The Castle in the Attic (6 page)

“Why did you do that?” William cried.

The knight popped them in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Not bad. A little dry but tasty.” He wagged his finger at William. “They would never have survived this world at their size anyway. You are too squeamish for your own good, young William. And now, if you will help me clear away the food, I shall return to my training exercises,” the knight announced.
“The armory is well equipped in this castle. I have found quite an adequate sword to replace the one I left behind.”

“What are you training for?” William asked as he put the table back in the kitchen.

“For my return,” Sir Simon said. “I shall be going back to reclaim my kingdom from Alastor.”

He seemed so sure of himself that William was reluctant to tell him it was impossible.

“How do you plan to get back there?” he asked quietly.

“It will happen when everything is in place. There is a riddle written over the front door of the castle, young William,” the knight explained. “You would do well to read it.”

William lay down on the floor so that his eyes were level with the arched double doors of the entrance. Peering through his magnifying glass, he read the words with the lamp tipped toward them.

When the lady doth ply her needle

And the lord his sword doth test
,

Then the squire shall cross the drawbridge

And the time will be right for a quest
.

“But who is the lady and who is the squire?”

The knight shrugged. “We shall find out in due course. Until then, I shall prepare myself.”

“Is it okay if I watch?” William asked.

The knight didn't reply. He stood in the stableyard, his sword at the ready, advancing on an imaginary target. With a roar, he made a thrust, first to the left and then to the right, ducking and weaving all the time to avoid the blows of his adversary. William watched in silence. He could see that the knight was quite agile and a powerful swordsman.
But what good would that do against Alastor's magic powers?
William wondered.

At the bottom of the attic steps, the door opened and the overhead light went on suddenly. Sir Simon ran for his hiding place in the stable. William froze. The face that appeared at the top of the steps was his father's.

“It's ten-thirty, William,” his father said. “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

“I couldn't sleep, so I came to play with the castle,” William said, getting up.

His father looked around. “I haven't been in the attic in years,” he said. “I suppose we should clean this place out sometime. It's a terrible fire hazard.”

“You say that every year, Dad,” William said, edging toward the steps. But his father didn't get the hint.

“It's quite a remarkable castle, isn't it?” he said. “I had to help Mrs. Phillips carry it upstairs on Monday
morning. She told me she was giving it to you to keep.”

“That's right,” William said.

“Show me how it works,” his father said, getting down on his hands and knees.

William showed him the drawbridge and the portcullis and then took him on a tour of the bedroom wing, staying as far away as possible from the stable. But his father wanted to see it all. “What's over on this side?” he asked, poking open the kitchen door.

“That's the kitchen,” William said.

“Look at that fireplace. It even has a roasting spit.”

“It does?” William hadn't noticed that before.

His father's eyes wandered toward the knight's hiding place.

“That's just the stable, Dad,” William said loudly. “Nothing in there to see.”

“Why, look, there's something lying here on the floor,” said his father, picking up the Silver Knight's shield. He handed it to William. “Some brave soldier on the run must have dropped it.”

Before William could answer, there was a sound downstairs.

“William, are you up there?” It was his mother's voice. He groaned. This was turning into a party.

“We're coming down,” his father called quickly.
“Be right there.” He grinned at William. “We've got to raise the drawbridge and lower the portcullis. Can't leave the castle defenseless.” William nodded. He hadn't seen his father this excited about something in a long time. “You realize this castle is missing a very important part of its defenses?”

“It is?” William asked.

“The moat. It needs a moat. I'll make one out of wood in the workshop. I'll come up next week and measure for it.”

“Great, Dad,” William said. He wasn't going to get his hopes up. His father had lots of enthusiasm at the beginning of projects, but somehow they never got finished. “I guess we'd better go down.” He put the thumbnail-sized shield back on the table in the great hall.

His father leaned over and turned off the small lamp. “Guess we don't need this anymore.”

William hesitated. “I like to leave it on,” he said. “Just in case.”

His father looked at him. “In case of what?”

“Oh, nothing,” William said as he started down the stairs. “I was just kidding.”

The image of the token nibbled around the edges of William's mind for a couple of days. He kept thinking about it. On Friday afternoon when he went up to the attic, he found Sir Simon had zapped a mouse with it. The knight was standing over the small dead body, cleaning the blade of his dagger.

“Where did he come from?” William asked.

“I think he smelled the food in the kitchen. I must say it does look like the kind of thing a mouse would eat,” Sir Simon said scornfully. “Anyway, I cornered him in the great hall and pointed the token at him from a safe position behind the door of the chapel. Could you bring me a fire stick from your hearth when you next come?”

“What for?” William asked suspiciously.

“I prefer my meat roasted, although I will eat the mouse raw if need be.”

“I don't see why you have to eat him at all,” William said grumpily.

“I must keep my strength up.”

“All right, I'll get some matches for you if you promise to get him ready while I'm gone.”

When William returned with a box of matches, a small quantity of wood shavings from the fireplace box, and some other supplies, the knight had cleaned and skinned the mouse. William struck a match and lit the small fire in the kitchen.

“I wouldn't have to keep a fire going all night if I had those magic sticks,” Sir Simon said. “But since I cannot strike them myself, I will use the wood to keep my fire fueled through the night.”

“I've brought you this too in case of sparks,” William said as he put down a small mustard jar filled with water and a toothpaste cap for scooping it out. “Please be careful, Sir Simon. My father would be furious if he knew there was a fire going in the attic.”

The knight nodded absent-mindedly, and William left him humming cheerily as he turned the spit.

It was almost the end of April. Mrs. Phillips would be leaving in a week. William asked her to come and
watch his gymnastics practice because she would be gone before the big meet.

“Are you still worried about the floor exercise?” Mrs. Phillips asked as they were waiting for the bus.

“Yes. I haven't gotten it right yet. Robert says I'm being lazy, but it's something else.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Sounds stupid, but I think I'm scared of that point where my neck hits the mat. It might snap or something.”

“That doesn't sound stupid, it sounds perfectly reasonable. But you've been scared before, William, and you've always gotten over it.”

He smiled. “I remember how terrified I was of doing a round-off. It seems silly.”
But now you're going away
, he thought,
and that makes everything different
.

Robert and Mrs. Phillips understood one another. She had attended William's meets ever since he started gymnastics at the age of six. Robert had taught her how to spot William on the more difficult floor exercises, and William knew they both believed in his ability, although they had very different ways of showing it.

When they arrived at the gym, Robert directed Mrs. Phillips to a chair where she had an unobstructed view. The team warmed up and started out with straddle
presses on the parallel bars. Then they moved directly to the floor exercises.

“William, we will start with your routine,” Robert said. “Don't forget your sense of space. Before you start, you should always know where you are going to land. Are you ready?”

William looked at Mrs. Phillips. She did not smile or nod, but he could feel her concentrating on him. He walked to the corner of the mat, tightened his body, and took a deep breath. The start was slow, with a round-off followed by a whip-back and a layout somersault. By the third pass across the mat, his body and mind were working together, and he knew in that instant, just before the round-off, that he was going to make it. Two flip-flops and both shoulders touched the mat evenly for the dive roll. Up again, tight body, arms outstretched. He was standing just where he wanted to land, two feet from Mrs. Phillips. Her smile was so wide, it seemed to spread from one corner of the gym to the other.

The team burst into applause, but it faded away quickly. Everyone was watching Robert. At last he nodded his approval. “You should come to every practice, Mrs. Phillips,” he said, still looking at William. “William only gives us his best when you are here.”

“Robert's right,” William said over dinner that night. “I won't be able to do it that well again.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“You'll be gone. You won't be there to watch me.”

“William, it had nothing to do with me,” she said. “It was your mind and your body working together, concentrating on the job you had to do. I'm not your good-luck charm. I don't think you'll believe that until I leave.”

They played a game of chess after dinner. He watched her studying the board, lips pursed, chin in her hands.

“Is your head going to fall off?” he asked quietly, and they both smiled at the old joke. When he was younger it had been her way of reminding him to take his elbows off the table.

“Silly bishops,” she muttered, glaring at the board. “They just get in the way. I'll give you this one if you like,” she offered.

“No way,” William replied, grinning. “I know your old tricks. That just clears the way to my queen.”

She made a face at him and went back to staring at the board. As he waited for her next move, he turned a pawn over and over in his hand. Its size reminded him of the Silver Knight.

I wish I could hold her in my hand like this
, he
thought.
Then she couldn't go away from me
.

He sat up suddenly. He
could
make her small and keep her. Of course, he could. With the token.

All that day and the next, the idea grew inside him until he could think of nothing else. The day before she was supposed to leave, he went up to see the Silver Knight, who was in the stableyard thrusting his dagger into an imaginary enemy.

“You'll be ready for anything when the time comes,” William said, settling down next to the castle.

“I do rather hope it comes soon,” the knight said, adjusting his belt. “My subjects will have completely forgotten me by the time I return.”

“It must be lonely up here all day,” William said. “It's too bad I can't visit more often.”

“Yes. And a bit of female companionship would not be unwelcome,” the knight said. “A lord needs a lady, William.”

“Exactly what I've been thinking,” William replied gleefully. “And I have just the lady for you.”

“Do you, now? And who might that be?”

“Mrs. Phillips. The Lady Elinore. Actually she knows you, although you've never met. She's the one who gave me the castle.”

“And is her face fair and are her ways pleasant?”
the knight asked. “I should not like to share my castle with a rough barmaid or a servant girl.”