The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  Upstairs, Robby found Ullin and his father at the kitchen table. Mr. Ribbon was leaning back in his chair watching Ullin finish a bit of ham.

  "Ah, Robby," Ullin said, picking up his napkin and wiping his mouth and beckoning him closer with his other hand.

  "Son, have a sit," Mr. Ribbon said. "Ullin wants to ask ye somethin'."

  Robby noted a seriousness in his father's tone, a kind of business tone he got sometimes, and he knew something was afoot.

  "You know your way around these parts?" Ullin asked.

  "Pretty well," Robby sat down, noticing a small parcel under Ullin's left elbow on the table beside his plate. "I mean, yes."

  "Do you know the place called Tulith Attis?" Ullin asked. "The old abandoned fortress?"

  Robby's pulse quickened at the name.

  "That's its name in the Ancient Speech," Mr. Ribbon said before Robby could respond. "In Barley, we call it Haven Hill."

  "Oh. Yes, of course. That's the ancient name of the hill that Tulith Attis stands upon," Ullin nodded. "Well, Robby, you know the place then?"

  "Yes. I mean, I know of the place," he said. "I've seen it from a distance."

  That was true, and Robby hoped it would suffice, for it was also true that he had seen it up close.

  "Ye have, have ye?" his father asked.

  "Why, yes, sir. A few years ago, Billy and I took horses from his place and rode along the Line Road, and we could see it from the road."

  Robby hoped that he would not be pressed on the matter, for he did not want to tell the whole truth of the disastrous outing. It could have easily been worse, but for a lucky bit of soft ground that saved Robby from broken bones when his spooked horse threw him. As it was, he and Billy spent the best part of the day trying to round up the errant mount. After that misadventure, he made a vow to himself that he would never go anywhere near the old fortress again. Divulging the details now, after all this time, would only disappoint his trusting father.

  "Hrumph!" was all Mr. Ribbon said in reply, but he probably would have said more if company had not been present.

  "So you could find your way there?" Ullin asked, wondering why Mr. Ribbon seemed irritated at the boy. "To Haven Hill?"

  "Well, at least as far as the North Line is easy enough, especially from here. And there's a path that leads off from there toward the place, if I recall."

  "Well, good, then." Ullin picked up the packet, wrapped in leather and bound with a small lead seal. "This is for a man who lives out that way. His cottage is on the ridge on the side of the Hill, not far from the fortress. His name is Ashlord."

  "Oh, I know him!" Robby said. Something was up, and he was quickly becoming involved in it, which was much to his liking. He checked himself and went on casually, "I meant to say, I know who he is. I've only had a few words with him. He comes in two or three times a season, for herbs mostly, some oil, or salt, and various little things. Strange man, if you pardon my saying so. Strange looking, tall, long black hair and beard. Dresses funny, too, not like most Barley folk. Never says much, but is polite enough. And he always pays with silver flats. Do you want me to show you the way out there?"

  Ullin and Mr. Ribbon looked at each other and then back at Robby.

  "No, I believe I could find my way without much trouble, but my business takes me elsewhere sooner than I would wish and in a somewhat different direction," Ullin explained. "I was delayed in getting this far. If I am to make my destination on time, I cannot go to Tulith Attis. I know it is just a short way off my path, but my appointment in Colleton cannot wait. Even a few hours may make all the difference."

  Robby looked at him in disappointment. It would have been great fun to be Ullin's guide for a day.

  "Ullin wants us to make the deliv'ry for him, son," Mr. Ribbon put in. Robby's heart lifted, again. "But I must stay at the store, an' the deliv'ry won't wait, so we're askin' ye if ye can take charge of this."

  Robby looked back and forth, then broke into a grin.

  "Sure! Why not? I mean," he suddenly faltered, remembering they were talking about Haven Hill. "I mean...do you mean me? By myself?"

  "I wouldn't ask ye to go whar thar's any danger, er anythin'. Ye know that. It's just that it's a long way out an' back."

  "And it cannot wait," Ullin added. "You must go today."

  "Thar ain't a horse to be had at the stables, what with them all bein' used by Greardon this week. So it'll be on foot for ye," Mr. Ribbon continued. "Which means ye'll not be back afore dark, even if ye left right away."

  Robby's mind raced over everything he knew about Haven Hill, the legends told about it, tales of ghosts and other frightful creatures that disturbed the place, and the great battle that had occurred there ages ago. And some kind of curse that lay upon its summit, at least according to Billy Bosk's mother. But he could not remember any details, only that there were legends about it, and that Billy's mum did say that it was a cursed place. That had been part of the attraction of the place, why he and Billy ventured out there that day. Now, recalling how his horse had thrown him for no apparent reason, he tried to look calm, but he found himself swallowing hard and clearing his throat to speak. He noticed his mother standing in the doorway, listening and looking on, her forehead wrinkled with concern. When her eyes met Robby's, she gave him an odd, almost searching look, but she said nothing.

  "Well," Robby said at last, turning back to Ullin, "I'd best be on my way, then."

  "Are ye sure, son?"

  Ullin glanced back and forth from Mr. Ribbon to Robby.

  "I have asked too much," he said. "There is a look upon both your faces that tells me there is more to what I ask than I know."

  "No, no! Not at all," Robby shook his head. "I want to go. And the moon is full tonight so the way home will be well lit. I'll make the delivery to Ashlord and be on my way back well before dark. I shouldn't be out very late if I leave soon."

  Robby looked at his father.

  "I'd go with ye, except I got word the Nor'wick wagon's comin' today, an' I must be here an' check the shipment," Mr. Ribbon said. "An' it'd take too long to go by way of Boskland to pick up yer friend Billy to accompany ye."

  For a moment, Robby almost thought—and almost wished—his father would either say no or else arrange to come along. But there was something hopeful in his father's expression. In spite of his reservations, Robby nodded confidently.

  Mr. Ribbon returned the nod, smiling, then turned to Ullin. "Robby will take care of it. Just as ye wish, Ullin Saheed."

  • • •

  Ullin's horse was brought around within the half-hour, and, during that time, Robby changed clothes, put on his walking boots, laced them tight, and prepared a shoulder bag of things: a small brass folding candle-lamp with a glass lens, a spare candle, flint and steel, and his order book and pencil.

  "You never know," he thought. "Ashlord might want to place an order to pick up the next time he comes to town."

  He put everything into his bag beside the special parcel he was to deliver, and stuffed a lightweight, hooded cloak in, too. Robby hurried out into the hall, looking for Ullin, wanting to ask a thousand questions, but there was simply no time. Anyway, Ullin was saddling his horse and preparing his bags, and Mr. Ribbon insisted that Robby look over a map of County Barley with him.

  "This is whar yer goin'," Mr. Ribbon said to Robby, putting his finger on a blot near the edge of the map. "It is only a league or so from the north line here. An' if ye go this way, along the east-west path ye'll come to Oldgate soon enough. Ye'll first pass through some farmland, on along past Steggan's old place, an' on over the Weepingbrook, a shallow stream right along here. Keep on an' not far is Oldgate. Can't miss it. That's whar ye'll run into the Line Road, runnin' north an' south, right here, see? Goin' on through the gate will put ye on the old east road, just a path, now. Mr. Bosk told me awhile back that he think's thar's been plenty of comin' an' goin' since the path stays clear from troddin' through summer grass an' winter snow, though they ain't s
een nobody. Probably that Ashlord feller walkin' it. Anyhow, ye should have no trouble stayin' to it. See, it goes fairly straight on to Haven Hill, on across the barren fields whar a town was, long time ago. The path keeps goin', right between two old barrow-mounds. It turns just this side of the Hill an' winds back 'round the northern side an' on 'round it. Here's the thing, son: I don't know exactly whar Ashlord lives, but I think it is on the low side of the hill, which is the furthest south an' east. Along the way must be another path or trail leadin' off to his place.

  "Now, listen," he gave his son a firm look, "I want to tell ye to go no further than Haven Bridge. If ye pass by the hill an' ye get to an old stone bridge, ye've gone too far. Promise me this: If ye reach the bridge an' ye see no sign of that Ashlord feller, or his place, turn straight back. On the way back have another look, but don't dawdle. The road ends at the bridge, an' it's too easy to get lost on the other side, in what's called the Boggy Wood. Them woods is a bad place, tangled an' full of twists, turns, an' all manner of beasts. A hunnerd men with axes couldn't hack thar way through it in a year, I'd say, an' more likely to get lost, anyhow. Will ye turn back at the bridge?"

  "Yes."

  "An' if ye don't see no other way that might lead off to Ashlord's, ye'll come straight back, deliv'ry er no deliv'ry, the way ye came."

  "Yes."

  "Good." Mr. Ribbon rolled up the map and offered it to Robby. "Do ye want to take this along?"

  "No. I think I'll be fine without it. Besides, unless we have a carrying tube for it, I'd have to fold it up. I know it's too valuable for that."

  "Not as valuable as ye are."

  "Maybe, but I don't think I'll need the map," Robby reiterated. "And it's one less thing to carry."

  "Well, alright, then," his father nodded. "Just one er two more quick things, an' once again listen close to me."

  "Yes, sir?"

  "We've all heard them stories told 'bout Haven Hill," he said. Robby nodded. "Now, some of them stories ain't nuthin', but some of the other, well, some stories are true, in some manner. Leastwise, I believe them to be."

  "Which ones are true?"

  "A great battle was fought thar, hunnerds of years ago. I've seen the books that it's written in, ye've pro'bly seen 'em, too, an yer mum can tell ye more, since her people run back all the way to them times. Billy's folk do, too, an' Billy's namesake died thar, so they say."

  As he spoke, Mr. Ribbon went over to the other side of the room and pulled a small chest from under a table and brushed aside some old and dusty ledger books.

  "I know them stories to be true, son, 'bout the battle, I mean. Even though a lot of the what's an' why's been long forgotten by most folks 'round these parts. But take a look at this."

  He rummaged in the chest and pulled out a small bundle of cloth. Untying the bundle, Mr. Ribbon removed some old corroded bits of metal, the largest piece about the size and shape of a terribly banged up bowl.

  "What's that?"

  "Hold up yer hand like a fist."

  Robby followed the instructions and held up his fist, as if he was showing off his biceps. Mr. Ribbon took the heavy bowl-like piece and carefully put it on top of Robby's fist, upside down, it seemed.

  "An' hold this other piece right here, like so," Mr. Ribbon said, putting another small piece in Robby's other hand so that it jutted down from the inverted rim. "Hold it right thar." Mr. Ribbon took two more pieces, rather flat and held them one to each side of the bowl.

  "What do ye see?"

  Robby turned his head back and forth, still holding the little piece as he was shown. Suddenly he saw it.

  "A helmet! It looks like an old helmet! That's the nose guard, and those are side pieces. Or what's left of them."

  "That is exactly right!"

  The two of them stood there, each holding their pieces so that Robby could continue to look at the assembly.

  "I found this out at Haven Hill when I was a lad," Mr. Ribbon took the pieces and put them on the table. "An' I found this, too."

  He pulled out another small wad of soft cloth and unfolded it in his hand to reveal a small round object, no more than four acorns wide, like a small brooch. It was gold and enameled with green and blue, and studded with a white gem encircled by seven tiny rubies. On one end was part of a metal loop where once a chain had passed.

  "An', behold," Mr. Ribbon put his thumbnail against one edge and it opened. Inside, tied in a tiny intricate knot, was a lock of golden hair. Oddly, the room became cool as Robby felt some deep sadness flow through him. He felt as though he was falling into the locket, swirling through time, to a distant age and a faraway day when this locket was tenderly assembled and held close, perhaps in a moment of loneliness, or perhaps fear.

  "Oh, Daddy!" Robby whispered in astonishment, tearing his eyes from it to look at Mr. Ribbon as he rubbed the goose bumps from his arms. "You found this on Haven Hill?"

  "Very nearby, when I was not much younger than yerself, whilst helpin' to clear some rocky land out on the other side of Bosk Manor," Mr. Ribbon said, gently closing it up and folding it back into the cloth. "I'm told soldiers still wear lockets such as this, to remind them of home an' sweethearts."

  Robby nodded, remembering the locket he saw dangling from Ullin's neck. Mr. Ribbon put everything away, and pushed the chest under the table. "I've often thought I should've left 'em as I found 'em, an' I thought one day to put 'em back."

  "Why?"

  "I dunno, son," Mr. Ribbon shrugged. "I get this funny feelin' sometimes, when I think on it, that they were meant to be found, somehow, an' somethin' done with 'em. Somethin' proper-like. But maybe not by me. I dunno who. It upsets yer mother that I've got these things. But she's no clearer than me on what to do with 'em."

  He waved his hand in the air as if fanning away smoke. "Never mind all that, though. I showed ye these things to let ye know, as ye have a right to, that somethin' happened out thar, long time ago. Hunnerds of years ago, as some puts it. So while ye can leave off believin' monster stories an' the like, just ye know that sometimes thar might be some speck of true out of what people grow thar tales, like seed that with a lotta waterin' an' sun years after years come up to be a great tree, spreadin' more seeds an' more, 'til the one thing seen ain't no more like what started out than a pebble to a mountain, yet mountains be made of pebbles, if ye catch me meanin'. So when I tells ye to be careful out yonder, it ain't for the likes of ghosts an' other such silly whatnots, but more for the likes of men an' beasts, an' for watchin' yer step. An' be respectful of that ground out thar, since so many are said to have died thar."

  "Yes, sir. I will," Robby said. "But when I get back I think I'll have a lot more questions."

  Mr. Ribbon laughed. "An' I reckon it's about time ye did!"

  When father and son came downstairs, Ullin was giving Mirabella a last hug. She kissed him on the cheek, and he turned to lift the bundle prepared for him from the table. She turned to Robby.

  "Take these, too," she said. She put bread, sausage, and cheese, along with a small knife on a piece of cloth alongside a water flask and was beginning to roll it up within the cloth when Mr. Ribbon spoke.

  "Hang on, dearie," he said, picking up the knife. "Lemme get Robby a better one."

  He turned to a case behind him and tried to open the lid.

  "Bother! Jammed again?" he grunted, prying at it with his fingers. "Robby, could ye see if ye can open this dang thing?"

  Robby nodded and felt along the lid to see where it was hung, but it came open easily. Mr. Ribbon shook his head.

  "Don't know why I always have trouble with it, but ye never do!" he said. He took out a large knife in a sheath of embossed leather and handed it to Robby. "This here's more fit for a trip! Stick that in yer belt. Do ye have yer lamp?"

  "Yes, sir. And a spare candle with my flint and steel."

  "Good," Mr. Ribbon nodded. "But take this, too." He fished around on a shelf and picked up a small tin box. Inside was a glass vial containing a few firesticks
. Inside the lid of the box was a strike-plate. After checking the contents carefully he handed the tin to Robby.

  "Are you sure? I've got my flint."

  "Yes," Mr. Ribbon said. "No sense in wastin' time an' fumblin' 'round in the dark tryin' to start a far when alls ye need is to light up a candle. Just be careful with'em an' go sparingly if ye needs 'em. If ye keeps to the main road tonight, the moon'll most likely give ye enough light."

  Robby nodded and placed the precious item in a little pocket inside his shoulder bag. He stuffed the food bundle and water flask into the bag and slipped the knife under his belt.

  "All set," he said.

  "You have the parcel?" Ullin asked.

  Robby reached into his bag and produced it.

  "Good. I'll accompany you as far as the other side of the bridge."

  Then he gave Mr. Ribbon a hug and a handshake while Robby hugged his mother, saying, "I'll see you tonight."

  Robby shook his father's hand as they walked out of the store, and Mr. Ribbon patted him on the back.

  "You both be careful!" Mirabella ordered as Ullin strapped his bundle behind the saddle and took the reins, leading his horse alongside Robby.

  "I hope to see you about two months hence, maybe less!" Ullin called back.

  Mr. and Mrs. Ribbon watched them move off down the road.

  "I wonder how things will go when Robby gets to Ashlord's," Mirabella said.

  "I reckon we'll find out," her husband shrugged. "I'd be upset, if it was me. But we kept our word, as we promised. Hopefully, it'll all work out."

  When Robby and Ullin passed out of sight, they turned back into the store. Mr. Ribbon sat at his desk while Mirabella tidied the shelves. Some minutes later, Mr. Ribbon looked up from his ledger.

  "Dagummit!" he said. Mirabella looked over from the closet.

  "What is it?"

  "I should've asked Robby to take an order book." Catching his wife's sidelong look, he shrugged. "Well, ye never knows, but Ashlord might wanna put in an order for somethin'! Ye know, for the next time he's in town."

  "Oh, honey!"

  • • •