The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "Good, boy!" Sheila patted her mount's neck. "You were probably out all night last night, huh?"

  They did make good time and soon had the top of the Passdale bridge in sight, rising in the distance over the next little ridge.

  "I look forward to being back in Passdale, in the Ribbon household," Sheila said. "Frizella taught me how to make a nice ham and potato stew. Maybe Mirabella will let me fix it for supper one night."

  "That sounds good!"

  "And if I am daring, and if Mirabella is willing to risk having me smoke up her home, I'll make some breakfast stove cakes. Frizella gave me a jar of syrup to give to your mother, too."

  "Oh!" Robby grinned. "All that sounds good, too! So you've been spending time in the Bosk kitchen as well?"

  "In the evenings, yes. I suppose staying with you gave me a taste of what a real home-life could be like. Anyway, I asked Frizella to show me a few things, and I tried to help her out some. She's been such a good friend to me, probably the nearest thing to a sister I guess I'll ever know. Raenelle and I even managed a few kind words to one another! Between Frizella and your mother, I feel, well, like I've never felt before. I'm very lucky to have the friends that I do."

  Robby saw her earnestness, and he nodded back at her.

  "I think my mother has missed you, too," he said. "I know I have."

  By now they had reached the top of the ridge and had a full view over the sloping fields below to the river Bentwide and Passdale on the other side. Robby had always liked the view from this spot, though it now seemed somewhat bare due to the loss of so many fine old poplars that once lined the banks. On the river road, running along side the far bank of the Bentwide in front of the shops and houses, was a steady line of carts and caravans, gaily painted and with with flags and pennants, and people of all shapes and sizes in colorful costumes, moving like small toys, from south to north and then turning on the westward road.

  "Looks like some of the carnival folk are coming in," said Sheila.

  "Just as Ashlord said," replied Robby. "Listen!"

  Over the sound of the breeze rushing through the dry brush beside the road, they made out the faint noise of people and the distant clanging of carts as well as strains of lively music, all coming up from the troupes and minstrels across the river. Suddenly, overriding all else, came the unmistakable clang of a bell.

  "The Militia is being called!" Robby cried, kicking Anerath into an instant gallop. By the time Sheila's somewhat startled mount reacted, and she had him up to a full gallop, Robby and Anerath were already twenty-five yards ahead of them and the gap continued to widen as Anerath effortlessly streaked away. Down the slope they went, and Robby quickly reached the bridge. The arm gate was down on his side and a farmer was crossing toward him just halfway along, prodding a cow with a stick.

  Anerath stomped to a halt before the gate and reared, swinging his forelegs in the air and whinnying loudly.

  "Raise the gate!" Robby shouted at poor Arbuckle. Having seen Robby and Sheila charging for the bridge, the old man was in a panic about what to do. Clumsily, muttering to himself, he hastily pulled one lever and then another until at last the arm lurched up. Robby galloped onto the bridge with Sheila now coming full speed right behind him.

  "Watch out thar!" the Arbuckle shouted. "No riders on the bridge! No riders on...watch the cow!"

  "Make way!" Robby yelled at the farmer who tried his best to get his cow aside as Robby and Sheila shot past, sending the poor heifer into a confusion of excitement so that she turned all the way around and trotted quickly after the two riders.

  "No! No! No! Ye stupid beast!" shouted the farmer. "Not that way! We just come from over thar!"

  The riders ignored the shouting behind them and turned left as they came off the bridge. At the westward road, they plunged right into the convoy of singers, jugglers, and merrymakers that crowded onto the same road. This way passed the Common House and then went up over the hills behind Passdale and on to Wayford Common just beyond, where the fairgrounds were. Sheila and Robby shot around and ahead of the caravan and could soon see some of the militiamen gathering before the Common House steps, some just arriving and others already in their new uniforms. Off in the side yard, at the base of the new bell tower, stood the large, unmistakable form of Ibin, looking ironically fierce in his surcoat and helmet and bearing a great lance. He was watching his best friend Billy pull the bell rope. Sheila and Robby rode up into the yard and dismounted next to Ibin.

  "Hello, Robby," he said. "Hello, Sheila. Billy'sringingthe, Billy'sringingthebell."

  "I see," said Sheila.

  "What's afoot?" Robby asked.

  "Well, it's 'bout dang time ye got here!" Billy responded. "Fine trick traipsin' off while Mr. Commander puts me in charge of bell-clangin'. Me arms're done wore off, almost. Been ringin' this thing for near an hour, now. This here's one job ye can keep!"

  "What's happening?" Robby repeated.

  "I dunno," said Billy between pulls. "Ask Mr. Commander! He wanted us to, umph!, to gather up!"

  "Why do I bother asking Billy anything?" Robby muttered as he trotted off to the side door that led inside to the barracks. He looked around and soon spotted Ullin making his way up the stairs at the far end.

  "Ullin!"

  "Oh, there you are!" Ullin said, turning to peer under a rafter at him from halfway up the stairs. "Please address me in the proper manner in front of the men. Did you bring Sheila?"

  "Yes, Commander Tallin. Pardon me, sir. She's outside with the horses."

  "Good. Any dispatches from Bosk? Come along."

  Robby followed Ullin upstairs, handing him the packet he brought back from Boskland. Ullin opened the packet and looked through the letters.

  "For the Mayor. For the Council. Ah! Here's a note for me," Ullin said as they turned down the hall toward the front of the building. He opened the folded paper and smiled as he looked over it.

  "Sir? What's afoot?" Robby asked, keeping up with Ullin's naturally long and quick strides.

  Sheila had hitched the horses and was coming up the steps as Ullin and Robby emerged.

  "You might as well hear with all the rest," Ullin was saying. "Ah, Sheila! Good to have you back. I'll be with you presently. Mr. Ribbon, have the men fall in and call the roll, if you will."

  "Yes, sir," Robby said and then turned to Starton, an older fellow that stood nearby. "Be so good as to ask Billy and Ibin to come along."

  "Certainly, sir!"

  "Fall in at attention!" Robby ordered.

  Robby then made the count while Ullin and Sheila chatted quietly together on the portico at the top of the steps.

  "Good, good," Ullin was saying as Robby came up. "We'll talk about it in a bit."

  "All present, sir!"

  "Very well. Have them at their ease."

  "Parade rest!" Robby shouted. The militia men shifted their feet apart. "At ease! Listen up!"

  Ullin took a few steps down and stood before his men, pleased that all the drilling was paying off, as evidenced by their stance and obedience.

  "Some news and an announcement," Ullin said. "First, the Master of Boskland sends his regards and his warm congratulations to the Passdale Militia for last night's showing." This brought smiles to most of those attending. "I read to you this message, just received: 'A hard test, well met. The new militia in Passdale is already apace with any that Boskland has seen, and will, no doubt, soon be a force not to be reckoned with lightly.' "

  "Hear! Hear!" cried several of the men.

  "I will add this," Ullin continued. "You made me proud to be your leader last night, and I wish my hearty thanks to your bravery and endurance on such a hard run, facing the dark and the unknown."

  Ullin bowed amongst more cheers and several cries of "Ullin Saheed! Ullin Saheed!"

  Ullin did not smile, but he held up his hand to restore order. They settled down, and he continued.

  "Our training must move forward, and a new task has been set for us. These things w
ill require you to be here for the next fortnight beginning tomorrow morning."

  This was met by much murmuring.

  "As was pointed out last night," he continued, "though we held a strong position, it would have been stronger if we had placed archers on the heights on either side of the road. But we have no archers. That is why Sheila Pradkin is here. She is known throughout the region for her skill with the bow and arrow. She will share that skill with you, and I will train you on the use of those skills in battle. Now. As you all can plainly see, many people are arriving from all over to participate in the upcoming festival. The Mayor has requested our assistance. So we will help Sheriff Fivelpont keep order and will be on hand if needed. There has never been much in the way of trouble or disorder during the past festivals, so I am told, and none is expected. Still, we will do our best to satisfy whatever need may arise and to provide additional eyes upon any unseemly strangers who may lurk among our visitors."

  By now there was again much murmuring and some open opposition. Ullin held up his hand again.

  "I know! I know! Many of you are needed in the shops and on the farm, and this is short notice. Such is the militiaman's life. The tests are many, and the rewards are few. Still. Such as this is what we signed on for, and we must do our duty. The Mayor has agreed to provision us, and the Council has agreed to compensate each of you with the token of fourteen silver pieces at the end of service for each man who gives a full fortnight. That is a great sum, and none of us joined with any hope of such compensation. We shall all do our duty regardless of any such reward. Those of you not yet with uniform, come with me. The rest of you are dismissed until noon tomorrow. Go, now, and put your business in order. That is all!" Ullin turned away from the group, nodding at Robby as he passed through the doors.

  "Company! Atten-SHUN!" Robby cried out as taught. The group stiffened with a fair semblance of attention. "Dismissed!"

  Robby and Sheila followed Ullin and a few others back into the hall and then down the stairs to the barracks. While Sheila looked over the armoury, and the others tried on their new uniforms, Ullin spoke to Robby.

  "How did it go out at Boskland?"

  "Oh, fine. Though they are a bit miffed at last night's doings."

  "I imagine."

  "And I have a feeling we are being looked upon as rivals, in a way."

  "That is too bad," Ullin said, sitting down at his desk. "But I suppose it's to be expected. They are a proud bunch, those Bosklanders, and are known far and wide for their pride in tradition and military prowess. I imagine they think us a bunch of motley upstarts."

  "Yes, sir. They'll soon learn better, though, won't they?"

  Ullin nodded as Sheriff Fivelpont came in, and he stood to shake his hand.

  "Commander! Robby! How goes it?"

  "We'll be in order and ready to assign the first patrol to you about this time tomorrow," Ullin told him.

  "Mighty good! I do appreciate it."

  Fivelpont had been Sheriff of Passdale and Barley for nearly twelve years, a capable though aging lawman, fair and careful. He cocked his feathered cap back on his head jauntily, but was fastidious about his appearance, as was evidenced by his habit of keeping his coat of black leather, well-oiled and shiny, along with his black knee boots. Today, he wore a green sash across his large frame to hold his sword and matching green breeches, though much faded. His hair was close-cropped, and his round face had a day or two of gray stubble going from chin to his rosy cheeks.

  "Any sign of the prowlers spotted last night at the Ribbon's place?"

  " 'Fraid not. The Mayor an' me tracked 'em down the south road, but lost 'em in all the other tracks of folk comin' in. We rode as far as Bentbend, lookin' for horses amongst the comers and for suspicious types. But, lo! What a crowd comin' in! Bunches of folk I never seen afore at any of our rites er festivals. We must've passed by forty wagons an' a hunnerd folk what I wouldn't put past a little bit of sly gamin', if ye take me meanin'. So, no. No luck at all. It'd pay to keep our doors an' winders latched, I warrant."

  They talked on about various ways to use the Passdale men, what roads to patrol, what to look for, how many men in a patrol, and a little about the powers of arrest. Robby listened in until they wrapped up their conversation and Fivelpont had departed.

  "Where is Sheila?" Ullin asked Robby.

  "Just here, sir." Robby motioned to Sheila, and she put down a sword she was examining and re-entered the room.

  "Ah, Sheila. What do you think of our little armoury?"

  "I'm not a good judge of such things," she shrugged. "But there aren't enough good bows and but a few straight arrows."

  "I know. I have the carpenter working on a few things for us and I sent a request by post for more from Furaman. I hope they will arrive by week's end along with more arms. Meanwhile, I can hardly put you up here, unless you want to have a room in the loft under the roof?"

  "Oh, no worries there," Robby interrupted. "She'll be staying with us."

  "Good, good," Ullin nodded. "I don't think very many of our company have much experience with bow and arrow. I'm a fair archer myself, and I know how to use them in a fight and how to face against them. If you are half so good with arrows as you used to be with dirt clods, you'll make a fine example."

  "Dirt clods?"

  "Aye," Ullin smiled, "speaking as one on the receiving end, that is. Twelve or so years ago, when I stayed at Passdale for a time with Robby's family, you pelted me all up and down Barley."

  Sheila's face reddened as she now remembered Ullin. She had not made the connection, but she now recalled the playful young man from so many years ago. Looking at Ullin for a long moment, she had trouble reconciling the fact that the weary-eyed, somewhat grizzled fellow standing in front of her now was the same person, once so handsome and dashing. She was around eight years old at the time, and she had trailed after him all during his mapmaking business, taunting and aggravating him in any way she could.

  "I'm afraid I was quite the little hellion," she managed. "But as I recall, you finally gave back as good as I gave you."

  "What's that?" Robby asked.

  "He set a trap for me one day," Sheila explained. "He pretended to be napping under a tree, knowing all the while I was sneaking up to clobber him with a stick. Just as I got within five paces of him, he pulled a little string, and before I knew it I was dangling upside down in a snare he'd laid for me."

  "You're joking!" Robby said, looking incredulously from Ullin to Sheila. "You all didn't tell me about that! What happened then?"

  "Oh, I cut her down and sent her packing," Ullin said, waving his hand to make nothing of it. That was not at all how Sheila remembered it, and she almost said so. But she stopped herself, her thoughts wandering back in time.

  Chapter 17

  The Kingsman and the Imp

  "So I've caught me some wild beastie!" Ullin said, standing up and pretending to yawn and stretch. He then walked around the little girl, dangling upside down from his snare, stepping back as she took a swing at him with the stick she still held. The loop of rope held her firmly around both ankles, though, with her head some two feet off the ground. A few pebbles fell from the pockets of her ragged breeches.

  "Lemme down!" screamed Sheila, still trying to get at her captor with her stick even from her compromised state. "I'll kick yer kneecaps off, I will, ye basterd! An' poke out yer eyes! Lemme down!"

  "Oh my, what a squirmy little thing it is, too! Let me see. Looks too scrawny to eat. Too noisy to keep as a pet. And what language!"

  "Lemme down! Lemme down!"

  "What's this? Do I see tears? Can it be the creature has feelings? Might it be some woodsprite I've captured? No-o-o, don't think so. Woodsprites are mischievous, but never so dirty. More like some impish thing, as dangerous and full of tricks as they come, I reckon. As vicious as it is dirty."

  "I'm not!" Sheila sobbed as her anger turned to fear. "I'm, I'm, I'm only a little girl!"

  "I don't believe you!" Ullin
crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Yes, I'm convinced you're a gnome, or maybe even a young hobgoblin, come to cast some evil spell on me with your magic stick."

  "I'm not! I'm not!" she cried, throwing away the stick.

  "Oh, yes. I suppose I'll have to put you in a sack and throw you in the river to break your powers and rid these lands of you. Hm. I don't seem to have a sack big enough."

  "Oh, but I'm not. I'm not!"

  "Why should I believe you? I bet if I cut you down you'd put a spell on me quicker than I could wink!"

  "Oh no, I wouldn't. I can't do spells!"

  "Then tell me your rightful name."

  "Sheila Pradkin's me name!"

  "Do you swear?"

  "I do! By me mother's blood, I swear."

  "Well! Since you've sworn," Ullin said, lifting her up over his shoulder and drawing his knife, "if you're an gnome, then you'll have no power over me. But what if you're an imp? Imps are most devious liars."

  With a quick stroke he cut the rope and held her over his shoulder as he strode quickly toward the river.

  "I ain't no imp!" she yelled, kicking and beating Ullin's back with her fists.

  "There's a sure test, I hear, for such."

  "Lemme go!"

  "Not a chance, little beast! Not until I make sure I'm not turning loose some evil fiend upon these hapless lands."

  "What're ye doin'? Put me down!"

  "Well, fiends hate water, generally, and especially flowing water, they say. And so I'm going to throw you into the river. No sacks needed. If you're a fiend, you'll hate it and try to get out as fast as you can before the water burns you up. That's how I'll know you to be a fiend and will take my dagger and sword to you. But if you stay in the water, I'll know you to be a true little girl."

  "What if I can't swim?"

  "Oh, it's not deep here."

  Ullin waded into the water until it was up to his thighs then dropped her in with a splash. Sheila screamed and then gurgled, splashing frantically with her hands as she went under. Her ankles were still tied, only the tether had been cut, but she quickly got on her feet and stood up in water just above her waist. Infuriated, she jerked her head around. She expected him to be on the bank laughing at her, but there was no sign of him, not in the water and nowhere along the bank. She tried moving toward the shore, but since her feet were tied, she could only hop. After managing a few yards, she finally took a deep breath and crouched down under the water to untie the rope. It came off easily. She stood up and began striding with a mix of pouty triumph and anger to the bank, thinking how she would catch up with that fellow and show him for sure!