The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "It's been too long, Ullin. Three years? Four?"

  "About that, I think, since I last passed through, but much longer since I last saw Ribby," he said putting a hand on Robby's shoulder. "And now he's a man! Hard to believe."

  "Yep, I reckon ye did miss him the last few times ye came through, with him at his letters an' all. Come. Come on in. Mira! Mirabella!" As Mr. Ribbon called upstairs, he pulled at the arm of the welcomed guest who gently resisted the tug.

  "I cannot stay long," he was saying as Mrs. Ribbon appeared. A little taller than her husband, thin and with skin like milk, her crimson hair pulled up, she was still tying the side laces of her bodice. When she saw the stranger, she halted, staring at the visitor. Suddenly her entire countenance transformed as her face lit with recognition and joy so that her green eyes welled with tears, and she rushed to him.

  "Ullin!" she cried out in happiness. "Oh, Ullin, blessed stars above!" To Robby's shock and some dismay, Ullinseed picked his mother up and twirled her about like a lass, barely missing a rack of jars, the both of them laughing with delight.

  "Do you remember Robby?" she asked when her feet were back on the floor. Holding out her hand to her son, she pulled him to her, putting her arm around his shoulder proudly.

  "Oh, yes, I remember him quite well, though he is a man now. But I think he does not well remember me."

  "Yes, I do," Robby stammered, trying to smile. "At least I think I do."

  "Robby," his mother put a hand on both of his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "This is Ullin Saheed. He is your cousin, my brother's son."

  "Oh, yes," Robby said, shaking hands again with him. Robby had forgotten that he had a cousin and that he once had an uncle, too. While Robby tried to remember what had happened to his uncle, and why his cousin looked so much older than his mother, his parents were trying to bustle Ullin Saheed around.

  "What do you mean you can't stay long?" Mirabella was demanding. "At least for a few days."

  "I'm sorry. Not even for a night. My business will not wait. It brings me here, but then I must be off. I must push through Forest Mistwarren, thence to Colleton, and from there by boat to Glareth by the Sea. I hope to return this way. Even then I will not tarry long. I must reach Loringard before the snows cover the pass and block my way back to Duinnor."

  "I suppose you go to see your mother in Glareth?" she asked.

  "I hope to see her, yes. But it is business that takes me there, not pleasure."

  "What could be so urgent that you cannot stay but for a—"

  "Mira!" Mr. Ribbon broke in gently, then looked at Ullin. "Yer business, urgent er no, is yer own affair. Can ye not stay at least to rest for a little while? An' maybe get a decent meal?"

  "As it happens, since my business brought me here to see you, I've allowed time. First, however, I need to see to my mount. He has carried me faithfully and fast and with little reward or rest for sixty-odd days."

  "Of course. Robby! See to Ullin's horse, won't ye, son? Get him liveried over at Torman's. An' hurry on back, as we might be needin' ye."

  "Wait," Ullin said as Robby turned to go. "Would you mind first removing the saddle and bags, and lay them up on the porch. That and a tarpaulin over the saddle might keep away questions at least for the short while I am here. There are too many people around that would ply me with handshakes and questions and hold me from my course."

  "Surely, surely. Robby, see it done just as he says an' get on back as soon as ye may."

  "Yes, sir, but if secrecy is needed, who shall I say the horse belongs to?"

  "Tell Torman it belongs to the Post Rider, which is true enough since that is what I am these days. Thank you, Ribby." Ullin said.

  "I am called Robby, now, as I'm grown up and no longer a child."

  "And you may call me Ullin Saheed, since your skills of speech are much improved, too. Or just Ullin, as do most."

  Robby smiled and nodded. "I'll be back as quick as I can."

  Ullin's horse was eyeing Mrs. Ribbon's herb planters, just out of the reach of his tether, when Robby came outside. Soon the cinches and straps were loosened, and Robby was pulling off the saddle. He could not help but notice the strange embossing on the saddlebags and buckles, some foreign lettering he supposed, something like the script of the Westlands in some of his mother's books. As he removed a bedroll and bundle that hung on the back of the saddle, he saw protruding from it the hilt of yet another sword, longer and finer than the one worn by Ullin. He put it carefully down in a pile to take inside and quickly had the saddle off and up onto the porch. After taking the other things inside and tucking them away in a corner, he covered the saddle as requested. He quickly took up the reins to lead the handsome horse away, but the beast was reluctant to leave the thick grass.

  "Come, there," Robby said soothingly, "you'll have your belly full soon enough. And a nice grooming, too."

  The horse glanced at the store, then allowed himself to be led away.

  • • •

  "Special Post, eh?" Mr. Ribbon asked as he and Mirabella led Ullin upstairs.

  "Yes, for nigh onto a year I've carried that commission, too, for special dispatches."

  "Where is the usual man, Bob Starhart?" Mirabella asked. "It's been well over a fortnight since he has come through."

  "An' how did ye come to be commissioned as a Post Rider, anyhow? D'ye still carry the King's sword?"

  "Yes, I am still a Kingsman as well. How I came to be also riding Post is a long story, and the short of it I will tell you later. Of Bob Starhart I cannot say, and I'm very concerned. I was to deliver to him several dispatches to be taken to other parts and was to receive from him the Post for Barley since I was to come this way, anyway. But when I reached Janhaven, where the Post Station is, they had not seen Starhart for three or four weeks. That was yesterday. His wife was much concerned, too; she was at the Post Station when I arrived. And, by the time I left there, she had convinced the Post Riders there to send out another search party for him southwards along his last route. My understanding is that they've already scoured the countryside for him, and this was to be their last attempt to find him. I would have accompanied them, but my business cannot wait."

  "Oh, that don't sound good at all," Mr. Ribbon said. "I certainly hope he ain't met up with them bandits that's rumored to be about them hills 'round thar."

  "I was told that a number of unsavory characters have been passing through and loitering about Janhaven," Ullin nodded. "As you can imagine, everyone over there is quite worried."

  "Here, let me have your cloak to clean. There is bathing water and soap over here," Mirabella directed Ullin. "Clean up a little and come to the kitchen. Our questions can wait until after you've eaten and had a bit of rest."

  • • •

  Robby hurried to the livery stable up the road about a furlong, and was glad that he did not run into anyone along the way. He had a strange feeling that he was caught up in some mystery and was a little perturbed by it, too. At the very least, he did not want to answer any awkward questions about the horse and was grateful that only the stable hand was at the livery. After leaving instructions to give the horse the best—water, oats, a check of the shoes, and a rubdown—and telling the attendant to put it on the store's account, Robby started back home. He almost broke into a run but checked himself to a very fast walk. He was irked by the notion that Ullin, having arrived out of the blue and full of mystery, was probably explaining everything at this very moment, so that by the time he got back home all would be told, and he would stay in the dark. He took the steps by twos onto the porch and into the store and the stairs likewise, panting as he got to the top floor. His mother was busy in the kitchen, and in another room his father was looking over some papers, some rolled up and held by leather cords, others folded and sealed. He heard pouring water from the washroom, and, walking to the open door, he saw Ullin rinsing his face in the washroom. His cloak, sword, and travel bags were out of sight. He was wearing a dark green j
erkin over a black blouse from which, as he bent over the basin to dash more water onto his face, a silver locket dangled. The legs of his breeches were tucked into high, brown boots, almost up to his knees, that were laced tight. Robby saw the right boot had a sheath made into the side of it out of which a dagger hilt protruded.

  "You certainly are well armed," Robby said, leaning against the doorway, trying to breathe easy and act nonchalant. Ullin turned, wiping his wet arms with the towel.

  "Better than some," he said. "Not as well as others."

  "I noticed you had a long sword in your bedroll, a shorter one, and your boot has a dagger."

  "The dagger and the long sword are my own. The other shorter one is standard issue to Post Riders."

  "I never saw Bob Starhart carry one."

  Ullin hung up the towel and shrugged, putting the locket back under his blouse.

  "Mr. Starhart is not a Kingsman," he stated.

  "Do you have much call to use any of them?" Robby went on.

  "Sometimes. When necessary."

  "Where did you learn to use them?"

  "Far from here, in the King's Service," Ullin replied, rolling his sleeves back down and moving toward the door. "Now, what about you, though? You look well. The last time I came through, I was told that you had just finished your letters with the local schoolmaster. I thought you were to go to Glareth to continue your studies there."

  "Yes, that was the plan." Robby shrugged and went on. "But one thing and another has put me behind. For one, I had to take care of the shop for about a year while my father traveled back and forth to Colleton on trade business. By the time that was all settled, I had missed two terms. Then, on top of that, I decided to wait for a friend of mine to finish his letters so that we could go to Glareth together and take the entrance examinations together. Only he's taking longer to get his papers from the schoolmaster than I hoped."

  "I see. Then you must be pretty impatient to get on with things."

  "I don't know. I suppose, in a way. But I don't mind waiting a bit longer, as it turns out. He's a good friend. And when he does get his papers, it'll be good to have a friend to go with me. And I'm still reading with Mr. Broadweed, the schoolmaster, to keep my skills up. He has lots of books that he lends to me. That is, when I'm not helping with the shop."

  "And what of your friends? Do you see them much? Or has your work in the store prevented that?"

  "Yes, I've been busy. And Billy, the friend I mentioned, the fellow I hope to go to Glareth with, is kept busy at his family's estate, too. That is, when he's not at school. His place is Boskland, if you know of it. And my other good friend, Ibin, has taken up metalwork there, too, sort of. So I don't get out and about much these days, except for running errands and such."

  "Yes, I know of the Bosklanders. A hearty old clan, by the tales of it. And I seem to remember," Ullin said, as Robby guided him down the hall, "a bratty little girl who threw dirt clods at us. For almost a whole day she followed us across County Barley taunting us. Remember how you'd tag along with me on my mapping surveys? Anyway, she certainly was a wild little girl. Do you know who I mean?"

  "Oh, yes," Robby felt his heart thump and hurried Ullin to the kitchen.

  "Whatever became of her?"

  "I'm not quite sure," Robby said awkwardly, feeling his face redden. "I wish I knew. I haven't seen her around lately."

  Ullin looked at him with more insight in his concerned expression than was comfortable for Robby.

  "Hm. That's too bad. I hope she is getting along all right," he said. Before he could say more, Mirabella took over.

  "Here. Sit. I've got some leftover breakfast pie, baked just this morning, and I have put with it some slices of ham. There's a plate for starters. Here's some hot coffee. A jug of cold apple juice. And here is a bowl of strawberries. There's more of everything, so eat to your fill."

  "This is quite enough, and more." Ullin sat and looked around the table where no other plates were set. "But what of you?"

  "Oh, we have already had our breakfast," she replied. "I'll see what I can do about that filthy cloak," she said as she left the room.

  Robby felt a hand on his shoulder and saw his father motioning him aside.

  "Son," he said. "I need ye to do a few things."

  "Yes, sir?"

  Mr. Ribbon took out a scrap of paper and handed it to Robby.

  "I need ye to watch the store whilst Ullin's here. An' I need ye to put these things together for him. The best stuff, top drawer. An' pack the pouches full an' tight solid, an' all. Only in the amounts I've written, an' no more."

  "I understand."

  "Lemme know as soon as yer finished an' ready for me to check it."

  Robby looked at the list then back into the kitchen at Ullin.

  "Off ye go, son. An' don't ye let on that anybody's here 'cept us Ribbonses, lessin ye must."

  "Yes, sir."

  Once more, Robby felt he was being put out of the way, so to speak, of the information he dearly wanted. As he began looking for the things on the list, his curiosity grew more intense. It was as if it had been building up for years and years, with no way out. Anyway you looked at it, he should have been away from Passdale years ago, getting his schooling at Glareth and then traveling about on trading business. As it was, at twenty-one, he would be older than most of the applicants at the Glareth Academy, and would be older, still, when he graduated. The delays were vexing, but he knew they could not be helped. The store, their livelihood, must come first, and his father's travels had been necessary. As impatient as Robby was, he understood how things were, and made the best of things. But there was so much he did not know about the world, especially that which lay beyond Passdale and Barley, and he was anxious to get on with learning about other places. Now, with Ullin's sudden appearance, he was face to face with a potential fulfillment of his curiosity, but instead he was thwarted at every turn from satisfying it. He could almost hear his father's voice telling him that he was too young to understand that to satisfy one's curiosity, one must often let other longings remain unsatisfied, that the path to one is sometimes the path away from another.

  At the moment, Robby's path was clearly in the bins and drawers, shelves and jars of the shop he had always known. Over the years, since he was eight or nine, whenever helping his father stock, he had mentally noted where things were from, or else he had asked his father. After a while, he understood that more than half of all the things in the shop came from places he had never been; indeed, the world of Passdale and County Barley was very small. As a lad, he wrote down the names of those places, even making copies of the ledger books. But, in his copies, instead of amounts and values, he put place names, and, if he knew or could find out, the distances and direction from Passdale to those places. Once, he took his list to schoolmaster Broadweed, hoping he could show them to Robby on a map.

  "Well, I have a few old maps here," the scholar told him. "But don't you know that your father has better maps than any man within thirty leagues of here? And for a man who's rarely been more than that distance from Passdale, he probably knows more than anyone in these parts about, well, about other parts. And your mother knows even more."

  That was indeed a surprise to Robby. Certainly the boy had seen the maps and charts, but he somehow did not realize they were real. Later, when Robby asked his father about them, and when Robby showed his list, his father was amazed at the boy.

  "Well! I never did see a list like this un here!" he said, scratching his head. He looked at Robby, and laughed. "I reckon it's time yer ol' man gave ye some lessins, eh?" And night after night, they had pored over the maps, with father telling son all he knew about every place on the maps, which was not all that much aside from where things were made and a few stories he had picked up. Even then, there were many things in the shop from places not on the maps, and Mr. Ribbon was hard pressed to figure out where on the maps to point. So Robby copied the maps in his own young hand, and made notes right on the maps, such a
s:

  Bransondale—good pottery

  Millsin Fork—flint

  Tilderry—linen

  Dirkshire—cheese, soft white

  Barsonfar—cheese, hard yellow

  Tallinvale—glass, clear and blue-green

  From those youthful days to now, it never occurred to Robby to ask his father where he got those maps. Perhaps more irksome at the moment, Robby had not yet seen even a fraction of the places he had charted. Now, as he pulled down a blanket and put it on the table, he said, "Lowbough," which was where it was woven. He reached for a vial of ointment, "Umston," and a block of oilwood, "Chawbree," and turned to prepare a couple of pouches of tobacco. "Bessinton," he said as he picked up the pouches, and "Farbarley," as he opened the keg.

  A short time later, Mirabella came downstairs and saw him standing before a table, list in hand, going over the things he had laid out there. He pointed at each item, looking at the list, saying, "Bessinton, Passdale, Hazleton," and so on while his mother watched silently from the stairway. She let him continue until he had checked everything on the list. When he put the paper down, she approached.

  "It appears you have gathered bits from the whole of the Eastlands and beyond," she smiled. Robby looked at her and then around the room.

  "I suppose," he said. "But most of Eastlands' bits will stay here."

  "Including yourself?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I know restlessness when I see it," she said mildly. "And I know how disappointed you are that you have not already gone to Glareth and out into the world."

  "I try not to let it show," Robby said.

  "It doesn't show all that much," she answered. "You are remarkably patient for someone your age, and for someone who has been kept from the things he desires. Billy's mother tells me that he is progressing with his studies fairly well, and I have no doubt that you'll be at the Academy in Glareth in time for the spring exams."

  Robby just looked at her, shaking his head, and was about to say something when she nodded and touched his hand.

  "Your father needs you," she said. "Go ahead. I'll finish this."