by E. Nesbit
CHAPTER VI
A CASTLE AND NO DINNER
The others were to be kept in as a punishment for the misfortunes of theday before. Of course Martha thought it was naughtiness, and notmisfortune--so you must not blame her. She only thought she was doingher duty. You know, grown-up people often say they do not like to punishyou, and that they only do it for your own good, and that it hurts themas much as it hurts you--and this is really very often the truth.
Martha certainly hated having to punish the children quite as much asthey hated to be punished. For one thing, she knew what a noise therewould be in the house all day. And she had other reasons.
"I declare," she said to the cook, "it seems almost a shame keeping ofthem indoors this lovely day; but they are that audacious, they'll bewalking in with their heads knocked off some of these days, if I don'tput my foot down. You make them a cake for tea to-morrow, dear. Andwe'll have Baby along of us soon as we've got a bit forrard with ourwork. Then they can have a good romp with him, out of the way. Now,Eliza, come, get on with them beds. Here's ten o'clock nearly, and norabbits caught!"
People say that in Kent when they mean "and no work done."
So all the others were kept in, but Robert, as I have said, was allowedto go out for half an hour to get something they all wanted. And that,of course, was the day's wish.
He had no difficulty in finding the Sand-fairy, for the day was alreadyso hot that it had actually, for the first time, come out of its ownaccord, and was sitting in a sort of pool of soft sand, stretchingitself, and trimming its whiskers, and turning its snail's eyes roundand round.
"Ha!" it said when its left eye saw Robert; "I've been looking for you.Where are the rest of you? Not smashed themselves up with those wings,I hope?"
"No," said Robert; "but the wings got us into a row, just like all thewishes always do. So the others are kept indoors, and I was only let outfor half an hour--to get the wish. So please let me wish as quickly as Ican."
"Wish away," said the Psammead, twisting itself round in the sand. ButRobert couldn't wish away. He forgot all the things he had been thinkingabout, and nothing would come into his head but little things forhimself, like candy, a foreign stamp album, or a knife with three bladesand a corkscrew. He sat down to think better of things the others wouldnot have cared for--such as a football, or a pair of leg-guards, or tobe able to lick Simpkins Minor thoroughly when he went back to school.
"Well," said the Psammead at last, "you'd better hurry up with that wishof yours. Time flies."
"I know it does," said Robert. "_I_ can't think what to wish for. I wishyou could give one of the others their wish without their having tocome here to ask for it. Oh, _don't_!"
But it was too late. The Psammead had blown itself out to about threetimes its proper size, and now it collapsed like a pricked bubble, andwith a deep sigh leaned back against the edge of the sand-pool, quitefaint with the effort.
"There!" it said in a weak voice; "it was tremendously hard--but I didit. Run along home, or they're sure to wish for something silly beforeyou get there."
They were--quite sure; Robert felt this, and as he ran home his mind wasdeeply occupied with the sort of wishes he might find they had wished inhis absence. They might wish for rabbits, or white mice, or chocolate,or a fine day to-morrow, or even--and that was most likely--someonemight have said, "I do wish to goodness Robert would hurry up." Well, he_was_ hurrying up, and so they would have had their wish, and the daywould be wasted. Then he tried to think what they could wishfor--something that would be amusing indoors. That had been his owndifficulty from the beginning. So few things are amusing indoors whenthe sun is shining outside and you mayn't go out, however much you wantto do so.
Robert was running as fast as he could, but when he turned the cornerthat ought to have brought him within sight of the architect'snightmare--the ornamental iron-work on the top of the house--he openedhis eyes so wide that he had to drop into a walk; for you cannot runwith your eyes wide open. Then suddenly he stopped short, for there wasno house to be seen. The front garden railings were gone too, and wherethe house had stood--Robert rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, theothers _had_ wished,--there was no doubt about it,--and they must havewished that they lived in a castle; for there the castle stood, blackand stately, and very tall and broad, with battlements and lancetwindows, and eight great towers; and, where the garden and the orchardhad been, there were white things dotted like mushrooms. Robert walkedslowly on, and as he got nearer he saw that these were tents, and men inarmor were walking about among the tents--crowds and crowds of them.
There the castle stood, black and stately]
"Oh!" said Robert fervently. "They _have_! They've wished for a castle,and it's being besieged! It's just like that Sand-fairy! I wish we'dnever seen the beastly thing!"
At the little window above the great gateway, across the moat that nowlay where the garden had been but half an hour ago, someone was wavingsomething pale dust-colored. Robert thought it was one of Cyril'shandkerchiefs. They had never been white since the day when he had upsetthe bottle of "Combined Toning and Fixing Solution" into the drawerwhere they were. Robert waved back, and immediately felt that he hadbeen unwise. For this signal had been seen by the besieging force, andtwo men in steel-caps were coming towards him. They had high brown bootson their long legs, and they came towards him with such great stridesthat Robert remembered the shortness of his own legs and did not runaway. He knew it would be useless to himself, and he feared it might beirritating to the foe. So he stood still--and the two men seemed quitepleased with him.
"By my halidom," said one, "a brave varlet this!"
Robert felt pleased at being _called_ brave, and somehow it made him_feel_ brave. He passed over the "varlet." It was the way people talkedin historical romances for the young, he knew, and it was evidently notmeant for rudeness. He only hoped he would be able to understand whatthey said to him. He had not been always able quite to follow theconversations in the historical romances for the young.
"His garb is strange," said the other. "Some outlandish treachery,belike."
"Say, lad, what brings thee hither?"
Robert knew this meant, "Now then, youngster, what are you up to here,eh?"--so he said--
"If you please, I want to go home."
"Go, then!" said the man in the longest boots; "none hindereth, andnought lets us to follow. Zooks!" he added in a cautious undertone, "Imisdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged."
"Where dwellest thou, young knave?" inquired the man with the largeststeel-cap.
"Over there," said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he oughtto have said "Yonder!"
"Ha--sayest so?" rejoined the longest boots. "Come hither, boy. This ismatter for our leader."
And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear.
Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear]
The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He wasexactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historicalromances. He had armor, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, andfeathers, and a shield and a lance and a sword. His armor and hisweapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. Theshield was thirteenth century, while the sword was of the patternused in the Peninsular War. The cuirass was of the time of Charles I.,and the helmet dated from the Second Crusade. The arms on the shieldwere very grand--three red running lions on a blue ground. The tentswere of the latest brand approved of by our modern War Office, and thewhole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been a shock tosome. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all seemed to himperfectly correct, because he knew no more of heraldry or archaeologythan the gifted artists who usually drew the pictures for the historicalromances. The scene was indeed "exactly like a picture." He admired itall so much that he felt braver than ever.
"Come hither, lad," said the glorious leader, when the men inCromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eag
er words. And he took offhis helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kindface, and long fair hair. "Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe," hesaid.
Robert was glad of that. He wondered what "scathe" was, and if it wasnastier than the medicine which he had to take sometimes.
"Unfold thy tale without alarm," said the leader kindly. "Whence comestthou, and what is thine intent?"
"My what?" said Robert.
"What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thouwanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, thymother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me."
"I don't think so," said Robert; "you see, she doesn't know I'm out."
He wiped away a manly tear]
The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a historicalromance would have done, and said--
"Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear fromWulfric de Talbot."
Robert had a wild feeling that this glorious leader of the besiegingparty--being himself part of a wish--would be able to understand betterthan Martha, or the gipsies, or the policeman in Rochester, or theclergyman of yesterday, the true tale of the wishes and the Psammead.The only difficulty was that he knew he could never remember enough"quothas" and "beshrew me's," and things like that, to make his talksound like the talk of a boy in a historical romance. However, he beganboldly enough, with a sentence straight out of _Ralph de Courcy; or, TheBoy Crusader_. He said--
"Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's likethis--and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's rather abreather. Father and mother are away, and when we went down playing inthe sand-pits we found a Psammead."
"I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?" said the knight.
"Yes, a sort of--of fairy, or enchanter--yes, that's it, an enchanter;and he said we could have a wish every day, and we wished first to bebeautiful."
"Thy wish was scarce granted," muttered one of the men-at-arms, lookingat Robert, who went on as if he had not heard, though he thought theremark very rude indeed.
"And then we wished for money--treasure, you know; but we couldn't spendit. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and we had aripping time to begin with"--
"Thy speech is strange and uncouth," said Sir Wulfric de Talbot. "Repeatthy words--what hadst thou?"
"A ripping--I mean a jolly--no--we were contented with our lot--that'swhat I mean; only, after we got into an awful fix."
"What is a fix? A fray, mayhap?"
"No--not a fray. A--a--a tight place."
"A dungeon? Alas for thy youthful fettered limbs!" said the knight, withpolite sympathy.
"It wasn't a dungeon. We just--just encountered undeserved misfortunes,"Robert explained, "and to-day we are punished by not being allowed to goout. That's where I live,"--he pointed to the castle. "The others are inthere, and they're not allowed to go out. It's all the Psammead's--Imean the enchanter's fault. I wish we'd never seen him."
"He is an enchanter of might?"
"Oh yes--of might and main. Rather!"
"And thou deemest that it is the spells of the enchanter whom thou hastangered that have lent strength to the besieging party," said thegallant leader; "but know thou that Wulfric de Talbot needs noenchanter's aid to lead his followers to victory."
"No, I'm sure you don't," said Robert, with hasty courtesy; "of coursenot--you wouldn't, you know. But, all the same, it's partly his fault,but we're most to blame. You couldn't have done anything if it hadn'tbeen for us."
"How now, bold boy?" asked Sir Wulfric haughtily. "Thy speech is dark,and eke scarce courteous. Unravel me this riddle!"
"Oh," said Robert desperately, "of course you don't know it, but you'renot _real_ at all. You're only here because the others must have beenidiots enough to wish for a castle--and when the sun sets you'll justvanish away, and it'll be all right."
The captain and the men-at-arms exchanged glances at first pitying, andthen sterner, as the longest-booted man said, "Beware, my noble lord;the urchin doth but feign madness to escape from our clutches. Shall wenot bind him?"
"I'm no more mad than you are," said Robert angrily, "perhaps not somuch--Only, I was an idiot to think you'd understand anything. Let mego--I haven't done anything to you."
"Whither?" asked the knight, who seemed to have believed all theenchanter story till it came to his own share in it. "Whither wouldstthou wend?"
"Home, of course." Robert pointed to the castle.
"To carry news of succor? Nay!"
"All right, then," said Robert, struck by a sudden idea; "then let me gosomewhere else." His mind sought eagerly among the memories of thehistorical romance.
"Sir Wulfric de Talbot," he said slowly, "should think foul scorn to--tokeep a chap--I mean one who has done him no hurt--when he wants to cutoff quietly--I mean to depart without violence."
"This to my face! Beshrew thee for a knave!" replied Sir Wulfric. Butthe appeal seemed to have gone home. "Yet thou sayest sooth," he addedthoughtfully. "Go where thou wilt," he added nobly, "thou art free.Wulfric de Talbot warreth not with babes, and Jakin here shall bear theecompany."
"All right," said Robert wildly. "Jakin will enjoy himself, I think.Come on, Jakin. Sir Wulfric, I salute thee."
He saluted after the modern military manner, and set off running to thesand-pit, Jakin's long boots keeping up easily.
He found the Fairy. He dug it up, he woke it up, he implored it to givehim one more wish.
"I've done two to-day already," it grumbled, "and one was as stiff a bitof work as ever I did."
"Oh, do, do, do, do, _do_!" said Robert, while Jakin looked on with anexpression of open-mouthed horror at the strange beast that talked, andgazed with its snail's eyes at him.
"Oh, do, do, _do_!" said Robert]
"Well, what is it?" snapped the Psammead, with cross sleepiness.
"I wish I was with the others," said Robert. And the Psammead began toswell. Robert never thought of wishing the castle and the siege away. Ofcourse he knew they had all come out of a wish, but swords and daggersand pikes and lances seemed much too real to be wished away. Robert lostconsciousness for an instant. When he opened his eyes the others werecrowding round him.
"We never heard you come in," they said. "How awfully jolly of you towish it to give us our wish!"
"Of course we understood that was what you'd done."
"But you ought to have told us. Suppose we'd wished something silly."
"Silly?" said Robert, very crossly indeed. "How much sillier could youhave been, I'd like to know? You nearly settled _me_--I can tellyou."
Then he told his story, and the others admitted that it certainly hadbeen rough on him. But they praised his courage and cleverness so muchthat he presently got back his lost temper, and felt braver than ever,and consented to be captain of the besieged force.
"We haven't done anything yet," said Anthea comfortably; "we waited foryou. We're going to shoot at them through these little loopholes withthe bow and arrows uncle gave you, and you shall have first shot."
"I don't think I would," said Robert cautiously; "you don't know whatthey're like near to. They've got _real_ bows and arrows--an awfullength--and swords and pikes and daggers, and all sorts of sharp things.They're all quite, quite real. It's not just a--a picture, or a visionor anything; they can _hurt us_--or kill us even, I shouldn't wonder. Ican feel my ear all sore yet. Look here--have you explored the castle?Because I think we'd better let them alone as long as they let us alone.I heard that Jakin man say they weren't going to attack till justbefore sundown. We can be getting ready for the attack. Are there anysoldiers in the castle to defend it?"
"We don't know," said Cyril. "You see, directly I'd wished we were in abesieged castle, everything seemed to go upside down, and when it camestraight we looked out of the window, and saw the camp and things andyou--and of course we kept on looking at everything. Isn't this roomjolly? It's as real as real!"
It w
as. It was square, with stone walls four feet thick, and great beamsfor ceiling. A low door at the corner led to a flight of steps, up anddown. The children went down; they found themselves in a great archedgate-house--the enormous doors were shut and barred. There was a windowin a little room at the bottom of the round turret up which the stairwound, rather larger than the other windows, and looking through it theysaw that the drawbridge was up and the portcullis down; the moat lookedvery wide and deep. Opposite the great door that led to the moat wasanother great door, with a little door in it. The children went throughthis, and found themselves in a big courtyard, with the great grey wallsof the castle rising dark and heavy on all four sides.
Near the middle of the courtyard stood Martha, moving her right handbackwards and forwards in the air. The cook was stooping down and movingher hands, also in a very curious way. But the oddest and at the sametime most terrible thing was the Lamb, who was sitting on nothing, aboutthree feet from the ground, laughing happily.
The children ran towards him. Just as Anthea was reaching out her armsto take him, Martha said crossly, "Let him alone--do, miss, when he _is_good."
"But what's he _doing_?" said Anthea.
"Doing? Why, a-setting in his high chair as good as gold, a precious,watching me doing of the ironing. Get along with you, do--my iron's coldagain."
She went towards the cook, and seemed to poke an invisible fire with anunseen poker--the cook seemed to be putting an unseen dish into aninvisible oven.
"Run along with you, do," she said; "I'm behindhand as it is. You won'tget no dinner if you come a-hindering of me like this. Come, off yougoes, or I'll pin a discloth to some of your tails."
"You're _sure_ the Lamb's all right?" asked Jane anxiously.
"Right as ninepence, if you don't come unsettling of him. I thoughtyou'd like to be rid of him for to-day; but take him, if you want him,for gracious' sake."
"No, no," they said, and hastened away. They would have to defend thecastle presently, and the Lamb was safer even suspended in mid air in aninvisible kitchen than in the guard-room of the besieged castle. Theywent through the first doorway they came to, and sat down helplessly ona wooden bench that ran along the room inside.
"How awful!" said Anthea and Jane together; and Jane added, "I feel asif I was in a lunatic asylum."
"What does it mean?" Anthea said. "It's creepy; I don't like it. I wishwe'd wished for something plain--a rocking-horse, or a donkey, orsomething."
"It's no use wishing _now_," said Robert bitterly; and Cyril said--
"Do be quiet; I want to think."
He buried his face in his hands, and the others looked about them. Theywere in a long room with an arched roof. There were wooden tables alongit, and one across at the end of the room, on a sort of raised platform.The room was very dim and dark. The floor was strewn with dry thingslike sticks, and they did not smell nice.
Cyril sat up suddenly and said--
"Look here--it's all right. I think it's like this. You know, we wishedthat the servants shouldn't notice any difference when we got wishes.And nothing happens to the Lamb unless we specially wish it to. So ofcourse they don't notice the castle or anything. But then the castle ison the same place where our house was--is, I mean--and the servants haveto go on being in the house, or else they _would_ notice. But you can'thave a castle mixed up with our house--and so _we_ can't see the house,because we see the castle; and they can't see the castle, because theygo on seeing the house; and so"--
"Oh, _don't_," said Jane; "you make my head go all swimmy, like being ona roundabout. It doesn't matter! Only, I hope we shall be able to seeour dinner, that's all--because if it's invisible it'll be unfeelable aswell, and then we can't eat it! I _know_ it will, because I tried tofeel if I could feel the Lamb's chair and there was nothing under him atall but air. And we can't eat air, and I feel just as if I hadn't hadany breakfast for years and years."
"It's no use thinking about it," said Anthea. "Let's go on exploring.Perhaps we might find something to eat."
This lighted hope in every breast, and they went on exploring thecastle. But though it was the most perfect and delightful castle you canpossibly imagine, and furnished in the most complete and beautifulmanner, neither food nor men-at-arms were to be found in it.
"If you'd only thought of wishing to be besieged in a castle thoroughlygarrisoned and provisioned!" said Jane reproachfully.
"You can't think of everything, you know," said Anthea. "I should thinkit must be nearly dinner-time by now."
It wasn't; but they hung about watching the strange movements of theservants in the middle of the courtyard, because, of course, theycouldn't be sure where the dining-room of the invisible house was.Presently they saw Martha carrying an invisible tray across thecourtyard, for it seemed that, by the most fortunate accident, thedining-room of the house and the banqueting-hall of the castle were inthe same place. But oh, how their hearts sank when they perceived thatthe tray _was_ invisible!
They waited in wretched silence while Martha went through the form ofcarving an unseen leg of mutton and serving invisible greens andpotatoes with a spoon that no one could see. When she had left the room,the children looked at the empty table, and then at each other.
"This is worse than anything," said Robert, who had not till now beenparticularly keen on his dinner.
"I'm not so very hungry," said Anthea, trying to make the best ofthings, as usual.
Cyril tightened his belt ostentatiously. Jane burst into tears.
