The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  This was loudly seconded by the others of the Passdale Militia.

  "Shut-up, ye smart-mouthed brat!" Mr. Bosk cried at his son.

  "Into ranks!" Ullin bellowed. "Form up for march!"

  His militiamen jumped at his shout, bumbling into each other, but, with much clanging of shields and muttering, they quickly got into marching formation.

  "Now, now!" Ashlord cried out, dropping the fizzling flare and stepping on it to put it out. "None are hurt. All are tested. And all have done well this night. Mr. Ribbon and I were already here when we sent the messages to each of you, and we were not going to permit a clash. If you want to defend your homeland, you had better get used to being inconvenienced by the homeland you serve."

  "Well, I never!" Mr. Bosk said angrily.

  "Ullin, is it not true that Kingsmen of Duinnor are trained an' tested this way?" Mr. Ribbon asked.

  "Well, yes," Ullin admitted. "It is true. We never know when we may be called, or whether it is a true alarm or a test by our commanders. As often one as the other."

  "Thar ye have it! Now go home all of ye with the pride that ye did yer part well," Mr. Ribbon ordered them. "I report to the council in the morrow evenin'. Have yer reports to me by then for any needs er problems er the like what needs fixin'. The next alarm raised may not end so bloodlessly, so remain alert!"

  Soon the Bosklanders were riding back the way they had come, grumbling as they went. Ashlord shook hands with Mr. Ribbon, then turned to Ullin.

  "A fine showing, Commander."

  "I think so, Collandoth. Will you be coming back to Passdale with us?"

  "Oh, no. I have my own business to attend to. Good night!"

  Ashlord turned and went the way of the Boskmen, quickly disappearing into the gloom. Soon the Passdale men were marching home as well, with Mr. Ribbon and Ullin leading the way. There was much mumbling and griping, but after a mile or so the talk died down since they were too tired to keep it up. The way was still dark, but the sky overhead continued to lighten as they trudged along. Robby worked his way up to the front, just as they neared the bridge, and listened in as his father and Ullin talked.

  "Aye," his father was saying when he came within earshot, "some bowmen on the heights would've been right handy, I'll warrant. 'Cept I'm glad no loose arrows whar flyin' tonight!"

  "We have bows and arrows enough," Ullin went on, "though I can't vouch for their sturdiness. I'm handy enough with them and can do some of the training, but I'd like to get Sheila back from Boskland to train our men."

  "I imagine it can be arranged. Meanwhile, thar's another thing what's come up."

  They passed the midpoint of the bridge, and Ullin looked up at the empty bridge tender's box.

  "We need to have a watch on this bridge at all times, Robigor," Ullin commented, interrupting Mr. Ribbon.

  "Oh? I suppose yer right. I'll look into it."

  "What is it that's come up? That you were about to mention?"

  "Oh, well. Thar's this festival comin' up, an' some folk are skittish 'bout leavin' home an' such to come to it. Thing is, we've got to do the Renewin', an' then thar's the Countin' an' so forth. What I'm leadin' up to is like this: I'm thinkin' that it'd be good for us to use the militia to patrol all over the county those days, Bosklanders an' Passdalers workin' together, like. Makin' up an' down the roads on foot an' horse. An' another group at the Wayford Common durin' the festival for keepin' order."

  "Sounds good to me," Ullin nodded. "An official assignment would be welcome after all this trickery, er, I mean, training."

  "Ha! Ha!" Mr. Ribbon laughed. "Good one! Well said. I'll see to the orders soon as can be. Meantime, I'll write out a request for Sheila to come back to Passdale. I know Mira has sorely missed her, an' others, too, I'm guessin'. Can ye have a dispatch rider by noon?"

  "Certainly."

  Robby thought for a moment that his father was referring to him. It would be good to see her again, even if it was in an official capacity.

  "Mr. Ribbon!" Ullin called back, not knowing that Robby was practically on his heels.

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Beat on ahead home and get some rest," Ullin ordered. "Then report to me at midmorning. Here, let me have your shield, helmet, and lance. I'll carry them back to the armoury."

  "Yes, sir! Daddy?"

  "Yes, son?"

  "I don't have my keys with me."

  "Oh, right. I'll come along, too," he said, handing the lantern to Billy. "Here, this belongs to the Common House."

  Robby called his goodbyes to his fellow militiamen as they came off the bridge, then father and son broke from the rest and made their way toward home. The town was quiet and peaceful, with only crickets and the gurgling of the mill brook breaking the silence. Few lights were on, and they strained to watch their steps on the unpaved road. Just as they passed the market they came within sight of the store and their home. A small lamp still burned in the parlor window upstairs—warm and welcoming, it seemed to Robby. Smiling, he looked ahead then shot his arm out at his father's shoulder to stop him.

  "What?"

  "Shh!" Robby hissed. "Hold up. Look up there ahead. Just in front of the store."

  Mr. Ribbon strained his eyes and then saw it, a huge shadow hovering in the road just in front of the store. A horse and rider, no, two horses. Instinctively, they crouched in the middle of the road, and Robby drew his sword slowly so as not to make it ring.

  "Look," Mr. Ribbon pointed. Robby saw another shadow move from around the side of the store, peering into the windows. In the dim light, it was difficult to see any details of the figure moving around the store or the one in saddle. Robby could see enough, though, to see that the horses were uneasy, and the one in the saddle twisted back and forth, apparently looking around.

  "Burglars?" Robby whispered.

  "I doubt it. Whoever heard of burglars standin' thar horses in the middle of the road?"

  "Makes sense for a quick getaway."

  "Hm. Right ye are, son."

  Suddenly, Robby stood up.

  "The store is closed!" he shouted, breaking into a run toward them. The horseman reined around to face the shout, as the other shadowy figure ran across the front porch and then out to take his horse. Robby caught a glimpse of a long cloak—reddish, he thought—as the horses wheeled around and were spurred away.

  "Halt! Halt!" Robby cried running after them, with his sword raised. As Robby made the front of the store, the air was filled with clods of dirt and the heavy thudding of horses galloping away in the opposite direction, the noise receding long after they had disappeared into the dark. Mr. Ribbon pulled up next to him, puffing. Seeing something light-colored at his feet, Robby picked up a scrap of paper, but could not see what, if anything, was written on it.

  "Daddy, open the door!" Robby urged. "We have to see about Mother!"

  After a moment of fumbling with the key, Mr. Ribbon finally got it into the lock and had trouble getting the old mechanism to work. Impatient, Robby pushed on the door, the lock sprang open, and they burst into the store, shouting.

  "Mira!"

  "Mother!"

  "Mira!"

  She emerged from the bedroom with a candle just as they were about to crash up the stairs.

  "My stars! Why all the noise? What's wrong?" she cried, seeing their faces.

  "Are you all right?" Robby asked.

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Have ye had any company?" Mr. Ribbon demanded.

  "No. What is wrong?"

  "Prowlers. Outside the store," Robby said.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. We scared 'em when we came along, an' they rode off," Mr. Ribbon explained.

  "Well, I'm fine, dear. You nearly frightened me to death roaring in like that!"

  "Oh, I'm so sorry, love." Mr. Ribbon took his wife into his arms tenderly. "Forgive me, but I was alarmed an' concerned after ye."

  "Of course, sweetness," Mirabella said.

  "I'll just go back down and lock up," Robby s
aid.

  "It's nearly time to open shop, though," she said.

  "I know," Robby called back as he descended the stairs. He lit a lamp and held it high, looking over the familiar tables and shelves for anything missing or out of place. All appeared normal. In a moment, his father came down, lit another lamp and did the same. Together, they circled the room and met at the front door, walking outside to look up and down the road.

  "Who do you think they were?" Robby asked. "Thieves?"

  "Well," Mr. Ribbon gazed down the road in the direction the riders fled. "I know yer mother's a light sleeper, an' any noise would've woke her right up."

  "You think they wanted to steal from the store?"

  "I dunno. If they wanted coin, they'd a needed us to show 'em," Mr. Ribbon said. "Maybe they wanted to come on us quiet, like, an' get at us whilst sleepin' all unawares so's we couldn't make an alarm."

  "Probably so," Robby nodded.

  "I guess the last thing they reckoned on was some crazy lunatic wavin' a sword an' hollerin' at 'em!"

  Robby could not help but chuckle with his father.

  "I guess not," he said. "Just couldn't help myself. It was pretty dumb, huh?"

  "That's fine by me!" Mr. Ribbon said, putting his arm around Robby's shoulders. "Plenty alright! What's on that paper ye picked up?"

  "Nothing much," Robby said, giving it to Mr. Ribbon. "Just a list of the names of places. Odd script, though."

  "Hm," Mr. Ribbon said, looking at the list of towns and villages throughout the Eastlands.

  "I guess it's time we got a dog."

  "I guess so. Why don't ye run on off to bed. I'll let Sheriff Fivelpont know 'bout all this first thing in the morning. Mira or I will rouse ye up in time to meet Ullin."

  • • •

  Mirabella woke Robby late morning and had a big breakfast ready for him. While he ate, his mother informed him that Mr. Ribbon was still out with the Sheriff, attempting to track down the prowlers of the night before.

  "I didn't hear a thing!" she said, slipping into a chair across the table from Robby. "Not until I heard you shouting."

  "What do you think they were after?" Robby said gulping his coffee. "I mean, I think they must have been after one of three things: Our strongbox, those old coins, or..."

  "Or what?"

  "Me."

  "You? You think they were His men?"

  "Maybe. Do they wear red cloaks?"

  "I don't know. Why?"

  "It was hard to tell in the dark, but I thought their capes or cloaks were reddish in color. Anyway, I wouldn't know His men from anybody else's," Robby shrugged. "Ashlord's concerned for my safety. He helped me talk Ullin into staying, to help with our militia, so that Ullin would be nearby to me."

  "I know, Robby. But if they were seriously after something, they would not have been so easily frightened away." Mirabella rose, picking up Robby's plate. "Maybe they were just travelers who needed something from the store. More bacon? Maybe they needed something, but were wary, since it was so late at night."

  "No, thanks. If that was the case, they could have answered me instead of riding off as fast as they could go. But what if they were burglars? What if they were after those old coins? Mrs. Starhart probably told plenty of people about them. She seemed quite the talkative lady, if you know what I mean. We ought to get rid of them, the coins, that is. Most folks around here probably know we loan out our money and keep very little around. So maybe we should make a show of getting rid of those coins, just in case."

  "Hm. Maybe."

  "Maybe I can take them up to Formouth one day. Or even on up to Glareth."

  Mirabella, at the sink, looked over her shoulder at Robby.

  "You'll be going to Glareth soon enough," she said. "Spring will be here before you know it, and you'll be off with Billy to the Academy. If we still have those coins, your father might ask you to take them along for trade. You aren't thinking of leaving sooner, are you?"

  "No. Well, only for the day! I've got to report to Ullin. And I'd better get going, too," Robby laughed, wiping his mouth with his napkin and bringing his plate to the sink. The doorbell rang, and he gave his mother a kiss and thanked her again for the breakfast before she went downstairs to look after the customer. Soon he was ready to go, and, on his way out, he made sure that his mother was comfortable being there alone.

  "Oh, I'll be fine. Mrs. Garvin, here, and her nephew are staying awhile, and I'm sure your father will be back soon, anyway. I want you to be careful, though."

  "I will be," he nodded as he left.

  A few minutes later, he was entering Ullin's room at the Common House and found him at his desk looking over some papers. Ullin rose and shook Robby's hand.

  "Good day to you," he said. "I hope you are rested."

  "Yes, I am, Commander Tallin."

  "Good. I heard about the prowlers last night. I would have gone with your father, but he insisted that I keep to my business here and get my reports ready for him." He picked up a packet. "I'll be going over to your place soon, to look in on Mira. Anyway, here are your orders. Go to Boskland and give Mr. Bosk this request from the Mayor."

  Robby read over the parchment, an official request for Sheila to be sent back to Passdale to assist in the training of the Passdale Militia.

  "And here is a copy of my report concerning last night's maneuvers that I'll be giving to the council later today; give this to Mr. Bosk, too. Pick up any dispatches that Mr. Bosk might have, and accompany Sheila back with good time. The two of you are to report to me as soon as you get back."

  "Yes, sir," Robby nodded, putting the orders into his shoulder bag.

  "One more thing before you go." Ullin moved from his desk to a side door that led into the armaments room. Entering, he motioned Robby along, saying, "Your mother and other stitchers and seamstresses, along with the weaver, have prepared surcoats for the Passdale Militia. They dropped them off yesterday, but we didn't have time for fittings."

  On a table in the middle of the room was a pile of neatly folded clothes, and Ullin picked up a bundle.

  "This is yours," he said unfolding and holding it up so that Robby could look at it. It was of well-spun linen, sky-blue with red trim. On the front and back was sewn an emblem in the likeness of a bridge, also in red. Robby noticed three black chevrons over the emblem that were not on the other surcoats. There was also a trio sewn onto the left breast of the surcoat.

  "You will be representing our militia, today," Ullin went on. He handed Robby a leather cuirass and helped him take off his jacket. "Here, it goes like this. Yes. Tighten up here, at the side—not a lot of protection there. Stiff though this may be, it is fair protection against light strokes and long-shot arrows, though not so good as chain. This is a plain one and has no spaulders, upper arm protection. Good. Now, let me help you with these bracers—they go around your wrists, yes, right over your sleeve. And over there are some greaves for your legs. With practice, you'll be able to lace them up yourself."

  Ullin helped Robby on with the leather armor, talking as he went. "There are plenty of gaps where an arrow or sword tip can get through—here, tuck the knot just behind the back, right there—it's a start, though, and better than nothing. Furaman sent these down yesterday, not sure where he got them, but they have the looks of Masurthian workmanship. Turn around. Let me tie back your left greave."

  "Whoo, kind of stiff, indeed," Robby said after he got the leggings on and straightened up again. "I feel kind of like a tortoise."

  "You'll get used to it," Ullin smiled. "We'll all be wearing these as soon as we have enough to go 'round. Hopefully in a few weeks, if Mr. Furaman can find enough. Now, your surcoat over all that, and then your belt, double-wrapped, and your sword belt. I'll get your helmet. You'll be warm enough in all that, I'll warrant. It might seem overly much. But you are a soldier of the Passdale Militia, and, my aide, second-in-command, as these chevrons, here, signify. I'll not have you go to those Bosklanders improperly dressed for your station
or for those you represent."

  "So I have some rank? Like you?"

  "I am a commissioned Commander of the King's First Army. That doesn't really mean much, these days, but I do have authority over anyone up to the rank of captain. We've organized into squads, but I haven't yet made squad leader assignments. However, I need someone who will outrank the others. So I've taken the liberty of making you a sergeant. Don't let it go to your head."

  Robby laughed and took the helmet from Ullin with a growing sense of pride and examined it. It was open-faced with hinged side panels that were attached to the chin strap for protecting the side of the wearer's face, and a long back that flared out somewhat at the back of the neck. At the peak of its top, rounded almost to a point, was a small ring.

  "That's for tying in some horsehair or other plume," Ullin said. "Tilt your head."

  Robby did so and Ullin slipped a padded cap on his head. "That'll help with the helmet."

  Robby put the helmet on and tied the chin strap. Ullin stood back and nodded as he sized Robby up, the Kingsman's eyes gleaming as he grinned. "I think you'll do just fine. There's a dispatch pouch beside my table for you to use. And take Anerath. He's out back, saddled and waiting."

  • • •

  From the saddle, Robby quickly appreciated how fine and how mighty Anerath truly was. The horse had an instinct for direction and needed very little urging from the rider. His gait was smooth and assured, and his turns graceful and sure-footed. Anerath was spirited, almost gleeful, and Robby, riding proud in his new accoutrements, got the notion that Anerath longed to show off a bit. If that was so, then Robby understood the feeling. Finally, after last night, and after all the weeks of training, errands, and roll-keeping, Robby felt something of the soldier's pride. An untried soldier, true. But proud, anyway, with his chin up and jaw set as he rode across the bridge.

  "Who goes thar?" cried Mr. Arbuckle, leaning precariously out of his box.

  "Robby Ribbon! Of the Passdale Militia!" came Robby's sharp response.

  "Ye ought not be ridin' 'cross the bridge!" the old man squeaked out as horse and rider trotted past. "Might get hurt." Robby did not hear him and was long past when the bridge tender shook his head. "Oughta lead him 'cross by the reins, dagummit!"