The Sword in the Tree

by Clyde Robert Bulla

  Dedication

  For Dick

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  I Weldon Castle

  II Uncle Lionel

  III The Oak Tree

  IV The Hunt

  V The Sword

  VI Words in the Ashes

  VII The Robbers

  VIII Magnus

  IX A Promise

  X Camelot

  XI King Arthur

  XII Sir Gareth

  XIII The Field of Battle

  XIV The Dungeon

  Excerpt from A Lion to Guard Us

  About the Author

  By Clyde Robert Bulla

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  WELDON CASTLE

  1

  The boy sat up in bed. A sound in the night had wakened him.

  His room was so dark he could see nothing, but he could hear steps outside his door. He held his breath and listened.

  “Shan!” said a voice.

  He let his breath go. It was his mother, calling his name.

  “Yes?” he said. “What is it?”

  Lady Marian came into the room. She had a candle in her hand, and the light moved over the stone walls.

  “Shan, I’m glad to find you here,” she said. “I was afraid you had gone with your father.”

  “Where has my father gone?” asked Shan.

  “One of the servants just wakened him and they went away together,” she said. “I heard them speak of a wounded knight.”

  “A wounded knight?” said Shan.

  “Yes,” said Lady Marian. “Shan, what does it mean? Is someone making war on us? Are there enemy soldiers outside?”

  “Don’t be afraid, Mother,” said Shan. “Our good King Arthur has beaten all our enemies. And even if there were enemies, we would be safe here. There is no stronger castle in England than ours.”

  He went to the window. A light was moving in the courtyard below.

  “Mother, I’m going down there,” he said.

  “I don’t think you should go,” said Lady Marian.

  “No one is fighting,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  He put on his clothes. He ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. There was a light near the castle gate. He went toward it.

  At the gate he found his father. Some of the servants were there, too. One of them had a lighted torch in his hand.

  “Father—” Shan stopped. On the stones at his father’s feet lay a man. A long, black beard hid his face. Two of the servants were taking off his armor.

  “Who is he?” asked Shan.

  “No one knows,” said his father. “He beat on the gate. We let him in, and he fell in a faint.”

  “My lord, I have found his wound,” said one of the servants.

  Shan’s father looked at the wound in the man’s side. “Bring him into the castle at once,” he said.

  The servants lifted the wounded man. They carried him into a bedroom in the castle.

  “Has he lost much blood?” asked Shan.

  “I think so,” said his father. “The wound is deep.”

  “Shall I bring Nappus?” asked Shan.

  “Nappus?”

  “Yes. Nappus is a man of magic. He can make the knight well.”

  “Poor Nappus.” Shan’s father shook his head. “He knows no magic. But he was once the best of doctors.”

  “He is still the best of doctors,” said Shan. “Remember how he took the fishbone from your throat? Remember how he bound up my arm when it was broken?”

  “Yes, yes,” said his father. “Go and bring him if you wish.”

  Shan took a lighted torch from one of the servants and ran out across the courtyard. He opened a door in the castle wall. It was the door to Nappus’ room.

  Nappus was sleeping, with his cloak over his head. Shan touched him. Nappus looked out from under the cloak.

  He was a small man. His hair was white. He could neither hear nor speak, but his eyes were keen and bright.

  “There is a wounded knight in the castle,” said Shan. “Come and dress his wound.”

  Nappus watched Shan’s lips, reading the words. He nodded to show that he understood. From a box in a corner he took some jars and bottles. He tied them up in a cloth.

  Shan led the way to the castle. Nappus knelt by the wounded man. He washed the wound and dressed it. He opened the man’s mouth and poured a little red wine down his throat.

  The man moved. His eyes opened, and he looked at Nappus. “Lord Weldon!” he said in a whisper. “Where is Lord Weldon?”

  Shan’s father came forward. “I am Lord Weldon. You are safe in Weldon Castle.”

  The wounded man tried to lift himself. “Brother—!” he said. Then he fell back and was still.

  Shan’s father bent over the man and looked into his face. He cried out, “Lionel!” His voice shook with excitement. He said to Shan, “This knight is my brother. I am sure of it. Shan, this is your Uncle Lionel. After these many years, your Uncle Lionel has come home!”

  UNCLE LIONEL

  2

  Shan had heard many tales of his uncle. Now he wanted to hear more. “Tell me about my Uncle Lionel,” he said to his father.

  “Wait until he is strong,” said Lord Weldon, “and he will tell you himself.”

  Shan asked his mother, “Will you tell me about my uncle?”

  “I never knew him well,” she said. “He sailed from England long before you were born. He was wild when he was a boy. He was never a kind and gentle knight, and he was never as brave as your father.”

  “Did he live here at Weldon Castle?” asked Shan.

  “No,” said Lady Marian. “He had a castle of his own, but he sold it and quickly spent the money. Then he went away to France and Spain and other far places.”

  “Do you think he will tell me about those far places?” asked Shan.

  “He may,” said his mother, “when he is strong again.”

  Every day Shan sat for a while by Lionel’s bed. Most of the time his uncle slept. When he looked about him, his eyes were bright with fever and he knew no one.

  But one morning, when he woke, the fever was gone from his eyes. He looked at Shan.

  “Why do you sit there?” he asked.

  Shan looked at him in surprise.

  “Why do you sit and look at me?” cried Lionel. “Speak, you young dog!”

  Shan jumped to his feet. “I am no dog. I am the son of Lord Weldon.”

  “You lie! My brother has no son.”

  “I do not lie, and you have no right to say so!” Shan turned and walked out of the room.

  On the stairs he met his father.

  “I’ll sit with my uncle no more,” he said.

  “Why?” asked Lord Weldon. “What has he done?”

  “He called me a dog,” said Shan. “He said I was no son of yours.”

  “He said those things to you? Then my brother must be better,” said Lord Weldon, and he ran upstairs.

  Shan went outside. He was so angry he felt warm all over. No one had ever talked to him before as his uncle had talked to him just now.

  He went to the stone trough near the castle gate. It was the trough where the horses were watered. He put his head down into it. The water cooled his face.

  He saw Nappus sitting by the wall. He started across the courtyard to sit beside him, but before he got there, someone called his name.

  It was Lord Weldon calling from the window of Lionel’s room. “Come, Shan!”

  Shan did not want to go, but he knew he must obey his father. He walked slowly back toward the castle.

  Inside he found his father and Lionel laughing and talking together.

  �
�This is a great day for us all,” said Lord Weldon. “Your uncle can sit up. He can talk and laugh again. See how much better he is?”

  “Yes, Father,” said Shan.

  “You must not be angry at the things he said. That was only a joke.”

  “Yes,” said Lionel. “It was only a joke. Take my hand.”

  Shan went to the bed and took his uncle’s hand.

  “We must be friends,” said Lionel. “Here, let me look at you. How old are you?”

  “Eleven, sir,” said Shan.

  “And what do you wish to be when you are a man?”

  “A knight,” said Shan.

  “Good!” said Lionel. “I can teach you all the things a knight should know. How to ride, how to use a lance and sword—”

  “My father is teaching me those things,” said Shan.

  “I’ll teach you even more,” said Lionel. “We can start today.”

  Lord Weldon spoke up. “No, not today. Remember your wound.”

  “Ah, yes, my wound. I’d like to have my hands on the dog who gave it to me!” said Lionel.

  He told them what had happened. “Late in the evening I was riding toward Weldon Castle. In the woods three robbers set upon me. One of them wounded me with a knife. They stole my purse, my sword and shield, and my horse.”

  “There are many robbers in the land,” said Lord Weldon. “It is not safe to ride in the woods alone.”

  “No gold, no horse, no sword or shield,” said Lionel. “What a poor knight am I!”

  “Not poor at all,” said Lord Weldon. “You are with your own people again. You have a home with us.”

  “My good brother,” said Lionel. “How can I ever thank you?” And he bowed his head over his brother’s hand.

  THE OAK TREE

  3

  The next day Lionel asked to be taken outside.

  “I want to sit in the shade of the great oak tree,” he said.

  The oak tree stood in the castle garden. There were some who said it was the oldest tree in all England. Ever since Shan was a small boy, he had liked to climb it. High in its trunk he had found a hollow so large that he could nearly get inside it.

  “I fear the oak will die, with such a large hollow in its trunk,” Lord Weldon had said.

  But the tree was still strong and green, and each spring it put out new leaves and branches.

  Four servants carried Lionel, bed and all, into the garden. They put him down under the oak tree.

  “Stay with him until I come back,” Lord Weldon told Shan.

  “Where are you going, Father?” asked Shan.

  “It is time for me to ride through my lands,” said Lord Weldon. “I want to talk with the farmers and see how the crops are growing.”

  One of the things Shan liked best was riding with his father.

  “I wish I could go,” he said.

  “So do I,” said his father, “but your uncle doesn’t like being left alone.”

  So Shan stayed with his uncle.

  “Is your father gone much of the time?” asked Lionel.

  “Only when he rides out through his lands,” said Shan.

  “Doesn’t he ever go away to war?”

  “There is no war in England. These are times of peace,” said Shan. “For many years we have had no prisoners in the dungeon under our castle.”

  “No prisoners? Then what do you do with your dungeon?”

  “Nothing. I wish my father would have it filled with earth and stones. It is such an ugly place, with no window for the sun to shine in.”

  “You had better keep your dungeon. You may have need of it.” Lionel sat up straight. “Look. What is that old man doing here?” He shouted in a loud voice, “Go!”

  The old man was bending over a rose bush. He did not look up.

  Lionel turned red with anger. “Bring me a stone to throw. I’ll have him out in a hurry.”

  “You must do him no harm,” said Shan. “That is Nappus.”

  “Nappus? Who is Nappus?”

  “He is the one who cared for you and dressed your wound. He has a right to come to this garden. He finds snails and herbs here for his medicines.”

  “But why did he not speak when I spoke to him?”

  “He could not hear you,” said Shan. “Years ago he was caught in the woods by a storm. He stood under a tree, and the tree was struck by lightning. After that day, Nappus could not hear or speak. But he is very wise. There are some who say he is a man of magic.”

  “Then I would do him no harm,” said Lionel. “It is good luck to have such a man about the castle. Old man!” he called. “You may stay if you like . . . Oh, I forgot. He cannot hear me.”

  Shan went to Nappus. He looked among the rose bushes and found two big brown snails. He put them into Nappus’ hand.

  Nappus smiled and nodded. Then he saw Lionel and the smile left his face. He turned and went quickly away.

  “He is a strange old man,” said Lionel.

  “He knows many things,” said Shan. “He helped make my sword.”

  “Have you a sword of your own?” asked Lionel.

  “Yes, I have,” said Shan.

  “Bring it here,” said Lionel.

  Shan went to the great hall of the castle. The armor was kept there in wooden chests. On the walls were lances, bows and arrows, swords, and shields. Shan climbed up on one of the chests and took down his sword and shield. They were smaller than those used by the men.

  He put on his belt and scabbard. He slid the sword into the scabbard. He took up the shield and ran out into the garden.

  “Do you practice with these?” asked Lionel.

  “Every day,” said Shan, “and with a crossbow, too. And I practice climbing and riding and jumping.”

  “Draw your sword,” said Lionel.

  Shan drew his sword from the scabbard.

  “Faster!” said Lionel.

  Shan tried again. He drew the sword as quickly as he could.

  “That is better,” said Lionel. “Now I’ll see you ride.”

  Shan went to the stables. He told a groom, “Bring me my horse.”

  The groom brought the horse to the garden.

  Shan got into the saddle. The groom handed up his shield.

  “Now,” said Lionel, “ride to the end of the garden walk and back—and be quick.”

  Shan put his heels to the horse’s sides, and the horse was off. He rode to the end of the walk. He turned and rode back.

  “You sit well enough in the saddle,” said Lionel, “but your turn was too slow. Try again. Jerk the reins when you turn your horse. Jerk as hard as you can and bring his feet off the ground.”

  “I’ll not do that,” said Shan.

  “What!” said Lionel.

  “It isn’t good to jerk a horse on a turn,” said Shan. “A strong pull is better and faster.”

  “Are you telling me how to turn a horse?”

  “I ride as my father taught me.”

  “It’s time I taught you a real lesson!” Lionel tried to get to his feet.

  “No!” said Shan. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  Lionel fell back on the bed. “Get out of my sight!” he shouted.

  As Shan rode out of the garden, he heard his uncle still shouting, “Out of my sight! Out of my sight, you bold brat!”

  THE HUNT

  4

  After that day, Lionel said no more about teaching Shan to ride or use a sword.

  When his wound had healed, he took long rides beyond his brother’s lands. Often he brought strange men back with him.

  Some of them he had known in France or Spain, he said. Others he had met along the road. Night after night they came to the castle. They sat in the great hall, singing and eating and drinking.

  “I do not like these strange, rough men,” said Lady Marian.

  “They are my brother’s friends,” said Lord Weldon.

  “I wish you would send them away,” said Lady Marian, “and send your brother with them.”
/>   “Send my brother away?” said Lord Weldon. “I could not do that.”

  “Will he always be here?” she asked. “Will he and his friends always be at our table, eating our food and drinking our wine?”

  “My brother is well and strong now,” said Lord Weldon. “He will soon ride away to look for new adventures.”

  But the weeks went by, and Lionel stayed.

  One autumn morning he and some of his friends went fox hunting. Lord Weldon went with them.

  From his window in the castle, Shan watched them ride away. Each had a hunting knife at his side, and some had spears and bows and arrows. Dogs were barking and running in and out among the horses.

  No one had asked Shan to go, but he did not mind. He liked to hunt with his father, but he had no wish to go with Lionel and his friends.

  He went down to the great hall. From a shelf he took the long box in which his father’s sword was kept.

  Shan was sure it was the most beautiful sword in the world. The blade was of fine blue steel. The hilt was of gold, set with small red stones. When he took the sword from the box, the stones flashed in the light.

  Long ago Shan had asked his father, “May I be the one to care for your sword?”

  His father had told him, “Yes, my son, because some day it will be yours.”

  Shan rubbed the blade with oil so that the steel would not rust. He rubbed the hilt with a soft cloth until the gold was clean and bright.

  While he worked, the great hall began to grow dark. He put the sword away.

  He went outside and looked at the sky. It was dark with clouds, and a few drops of rain were falling.

  His mother called to him from the castle, “Come out of the rain, Shan.”

  He went inside. He climbed the stairs to his mother’s room.

  Lady Marian was sitting by the window. “Now are you glad you did not go on the hunt?”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said. “It is a poor day for hunting.”

  “Your father will come home wet and cold,” she said. “We must have a good fire ready for him.”

  Shan was at the window. “I think I see the men coming now.”