The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  Bosk turned in his saddle and nodded at Sheila.

  "Lucky for us to run into ye, with yer friend an' her bow an' quiver!" he said. "Pro'bly saved a few of us."

  "Sheila has a knack for showing up just when you need her," Robby said.

  "Oh?"

  "Yes, sir," Robby went on. "And she is not afraid of wolves, either."

  "Wolves?"

  "Robby had something of a run-in with a pack of 'em," Billy explained.

  "Wolves? In Barley?" Bosk shook his head. "They must be comin' out of the Boggy Wood. Wolves! An' raiders! Not good!"

  "Yes, sir," Robby went on. "I probably saw two hundred or more."

  "Robby!" Sheila hissed. Robby suddenly realized that he might have to explain more of how he escaped the wolves, and he remembered Ashlord's admonishment to keep certain things quiet. "Well," he stammered. "Maybe not that many."

  "Two or two hunnerd's too many either way!" Bosk declared. "An if I warn't so relieved to see ye alive, ye little brat," he shot at Billy, "I'd beat the tarnation out of ye. As it is, yer Mum nearly beat it out of me for lettin' ye out of me sight."

  "Well, somebody had to look for Robby!" Billy fired back. "We couldn't just leave 'im, could we? I knew ye'd not spare the men right off."

  "I'll not gainsay yer loyalty to yer friends. Not in front of 'em, anyways," Bosk said, nodding at Robby. "But thar's yer family to think of, too."

  "Yes, sir, I know."

  "An' draggin' Ibin along with ye!"

  "Oh, I, Isnuckout, ohIsnuckoutanfollowedBilly!" Ibin said proudly. "I toldhimI'd, Itoldhim, ItoldhimI'dwakeyouupifhedidn't, ifhedidn't, I'dwakeyouupifhedidn'tletmecomewithhim."

  "I bet!"

  "He did!" Billy protested.

  "Oh, no! Wait!" Robby exclaimed, tugging on his reins and coming to a sudden halt. "What about Ashlord?"

  "What about him?" Sheila asked as the rest came to a stop.

  "That one that got away," Robby pointed back down the road. "The only way for him to go is east. He can't go west very far because of the flooded Weepingbrook and the bridge being out there. This Line Road goes north then turns west and must be flooded out at the Weepingbrook ford, too. And surely he won't come back this way. That only leaves east. Toward Tulith Attis. We should warn Ashlord!"

  "How do ye perpose to do that?" Billy said. "We'd never reach thar in time."

  "And why?" Sheila asked.

  "Why?" asked Robby, gaping at her incredulously. "That fellow's liable to do anything!"

  "Nobody can get close to Ashlord without him knowin' 'bout it well beforehand," Sheila calmly said. Mr. Bosk chuckled and Robby shot him a look of dismay.

  "Now, now," he said to Robby. "It's only that it'd be better for that scoundrel if he avoids Haven Hill! Ashlord's the kinda feller that ain't likely to be taken unawares. The kind that's never seen lest he wants to be seen, if ye take me meanin'."

  "I'm not sure that I do," answered Robby.

  "Come along, now. We've got wounded," Bosk said reining his horse back around. "What I mean to say is, that Ashlord feller's pro'bly been in more fights, I reckon, than all us put together—leavin' out Billy, of course—an' he can take care of hisself."

  "How do you mean?" Robby asked, prodding his mount up next to Mr. Bosk.

  "Alls I mean is that he's done his share of soldierin', an' other kinds of fightin' asides that," Bosk said. "A queer kind of feller, maybe, but upright, I do believe. I wouldn't want to be the one to cross him the wrong way."

  "Well, how come he lives out yonder all by hisself?" Billy asked from the other side of Mr. Bosk. "I mean, what's he do out thar?"

  "Looks at the stars, for all I know," Bosk retorted. "Why don't ye ask Miss Sheila? She's been out thar with him, ain't she?"

  "You knew all along where I was?" Sheila piped up from behind.

  "Naw, not all along," Bosk said. "Frizella's got her secrets, for sure. Only some ain't so secret as she may think! But I'll not be the one to let 'em out of the bag, so to speak. No, no! Not if I want to keep me ears from gettin' boxed off!"

  "Well, anyway," Billy broke in, "we already tried with Sheila. She's no good for askin' 'bout Ashlord."

  "Well, ye just better ask him yerself the next time ye sees him, is all I'll say!"

  "Whenever that may be!" said Robby. "I just hope he'll be all right. I owe him my life."

  "I'm sure he'll be just fine," Bosk repeated.

  "Less talk and more moving," Sheila scolded. "Or your man is going to bleed to death!"

  They picked up the pace, cleared the woods, and soon were into the open country of Boskland proper. Everywhere the flood damage was apparent. The violence of the storm began to dawn on Robby as he saw knocked-down corn stalks, many uprooted fruit trees, and the widespread erosion caused by the washing storm. In several places the road was deep with mire, and a stone bridge had water streaming around both sides of it, so full and broad was the once-tiny brook that normally ran barely noticed underneath. Twice they had to leave the road and wade carefully through soggy fields because of uprooted trees that blocked the way. Billy pointed to a great oak, or the remnants of one, standing alone on a hill, its limbs burned to a crisp.

  "I saw lightnin' hit that tree four nights ago," Billy said. "We was workin' the field over yonder, tryin' to build a dike. Most awesomest thing I ever saw. Plumb lit up with far an' burnin' limbs, all flyin' way up through the sky, an' bits an' pieces of it fallin' like rain, 'cept all smokin' an' such. Three of our men flat ran away at the sight of it, but not Ibin er me! Did we, Ibin?"

  "No, we, wehad, wehadtoomuch, wehadtoomuchworktodo," Ibin said.

  Robby noticed that Ibin kept his eyes down at the road, and he concluded that the gentle fellow was bothered by the severed heads, too.

  As they rounded a bend, they could see someone riding to them with the spare mounts Mr. Bosk had requested. Behind them trailed a stocky little pony, all on its own, gingerly flinging its mane in anticipation.

  "Bucky!" cried Ibin, joyfully squirming from his saddle, nearly knocking Billy off as he went. Ibin ran to meet the pony, who obligingly tossed his head and neighed in greeting and even gave a little dance-like step. Soon Ibin was on the pony's back, and together they turned toward Bosk Manor well ahead of the rest, Ibin's legs bowed so that he could get his toes into the stirrups that quite nearly dragged the ground as they went jauntily along.

  "How that wee creature can bear the weight of him, I'll never guess!" Bosk shook his head in wonder. "But Bucky'll have nobody on his back 'cept Ibin, an' that's the truth of it! How else d'ye think he got his name?"

  With Ibin happily leading the way, and soon nearly out of sight, and others of the group, including Billy and Sheila, receiving new mounts, the rest of the way passed more quickly. Robby, still on Bandit, asked what would become of Starhart's mount.

  "Oh, I dunno," Bosk reflected. "I reckon we'd better try an' get him to the Post Station up at Janhaven. I dunno if ol' Bandit belongs to Starhart, or if he's a Post mount."

  "I think he's a Post mount," Robby offered.

  "Well, anyway, we'll see to it, regardless," Bosk said. "I only wish I knew what became of Bobby. What with these raiders about, more's the worry."

  Robby nodded, recalling what Ullin said about post rider Starhart being missing. But he had not been present while his parents and Ullin speculated on Starhart's disappearance because he had to go take care of Ullin's horse.

  "Well, I guess we know who crossed Mr. Starhart," he offered. "And I suppose the worst is what we should assume."

  "Yep. I reckon so," Bosk nodded, glancing behind them to make a check on the group. "Yer dad tells me that yer cousin, Ullin, has gone an' took up post ridin'," Bosk said, as if reading Robby's thoughts. "An' yer dad also told how he sent ye up to the Hill, so as Ullin wouldn't need to go."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, that was mighty brave of ye," Bosk said. "Not many folks'll go out that way. Not with all them tales, of course, an' not since them murders, an' all."
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  "What murders?" Robby asked.

  "Oh, get on!" Billy said. "Ye mean to say ye don't know 'bout all that?"

  Robby shook his head.

  "Well, ain't much to tell," Bosk said. "It whar years ago. Afore Ashlord took up out yonder. I was doin' the Thursday Line Ride. I always ride the Line Road on Thursdays, even today. Me ol' man an' a couple other fellers an' me all rode out together to ride the Line, then to duck down the west way over Weepingbrook to Passdale an' get a few things. Anyways, we come up on the Gate an' looks out toward the fortress an' sees all these buzzards circlin'. Well, naturally, me ol' man would have nuthin' but to go look-see, so we rides out yonder toward the Hill. Ye know them two barrows that the road cuts between?"

  "Right before you get to the fortress? Yes, I do," Robby replied.

  "Well, back then thar whar a gang of good-for-nuthin' Farbarley boys who liked nuthin' better than causin' trouble, waylayin' folks on the road, all sorts of mischief. Mostly petty stuff, but they whar mean. Anyhow, whar nine of 'em. They took it into thar heads to dig into them barrows an' to see what they'd find. They got 'bout four er five yards in the side of the north un, up on the far side."

  Bosk went silent for a moment, and Robby looked over at Billy who was staring at his father in rapturous awe of the story. Robby guessed that Billy had probably heard it a hundred times before.

  "Well," Billy said. "Tell Robby the rest of it!"

  Bosk nodded, looking straight up the road as he went on.

  "We found all nine of 'em. Throats cut, ever' single one. Not even one sign of a fight or nuthin'. Ever' last one just like the next. Four were brothers. The youngest only twelve years! Not a one over eighteen."

  "What happened?" Robby asked.

  "What d'ya mean?"

  "I mean, who did it?"

  "Some say the Faere spirits buried in them barrows did it. Others that it whar the ghosts of the Dragon Men what died thar," Mr. Bosk said. "But some hold it whar some other band of thieves what came on 'em."

  "You mean to say nobody knows?"

  "Yep, that's right. Oh, thar was one feller folks suspected of the deed. One what hung with them boys at the tavern a good bit in them days. But nuthin' came of it. An' anyways, that feller's dead now, too. Done in by uncanny foul play, like them others."

  Mr. Bosk gave Robby a knowing glance, then dipped his head toward Sheila. At Robby's puzzled look, Mr. Bosk nodded.

  "How 'bout that!" Billy said, nodding in a triumphant manner. "I'd forgotten all 'bout it, else I most likely would of stayed home."

  "Right whar ye belong, ye little rapscallion!" Bosk barked at Billy. "If I warn't so glad yer alive, I'd make ye wish ye warn't for worryin' yer mum so!"

  Robby's thoughts wandered through the recent events, and a wave of dizziness quickly shot through his head. He remembered the odd feeling he had when walking between the two mounds, and now, with all that had happened, he was in no mood to dismiss anything out of hand. It was the first time he had heard the story, and Mr. Bosk could mean no other than Steggan, Sheila's uncle. The dizzy spell passed, and he realized he had been shaking with fright, probably ever since Ashlord left them, and he felt a little feverish, too. One inadvertent look ahead, catching a glimpse of those piked heads, sent a wave of nausea through him that he barely controlled. His head felt little better than his stomach, as it was pounding with fret, bewilderment, and wonder over all the things that had happened since he left home a few days ago.

  "What next?" he thought to himself. "Dragon People, wolves, a haunted fortress, and, now, murders!" He felt embroiled in some plot beyond his comprehension and surrounded with violence and threat on every side. The enigmatic Sheila and the more enigmatic Ashlord he somehow explicitly trusted, but Robby now had a wariness that made him nervous. "I've always been a fairly easygoing fellow," he mused silently as they negotiated another new spring across the roadway. "Maybe a little deception now and then, more faults of omission than lying, in order to stay out later at feast days than I should have, or sneaking out of my bedroom window to see Sheila. But I never neglected my schoolwork or chores, and I've never stolen anything or cheated. And any fights I got into were not of my making. Why on earth has all this happened to me?" He felt a certain pang of being manipulated, and he did not like the sensation. He could not help feeling somewhat herded along like a stupid cow, goaded, led, or prodded along a path beyond his understanding. The story of those murders only added to his sense of dread.

  "How long has Ashlord been living out at Tulith Attis?" Robby asked.

  "Oh, let me think. I believe he first took up out thar 'bout two or three years after the incident with them murders," Bosk said thoughtfully. "It whar after me ol' man died, 'cause Ashlord came to deliver some letters to him from Duinnor, an' I took 'em. One of the letters whar a writ from Duinnor to show that the Hill an' its boundaries whar to be in the care of Ashlord, an' that he was to be the sole authority of law on the Hill an' answerable only to the King, an' all that. Very official-like. I remember it whar the first time I used the Bosk seal, 'cause I had to send an acknowledgement back to Duinnor. I didn't have the seal, see, 'til me ol' man died. That was in 859. Ashlord left for a few years, then he come back 'bout five or six years ago, I believe. Maybe it's been longer than that."

  They continued on, Billy and his father turning their talk to all of the storm damage as they passed field workers trying to salvage a crop of late corn, mostly mashed down by wind and rain. Soon they were passing under the arch of Boskland Manor where Bosk ordered that the severed heads were to be mounted on the arch pikes. He then ordered the bodies taken aside and burned as soon as dry wood could be stacked. The rest of them rode on, passing the now dismal inner gardens that Mrs. Bosk so tenderly kept. Ahead rose the sprawling three-story Bosk House with its red brick walls and its high gables. Mrs. Bosk rushed out as soon as they were within the yard, pulling the wounded down from their mounts and helping them indoors while other folk thronged out to see the remains of the intruders and to hear their laird's report.

  "Come along Master Ribbon!" Mrs. Bosk called back to Robby as he dismounted. "I'll be having a look at ye."

  "Oh, I'm fine," Robby answered back.

  "Oh, I'm sure ye are. I'll be lookin' at ye all the same."

  "Better do as she says," Mr. Bosk said. "We'll have ye home soon enough."

  As soon as she had seen that those worse off were well-tended, Mrs. Bosk came to fetch Robby into her large kitchen, Sheila having told her about his recent wounds. The kitchen was where she did most of her business, even though she was the lady of the house and did not need to be there at all if she did not want to be. But she never let anyone forget that she once was a kitchen servant herself—as if anyone could forget that—and that nobody was too good for her kitchen, or not good enough. She sat Robby down in a chair beside a worktable and pulled up a chair in front of him. Before he could protest, and talking all the while so that he could not, she had his coat and shirt off and was unbinding his wounds while he held his arms high to allow it.

  "So ye had a run-in with some wolves, eh? Well, they's nasty critters! An' ye can't be too careful with bites from the likes of them. So hold still whilst I take a look. Ow, that's gotta hurt somethin' terrible!"

  "Oh, it's not too bad," Robby said, wincing as she undid the last of the bandaging.

  "Well, somebody's done some good tendin' already, I see. Some festerin' was here, but well on the mend. Was it that Ashlord?"

  "Yes, and Sheila."

  "An' Sheila? Well, they did right, I see. A good poultice. Nice, clean. Yer gonna have some scars, can't be helped. Turn 'round an' lemme see yer side. That's good. Hm. Sit down while I get some clean bandages. I expect ye were purty surprised to see Sheila out yonder?"

  "Yes, I was," Robby said. Mrs. Bosk brought over a pot of steaming water and put it on the table. She then pulled a bottle of murky liquid down from the shelf. "I didn't know what had happened to her. But I should have figured that if she was in tr
ouble that she'd come to you."

  Raenelle, Billy's older sister, then came charging into the kitchen.

  "Mother," she exclaimed, appearing a bit exasperated, "Daddy and Sheila want to put Geever into the guest room. Oh! Hello, Robby."

  "Hello, Raenelle."

  "I'm sorry to burst in on you," she said, tossing her black hair over her shoulders. "Mother, we'll have to move Mr. Landers and his wife out."

  "Go tell Sheila to put Geever into Billy's room, Raenelle. I'll be up an' see to him shortly."

  "Yes, Mother."

  "An' get out of that smock in into somethin' ye can work in, girl!"

  "Yes, Mother."

  Raenelle frowned and departed, still eyeing Robby and his wounds as she left.

  "That girl's been far too prideful since she got back from school in Colleton," Frizella said as she turned back to her work. "Mr. Bosk wants her to be a proper lady, if at all possible. An' I reckon I do, too. Still, she pitched right in durin' the storm, like any good Bosk. Now. What was I sayin'?"

  Frizella carefully poured some of the steaming water into a smaller bowl and put the pot back onto the stove.

  "Oh, yes. I reckon I should've sent ye word," she sighed as she poured some of the tincture from the small bottle into the bowl of hot water and dipped a rag into it. "Hold still whilst I do a little cleanin'. This'll sting, some. Yes, I thought about it. I saw the two of ye together a few times. I saw the two of ye fishin' down at Otter's Pond one time. Another time when I was goin' down to Passdale, I seen ye sittin' under a tree in a field over on Day's farm. I think ye were readin' to Sheila out of a book."

  "Oh," Robby said, somewhat embarrassed. "Well, we'd go there sometimes, and I'd try to help her with her reading some."

  "I see," Mrs. Bosk nodded as she carefully wiped dried blood from Robby's side with the moist cloth. "An' she'd help ye with yer fishin'?"