The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  Then Robby told Ibin and Billy the entire tale of his last few days, much interrupted by Billy with questions until Robby got to the part about the chamber where the bell was, and the strange statues. Billy then became quiet, listening intently without comment or question. His unusual seriousness indicated to Robby that the story was deeply disturbing to him. When he got to the part about the battle between the wolves and the soldiers, and when Ashlord and Sheila showed up, Robby faltered a little bit, but kept on until he told all he could remember. Billy remained quiet and thoughtful, and the room was silent except for the crackle of the fireplace and the soft puffing of Ashlord at his pipe. He looked at the youngsters around him, arrived at some conclusion about them, and nodded to himself as if he had made a decision. Standing up, he emptied his pipe into the fireplace and turned to the group.

  "I think a little sunshine would do all of you much good," he said. "And I'm afraid I need some rest as I have had little lately. As I'm sure you have much more to talk about, I ask you to leave me for awhile. Sheila, perhaps the boys would be interested in the old southern keep? Why don't you take some food and show them that part of the Hill while I rest?"

  Sheila was agreeable to this, and soon the three boys, with Billy and Ibin back in their mostly dry clothes, were being led up a path through a jumble of mossy boulders and rocks and onward through a green pasture-like field and then into some woods, moving south along the ridge in the opposite direction from the fortress. On this side of Haven Hill, the ridge was flat and broad, and in many places the group could see the remains of stone houses, overgrown with ivy, or rock walls surrounding small lots of green grass. They emerged into an open area, and before them stood a small fortification, or at least the remains of one, with heavy stones set without mortar curving around and disappearing into the trees to their right and left. Clambering up the walls, they found they could see for miles across Barley, the woodlands below fading in the far distance to rolling fields of cultivated lands, bluish-green in the moist, hazy air. The sun was warm and bright for the first time in days, and they sprawled out on the rocks to enjoy the light and heat. Ibin found the cheese and bread in one of the sacks Ashlord had handed them, and soon he was passing around the skin of water, too.

  "That Ashlord's a queer sort of feller, if ye ask me," said Billy taking a bit of bread Ibin offered. "I mean, livin' in such a place as this."

  "Odd," nodded Robby. "I'll grant you that. But, as I've come to learn, and be grateful for, he sure knows a lot about things."

  "What sorta things, is what I wonder," Billy stated.

  "Well, like the other night, I mean. He knew who those stone soldiers were. And he knows all the history of this place, it seems, and a lot of other history, too. Things we never were taught by old Broadweed. Like the great battle that took place here. I mean we all know about it, but Ashlord seems to know a lot about it. Almost like he was here when it happened, though he said it was before his time."

  "Thatwas, thatwas, thatwasalongtimeago," said Ibin.

  "Yeah, it was. I know it's crazy to think such a thing, but it's just that with all he told me about it, I have a feeling there's a lot more that he could've said but didn't," Robby said. "And then there's you, Sheila. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

  "I told you," she said bluntly. "He's my teacher. I never went to Broadweed's school, as you well know. Yet, I'm not stupid. I've always been kind of wild, I suppose. Isn't that what folks in Barley and Passdale call me? The wild girl of the woods? I've heard them talk. And frankly, there's some truth in it. I never had a family like you three have had. Billy's mum is the only female friend I've ever had, and I think she took me under her wing out of pity's sake. Anyway, I decided that I needed to catch up, somehow, with my learning. You got me started, Robby, teaching me letters and somewhat of reading them. You were the first person to give me any credit for having any sense. So, well, to cut a long story short, one thing led to another, and I decided to come out here and talk to Ashlord about giving me some lessons."

  "But how come ye just up an' disappeared?" Billy asked. "I mean thar ye whar, an' suddenly yer gone. Most peculiral. It's been months an' months!."

  "No, it hasn't!" she replied.

  Robby had his head down, remembering the visit by Sheila at the shop and realizing that he was probably one of the last people she had seen before leaving.

  "Was that what you were trying to tell me when you came by the shop?" he asked softly. "That you were going away?"

  "Sort of," Sheila said.

  "An' Ashlord took ye in?" Billy asked.

  "Well, he didn't want to, at first." Sheila took the skin and drank a swallow of water. Since it was getting hot, she took off her coat and vest, exposing her tanned arms and shoulders and revealing the light sleeveless blouse she wore over her breeches. "He thought it seemed improper for a young girl to stay with a man, a stranger, such as himself, and he was worried for my reputation, or so he said. I guess he found out I didn't have much of one, and I think he went to see Mrs. Bosk, and maybe some other folks, too. I don't know. But anyway, I showed up here, asked him to take me in as a student. I pestered him all day. He kept asking me why I came to him. I kept telling him. There were long spells when we said nothing, and I waited as he went about his studies or did chores. I offered to help with his work, and he would just chuckle. After a long while of silence, he'd suddenly ask me again, in some way or another, about my reasons. He never once got angry at me, he never said a harsh thing, and I got the feeling that he knew more from my words, or from just looking at me, than most would ever know about me. Suddenly, toward the late afternoon, while splitting some firewood, he stopped, put down the axe, and picked up his cloak and walking stick. He said he had to look into a few things, and he told me to make myself at home, to explore the fortress, if I wished, and to help myself to his books and food. He said that he would have an answer for me when he returned, and he just walked off.

  "Late the next day, he came back and said he would agree to me staying with him, but only if I would promise to keep his confidence, to do as I was instructed, and to remain 'pure of heart and of body', as he put it, and, finally, he said I was to refrain, if I could, from letting anyone know that I was here. I agreed, and he set up a room for me, sort of. At least until Robby showed up. And, ever since, he's been teaching me letters and languages and other things besides. Stories. Things about the trees and the animals I never knew."

  "You mean, I've been taking your bed?"

  "Yes, you have."

  "But where does Ashlord sleep?"

  "I don't think he sleeps at all," Sheila said. "In all the time I've been out here, I have not once found him asleep. He's always up before I am and long after I fall asleep. Although sometimes he sits for hours and hours just staring, eyes wide open, sometimes mumbling to himself."

  "Then what's all that back thar 'bout him needin' rest?" Billy chimed in.

  "Oh, I don't doubt that he needs rest," Sheila said. "He's been pacing and mumbling and all distracted and agitated ever since Robby showed up. And he went all the way to Heneil's Wall two days ago and then straight back. I think something's going on that might be very important."

  "Like what?" Billy asked. Not getting a reply, he looked from Sheila to Robby and back. "What's goin' on?"

  Robby looked at Sheila, and she nodded.

  "I think you may as well tell them everything," Sheila said. "After all, if you can't trust these two who came all this way to look for you, I doubt if there's any you can."

  "Trust with what?" Billy was getting impatient.

  "Ashlord thinks maybe somebody might come after me," Robby said. "And maybe other things, too."

  "What? Why?"

  Robby told Billy and Ibin about the little box Ashlord kept and about the traitor at the battle for Tulith Attis and that it was a Faerekind that laid the trap, but it was a Faerekind who was the traitor, too, and not a man as legend had it. Robby told them about being sick as a child and the two
ladies that sang to him at his bedside. And, at last, he told them about the scars on his mother's back, that he, too, was of Elifaen blood, since those traits were passed from mother to child.

  "Aw, we all know that already!" Billy said, waving his hand at Robby.

  "You do? How?"

  "Everbody knows about the Tallins," Billy said. "How they got granted lands by the King himself. How every Tallin generation sends one to serve the King. When Lord Tallin was a Kingsman in Vanara, he took a Faere wife, an' she follered him back east when they lost thar lands in the west."

  "But I didn't know my grandmother was Elifaen!" Robby said. "I only met my grandfather once, or so I've been told. But I was a baby, and I don't remember it. My cousin Ullin Saheed is the only one of my mother's family that I know."

  "Haven't you ever thought that strange?" Sheila asked.

  "Yes, but, well, my dad told me that my mother's kin thought she married beneath her and so was estranged from her family. I just figured that my mother didn't want to talk about it."

  "Well, right she don't!" Billy said. "Look here, Robby, ye know I'm yer friend an' any who'd say a bad thing 'bout ye whilst I'm around'll pay with a bloody nose, at least. So I'm the last who'd say anythin' against ye or to hurt ye. But yer mum's hidin', I think."

  "From what?"

  "From everybody in Barley an' Passdale!" Sheila said. "You hear how the Elifaen are talked about. Not long ago, they weren't even allowed to pass through, unless they knew somebody or else paid a toll. People don't care so much any more, but still—"

  "Thing is, Robby," Billy interrupted, "they ain't trusted. Folk still talk of the war in these parts an' how men an' Faere Folk broke apart an' fought durin' them days. Folk made up all kind of tales 'bout Faeres an' bad luck, 'bout how they steal babies an' cattle, an' seduce ye with thar words an' stuff. I mean, I know all that's a bunch of crap, an' yer mum bein' married to yer dad an' the kind of man he is, well! At first people talked about the success with the shop an' how he came to be mayor for a while. An' that it was on account of yer mum's charms an' stuff, is what folk said. But now he's the most respected man around these parts, an' nobody thinks badly of yer family. An' yer mum's won over nearly ever'one around, the only real lady, me mum says, in all these parts. Still, I reckon yer folks're wary. They don't want thar boy ill-treated. Remember when I first met ye in Broadweed's school? Remember what a rascal I was? How I teased ye for bein' a wingless waif? Well, I didn't mean no harm by it, but those were mean things to say, an' I don't know how ye ever got past that to let me be yer friend later on. But name-callin' an' such as that I picked up from the other kids."

  "People can be pigs," Sheila said suddenly.

  "Right," nodded Billy. "So if yer mixed up in some Faerekind business, it figures it might bear on yer family."

  "So what of it!" Robby got up abruptly and tossed away a rock he had been rubbing. "I mean, all I did was try to save my skin. I can't help it if those wolves chased me through that chamber! And now all this stuff! All the strange things about my family, the strange Faerekind ladies who sang to me, and, well, blessed me, I suppose. All this with the stone soldiers from all that time ago, ancient spells, and whatnot. Traitors and traps. It's all just a big accident!"

  "Don't count on it," Sheila said.

  "And Ashlord," Robby went on, "telling me about those old days as if I had something to do with them. Talking about my mother. The funny thing is, he seems to know more about me than I do. In a way. I mean, who is he, anyway?"

  "He is a teacher, a scholar from the west, a Wise Man, as they say," Sheila said bluntly.

  "That's not what I heard," said Billy. "I heard he was a conjurer-king."

  "A what?" Sheila asked incredulously.

  "A conjurer-king," Billy repeated. "A king what can call on the spirits of dead folk. What can lift heavy stones an' not lay a finger on 'em, an' can steal fire from the sky, an' speak to animals an' make 'em do his biddin'."

  "Oh, posh!" Sheila exclaimed. "Conjurer-kings are just tales. He's just a scholar who knows a lot about things. He knows things that we would never understand if we tried all our lives. And he's old, too. Older than he looks."

  "Well, anyways," Billy went on, not the least perturbed by Sheila's skepticism, "Bob Starhart, the post rider, says he's some kinda criminal, exiled from his home far off in the Westlands."

  "Oh, please! How dare that stupid old clod say such a thing!" Sheila was indignant. "Ashlord is the kindest man I know. And even though he's a bit odd and no doubt has a troubled past, he's no criminal!"

  "I don't think my cousin Ullin would have anything to do with criminals unless it was to take them on," Robby added. "But Ashlord does seem, well, sort of royal, if you know what I mean. I mean to say, he's different."

  "And what kind of name is 'Ashlord,' anyway?" Billy quizzed. "Sounds made up to me."

  "It isn't his true name," Sheila retorted. "It is just what people call him.. His true name is Collandoth, a name in the Ancient Tongue, I think."

  " 'Far off from home the king did roam

  Away from kith and kin

  The keys to his kingdom

  And his oaken throne

  A quest alone and tasks unknown

  And whispers on the wind.

  Through false blame another name

  He needs must now put on

  To root out treason

  And by that reason

  Take back his oaken throne.' "

  Robby, Billy, and Sheila stared at Ibin as he softly sang, but when he noticed them gaping, he stopped and looked embarrassed.

  "Another one of yer rhymin' songs, eh, Ibin?" Billy asked.

  "Yeah. A, it'sa, it'sarhymingsong," Ibin said, nodding. "Iheardit, Ihearditsomewhere."

  "Ibin's full of such," Billy said, smiling proudly to Robby and Sheila. "Ain't ye?"

  "Yeah, I, I, yeah, I, yeahIknowalotofthem," Ibin beamed excitedly.

  "Where did you hear that one, Ibin?" Sheila asked.

  "Oh, Iheard, oh, IheardthatonefromtheFaeres," he said matter-of-factly. "Theyknow, theyknow, theyknowalotofsongs. Ilikethema lot. Andtheyletme, andtheyletme, andtheyletmesingwiththemsometimes."

  "The Faere?" Robby asked. Ibin nodded.

  "Ibin always says that," Billy said. "Well, not always, but a lot of times. Sometimes ol' Ibin here disappears for days at a time, comin' back happier than ever before, hummin' tunes an' whistlin'."

  "When's the last time you saw any Faere folk, Ibin?" Robby asked.

  "OhIseethemalot," Ibin said. "Iguessthelasttime, Iguessthelasttimeitwasawhileago, yeah, awhileago. Midsummer's, backaroundMidsummer'sDay. Yeah, Isawthem, IsawthemattheFirefeast."

  "Ah," Sheila said. "A lot of folk were coming through then. Minstrels and the like."

  "YeahIsawtheminstrels,too," Ibin said. "ButIlike, IliketheFaeresongsbetter. Ilikethembetterbecause, because, Iliketheirsongsbetterbecausetheydon'tgoaway."

  "They don't go away?" Robby said. "You mean you don't forget them?"

  "No, I, noI, noImeantheFaeresdon'tgoaway."

  Robby blinked, trying to make out what Ibin meant.

  "Youdon'thavetowaittoseethemif, if, ifyouwanto."

  "I have no idear what he means," said Billy. "Only that I know for a fact he didn't see no Faere folk at the Firefeast, 'cause I was with him the whole time."

  "Yeah," Ibin said. "Billywasthere, too. Billywastherebuthewasasleep, hewas asleep, hewasasleepwhentheFaeresongsweresung."

  "I don't know what he means, either," said Sheila. "But the Faerekind who are still in the world don't call themselves Faerekind any more. They're called the Elifaen. That means 'Fallen Ones.'"

  "Well, whatever they're called, Ibin's right about one thing," Robby laughed. "Billy did pass out pretty early, if I recall rightly."

  "Yeah, well, I might've," Billy said. "I might've been tuckered out from the fight with them Passdale gruffs."

  "I guess so," Robby said, not daring to look over at Sheila.

  "In fact," Billy plowe
d unwittingly ahead, "I think that was the last time I saw ye, Sheila. So have ye been out here ever since?"

  "Mostly," Sheila said.

  "Tell me about the roads, Billy," Robby asked. "I'd like to get back home."

  "They ain't too good. Ibin an' me came from Boskland, o'course. An' that's probably the best way back for ye when we go. Yer dad said the bridge at Weepingbrook was gone, an' that it was all swollen. I imagine, though, that we'll be hearin' the horns of Boskland afore the end of the day tomorrow if we're not back by then. I don't think me ol' man'll rest when he finds out I'm not in the house tonight. I bet he'll be out with a party of men afore dawn, if not earlier."

  They talked on for hours while the sun grew hot. Billy stripped off his shirt to sun his back and Ibin did the same, exposing his brawny shoulders next to Billy's wiry frame. Sheila took off her blouse, too, down to her halter, without a bit of shame. Robby hesitated for a moment, then gingerly took off his shirt, too.

  "Man, yer pale as a ghost!" Billy chuckled. "Ye oughta get out more, me friend."

  "Yeah," Robby nodded, "I know. But I've been pretty busy at the store, and there hasn't been much time for outdoors this summer."

  Seeing the gashes and bruises that covered Robby's body, Billy put his lips together and blew a silent whistle, shaking his head at the evidence of what his friend had recently been through. The worst wounds were on Robby's arms and left side. Many had been bandaged, and the one on his side was showing a little blood. When Billy gave Sheila a look of concern, she nodded.

  "Here," Sheila said, moving over to kneel next to Robby, "let me fix that. Lift your arms."

  Billy resumed talking about the flood, the roads and the damage to the crops while Sheila worked. Robby could not help wincing a time or two and tried not to let his eyes wander as she leaned over him. Her hands were firm and warm and her golden brown skin glistened. Her breasts pressed against him as she reached her arms around him to pull the bandage. She smelled of anise and lemony-thyme mixed with sweat, and the aroma of her body took him back to the last night they had together several months ago. He recalled her body next to his just two or three nights ago while he was delirious with fever.