puffing his pipe, barely able to contain his giggle. Upon seeing him, Billy was further embarrassed and angry.

  "What kind of trick is all this?"

  "Don't be mad at Mr. Ashlord," Robby cut in, shoving one of the tankards into Billy's hand and taking his other to lift him up onto his feet. "He was only looking after my interests, so to speak."

  "I needed to be sure of your loyalty to your friend. Most others would have given up and gone away," Ashlord said with a glint in his eye.

  "Hrumph! Could've just taken our word."

  Ashlord shrugged. Turning to Robby, Billy went on.

  "We've been worried sick about ye an', hey, what's that?" Billy looked closely at Robby's face and arms. "Ye look as though ye had a tussle with a panther!"

  "Well, I had a rough time getting out here," Robby said. "No panthers, thank goodness, but I ran into some trouble with some wolves and such."

  "Wolves!?" Ibin gasped. "Idon't, Idon't, Idon'tlikewolvesatall!"

  "If it hadn't been for Ashlord, I wouldn't be here to greet you."

  "So, why all the stuff at the door, then? An' what about that other feller back up at the Hill?"

  "Oh that was me," Ashlord said, and as they looked his robes became the dark blue they were before.

  "Huh? Ye mean to say ye made it all the way back here ahead of us?"

  "You went the long way."

  "Yeah, on account of yer directions," Billy glared. "Why didn't ye tell us right then an' thar that Robby was all right."

  "Because I didn't know if you were alone, for one," Ashlord said. "And, for another, you never asked."

  Billy looked askance at Robby. "What's he talkin' 'bout?"

  Sheila came in, nodding to Ashlord. Billy was surprised beyond words.

  "They are indeed alone, for now at least," she said putting up her bow. "But if I know his kin, there'll be a troop of Bosklanders out here before long."

  "Sheila Pradkin!" Billy exclaimed, finally finding his tongue.

  "HelloShe, HelloSheila!" Ibin said, grinning. "WecametoseeRobby."

  "Aren't you thirsty?" Robby, still grinning, goaded Billy who had not yet taken a sip, though Ibin was near halfway finished with his tankard. He added, a little more seriously, "You don't know how good it
is to see you two. To have two such good friends who would come all this way to look for me, well, I'm thankful for it!"

  "But what happened to ye? Why didn't ye go back to Passdale when the rain came?"

  "There is a lot of explaining to do," Ashlord said, standing up. "And time enough to do it in. But I wonder if you two would first like to clean up a bit, for the sake of my cottage, if not for your own?"

  Indeed, Billy and Ibin, covered with mud and grime, had now made a mess across Ashlord's neat floor, and for the first time the newcomers looked at themselves and at each other.

  "Here." Sheila handed each of them a blanket. "Go outside and take off your things. Wrap up in these and then go around back where there's water, soap and towels beside the well pump. Clean up, if you can, or you'll be scrubbing floors all night."

  In short order, Robby and Sheila had the newcomers stripped and washed, and soon they were back inside with refilled tankards, wrapped in warm blankets at the kitchen table.

  "No, you first," said Robby. "After all, you're the newest guest here. How did you know I was out here, anyway?"

  Ashlord, who had laid out some cheese and bread, moved off to the other fireplace on the far side of the room and sat down in his chair with his pipe.

  "Well," Billy said, taking a quick gulp of ale. "Mmmm! Late the mornin' ye left Passdale, Ibin an' me stopped by to see ye, to pick up a load of nails an' cloth an' such. Yer dad said ye'd gone out on some deliveries. Anyhow, we picked up our things an' went on, but not afore we ran into some folk an' got to talkin' an all, an' them folk said ye'd left with some stranger-type feller. A Kingsman is what Mr. Arbuckle, the bridge tender, said. If we warn't needin' to get back with our wagon, we'd been after ye right then, I can tell ye, just to find out more an' come along, don't ye know."

  Billy took another gulp of ale and wiped his mouth with his blanket.

  "So, anyways, we made it back to Boskland just when the sky fell out. Lo, what a rain! An' the more the night went on, the harder it fell. I was just gettin' a bit a shut-eye between thunders up in me bedroom when BOOM! the whole house shook an' the winders rattled. Nearly knocked me right out of of me bed. I thought it was just a close lightnin' bolt, but it didn't sound right. More like a great anvil got hit by some mountain-sized hammer, it did, with a eerie ringin' sound. Ibin was in his room across the hall from me, an' I heard him gettin' up out of bed when it happened all over. CLANG! That one got me up just as Ibin came bustin' in my door a-hollerin', 'The Dead Men er comin'! The Dead Men er comin'!' Course, I didn't know what Ibin was blitherin' 'bout. 'Oh, stop yer blubberin', will ye?' I told him, 'It's just wild storm, is all!' An' just then it happened again, BRA-A-A-ANG! an' knocked me down just as I was tryin' to put me slippers on. By this time, everbody was rushin' out into the hallways, an' the alarm went up all over Boskland. Ever' man an' boy come rushin' to the house. Pop was already outside lookin' off to the northward when I got out into the yard, an' already twenty men whar gathered 'round. Acted like he knew what the sound was, but he never said.

  " 'Well,' says Pop, 'since we're all up, an' it's still pourin', might as well check the line.' Me ol' man starts hollerin' out for his men. 'Tobin!' he hollers, that's the field foreman, 'Tobin! Send runners to the fields to check the floodin' an' riders up to the groves. Eddard!' that's the head foreman 'Eddard! Put riders on all the lines!' It was a good thing too, 'cause soon reports whar comin' in from all sides 'bout the streams swellin' up an' threatenin' to spill over our fields, an' roads gettin' full of mud. It warn't long afore we're all out in the fields diggin' an' fillin' bags of dirt, tryin' to stave off the water."

  Billy took another long gulp before continuing. "Come midmornin' next day, yer dad shows up at our place in the pourin' rain askin' after ye. What a storm! Our fields were floodin' for sure an' the creeks an' ditches spillin' out all over so as we had our hands purty full. Me mum came out to the fields with yer dad an' found us workin' thar, an' I knew as soon as I seen him that somethin' was bad, serious wrong. It's a wonder he made it at all out that far with all the roads flooded. Anyhow, that's when he told us whar he'd sent ye an' hoped to find ye with us. Said he tried to make out the way ye'd gone, but he couldn't find a crossin' at Weepingbrook, as it was all swollen an' the bridges were knocked away. I think he must've stopped at ever' single house in Barley he could get to 'til he finally made his way cross the county to Boskland. Oh, he was plumb wore out, cold an' wet an' all. But we got right at it, an' took six men an' horses an' set out on the Line Road toward Oldgate. We only got 'bout a mile off, though, when the sky truly fell. Woo! What a storm! Wasn't it, Ibin?"

  "Yeah, itwasareal, itwasareal, itwasarealbadstorm," Ibin agreed. "Scary."

  "A foot of water whar on the road, an' it was black as night. The thunder an' lightnin' scared us all, an' the horses none too calm, neither. We tried leadin' 'em by the reins, but when we got up to our waists in water, we had to turn back. Ibin an' me argued to keep goin', an' I think me ol' man would've kept on, too, but Mr. Ribbon said he didn't want to risk nobody else. He was determined to keep on by hisself, but me ol' man said if it whar too much for 'em all together to help each other, it whar too much for Mr. Ribbon all by hisself. 'Alls we can do is trust to Robby's good wits,' is what me pop told yers. 'An' make another try when the water goes down.' "

  Billy took another long draft, finishing the tankard, and shoving it back.

  "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," Robby said.

  "Aw, it ain't nuthin'," Billy replied, slapping Robby on the shoulder, causing him to wince. "An' 'specially when we got back, I'm afraid ye became the least of our worries. Nigh on a hunnerd people whar at our place by day's end, all flooded out of thar homes an' lookin' for shelter. Afore we knew it, we're puttin' folk up in the house, in the barns an' tackrooms, out in the armoury, down in the cellar, up in the attic, even in the old tower—anywhar with a roof an' floor above water. Ye never saw such a commotion an' clutter. Babies wailin' all over, folks cryin', carts an' wagons in all the yards. Sure had our hands full. Yer dad pitched right in, askin' everbody if they'd seen ye an' all as he unpacked carts an' moved bins an' bales to make room for families."

  "Then, along 'bout midnight, came the blacksmith, ol' man Clingdon, from Passdale, come all the way out to Boskland to fetch yer dad back to Passdale. He told us the waterwheel at the mill broke loose an' killed the mayor."

  "No!" Sheila gasped.

  "Mayor Greardon?" Robby asked, stunned. "Killed?"

  "That's right. Killed by the wheel cause he couldn't shut off the sluice, er somethin', an' the wheel tore right off, an' broke the shaft, an' somethin' fell on him whilst he was tryin' to stop it all. Anyhow, some part er other dragged him down into the water an' drowned him."

  "Oh, his poor wife!" Sheila said.

  "And a young son, too," Robby nodded.

  "Yeah, it's bad," Billy continued. "An' thar whar other things goin' on in Passdale, too. The storm did a lot of damage, an' folks felt like Mr. Ribbon was the one man everbody trusted who could pull the town together. I don't know what all was goin' on. I wasn't thar, of course. Anyways, yer dad an' the blacksmith left right away, soon as Clingdon got something hot in him."

  "So, next couple days, we stayed busy 'til the rains slacked up an' finally let off. Even my sister was put to work, stuck-up though she is, an' with her maid got all the big rooms set up for the older folk what came along. I kept pleadin' with me ol' man to send some men out for ye, but he wouldn't spare none. So, finally, this mornin', afore dawn, Ibin an' meself decided to come on just the two of us. We took a couple ponies an' a spare for ye as far as we could. At last, we couldn't get 'em to budge no further through the flooded-out road, so we turned 'em loose to go back home an' kept on without 'em. If it warn't for ol' Ibin, here, big an' heavy, we'd a washed right away. We didn't, though, an' got on through the flood. An' that's that. Here we are!"

  "When do you think your kinsmen will come looking for you?" Robby asked. "If I know your dad at
all, it won't be long."

  "Oh I doubt we'll be missed at all afore sunset. An' Pop ain't likely to send out a party at night in this muck. So I guess, if we can stay the night, an' be on our way in the mornin', we'll probably run into 'em on the way back. That is, if Mr. Ashlord will let us stay the night."

  "Oh, no worries there," Ashlord assured them. "You are most welcome to stay as long as you wish."

  "Thank, thank, thankyouMr.Ashlord," Ibin said, picking up the flying squirrel from his shoulder and placing it beside the owl on his knee. The two creatures had not left Ibin alone since his arrival and seem truly delighted to play on him, Certina flying from head to shoulder to knee to arm and Flitter chasing after her, leaping as deftly as she flew. Ibin grinned the whole while.

  Billy took a bite, and, throwing a look at Ashlord and Sheila, asked Robby, "Well, out with it, then. Y'gotta tell us what happened with them wolves. Did ye hear that weird sound out this way? The three bangs what woke us all up?"

  Robby looked over at Ashlord questioningly. Ashlord answered his unspoken query with a nod, and Robby turned back to Billy.

  "Yes. We did hear the sound," he sighed. "I'm afraid it was my doing."