Sir Kendrick and the Castle of Bel Lione (12 page)

THE PECULIAR MR. MORLEY

Kendrick did not wait for morning, for each passing moment could be Duncan’s last. As soon as he found his way back to town, he knocked on the cooper’s door, hoping the man would hear him from his quarters above his barrel-making shop. After numerous attempts, each one more intense than the last, Kendrick yielded to the probability that no one was home. He went to nearby shops, trying to find someone who might know if Morley was near.

“There’s no tellin’ where that crazy buffoon might be. If the lamp isn’t lit, you’ll not find ’im till tomorrow,” the shop owner across the street said crossly and then slammed the door.

Kendrick returned to the cooper’s shop and knocked once more. This time he was rewarded with the sound of an irregular pattern of footsteps. As they grew louder, the light emanating from the crack beneath the doorway brightened slightly. The creak of the bolt being loosened from its lock seemed loud in the quiet of the night, and the door opened just enough for an eye to stare out.

“What ya wantin’?” came a voice laced with irritation.

“I am Kendrick of Penwell. May I talk with you for a moment?”

The man muttered something beneath his breath, but the door opened. Kendrick stepped inside, and the man held a lamp up high to get a look at him. Kendrick could also now see Mr. Morley more clearly. He was an odd-looking fellow, well beyond middle age, with a hunched back, a long nose, and ears a little large for his thin face and frail-looking body. As he inspected Kendrick, he pursed his lips tightly together, and they protruded out nearly to the tip of his nose. Kendrick had obviously roused him from sleep, and his disgust at the intrusion was clear. As he became more alert, Morley’s eyes opened wider, and Kendrick got the sense that the man was as peculiar within as he was without.

“Mr. Morley, I have come to you because—”

“I can see in your face that you have lost one to Lord Ra … like so many before you. Others have come to me, but I can offer them nothing except this: the choice was their own, and their own shall they bear.” Morley set the lamp on a nearby table and walked toward a counter near one of the walls. “Mourn not for the foolish, though they be your sons or daughters, for darkness swallows all who play in its shadows.”

Kendrick tried to ignore the feeling that this visit to Mr. Morley would be a futile exercise. “You don’t understand, sir. I have not lost a son or daughter, but a fellow Knight … of the Prince.”

Morley stopped with his back to Kendrick. He slowly turned around, shuffled back to the table, and leaned across the lamp to look deep into Kendrick’s eyes. The light of the lamp illuminated Morley’s face from below, giving Kendrick the bizarre impression that he was looking and talking to a floating head.

Morley squinted, and he pointed a gnarled finger at Kendrick’s chest. “If that is true, then
I
am the foolish one, for I could be killed just for speaking to you.”

Morley continued to stare at Kendrick, then smacked his lips together as though he were chewing something. “When did your friend go into the castle?”

“Just tonight, to save a boy. But I think—”

“There is nothing to be done tonight. Your only hope is that he returns to you tomorrow. I cannot help you.”

Morley picked up the lamp and headed toward the door. Kendrick followed, protesting. “But he may be dead by tomorrow!”

Morley opened the door and held the light up closely to his face. His eyes looked wild, almost as if he delighted in the thought of Duncan’s demise.

“Yes,” Morley said slowly and waited for Kendrick to leave.

Kendrick bit back an angry retort, realizing it would make little difference to this strange fellow.
Why would Bronwyn waste my time by sending me here?

He walked the remaining distance to Lionsgate, where the lanterns still burned and the two women waited anxiously. He told them of the evening’s events. Then they settled in for a sleepless night.

At sunrise Lady Odette served them breakfast, but most of the food remained untouched. Elise finally excused herself from the table and escaped to the front porch, where she slowly paced from one end to the other. Kendrick remained and tried to comfort Lady Odette.

Long after their food had grown cold, Kendrick heard Elise call from the porch. “Ancel comes!”

The three of them ran into the front courtyard and down the roadway toward Ancel. Lady Odette greeted her son as though he had come back from the dead.

He pulled back from her embrace, his eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Mother.”

Elise grabbed Ancel’s arm. “Where is Duncan?”

Ancel looked at Elise. There was great pain in his countenance.

“Where?” Elise shouted and shook his arm.

Ancel’s chin dropped to his chest. “He is in the castle.”

Elise’s hand fell to her side, as though it carried the weight of a heavy stone. She began to weep softly. Kendrick turned away, for he didn’t want to show the severity of his anger or his concern.

“I’m sorry, El.” Ancel’s voice quivered. “I didn’t think anyone would come into the castle looking for me. I …” His voice trailed off to silence.

Elise turned and ran into the manor. Kendrick turned about and looked at Ancel. “Did you see Duncan?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me everything you saw, Ancel—everything!”

The boy covered his face with his hands.

“You must tell Sir Kendrick everything,” Lady Odette said, “if there is to be any hope of helping Duncan.”

Ancel dropped his hands from his face, and his eyes were red. He blinked a few times and gathered himself to share his story.

“My friends and I entered the castle around the ninth hour. I didn’t want to become like them—truly, Mother. I just wanted to see what the festival was like and learn more about Lord Ra. He was just inside the gate, smiling and greeting all who entered. The castle was full of music and dancing and all kinds of food and drink. At first it seemed like a wonderful celebration. There were hundreds and hundreds of us, maybe thousands … I don’t know. I ate some, but mostly I just watched. After a couple of hours, the celebration became quite … ah … unruly.” Ancel lowered his eyes again. “Many became drunk from the strong ale. Things began to happen that made me very uncomfortable.”

“What kinds of things?” Kendrick asked.

“They began to burn strange incense, and people became affectionate with each other. Even the sporting games turned dreadful.”

“How so?” Kendrick asked.

Ancel frowned as he recalled the images for Kendrick. “At first there were contests of skill that tested strength and accuracy with the sword. But then Lord Ra ordered that wild pigs be brought in for the participants to practice on. Everyone cheered as the blood flowed, but Lord Ra seemed to enjoy it the most. He watched most of the festival from up above, on the gallery. He’s frightful, Mother, just as Father suspected.”

Ancel looked to Lady Odette for some assurance that he had not
completely lost her trust or her love. She reached down and took his hand in hers, nodding for him to continue.

“I began to feel sick from the sights and smells and wanted to leave, so I started toward the castle gate.” Ancel looked at Kendrick now. “That’s when I saw Duncan enter. I was so glad to see him. I ran over to him and told him I wanted to get out of the castle, but the warriors inside the gate wouldn’t let us out. They said no one could leave until sunrise.

“Just then a mounted knight entered through the gate, and Duncan became very nervous—almost afraid. He said I shouldn’t be seen with him there and pushed me into a crowd of people. He said I should stay away from the castle guards until morning and then get out. Then I lost track of him. He just disappeared!”

“That was the last you saw of him?”

Ancel shook his head. “A little while later, I saw the same knight talking with Lord Ra up on the gallery. The knight pointed, and soon two huge guards took Duncan deeper into the castle. And … I didn’t know what to do.”

The boy stared at Kendrick with tears in his eyes. “I should have gone after him. I know that. But I … was afraid. So I did what Duncan told me to. I waited until sunrise and got out as fast as I—”

Kendrick interrupted. “What were the colors of the knight you saw?”

Ancel thought for a moment. “They were gold and blue.”

Kendrick closed his eyes and nodded, certain the man could be none other than Sir Casimir. He struggled to put aside his anger at both Ancel
and
Duncan, knowing such a response would do no one any good. He needed to act quickly instead of indulging his feelings.

The trouble was, he had no idea what action to take next.

He considered riding to Chessington for help, but it would be at least two weeks, and Duncan would surely be dead by then, if he wasn’t
already. Besides, it would take more than just a few knights to gain access to the castle. It would take an army.

He considered his options a moment longer, then turned to leave.

“What are you going to do?” Ancel asked.

“I’m going to talk to a crazy old man again. Lady Odette, I will need a horse.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Take Pilgrim.”

Kendrick knew that Pilgrim was her late husband’s horse, a well-muscled chestnut. Although he had been put to farm work in recent years, he had trained to carry a knight into battle. Kendrick opened his mouth with the intention of refusing her offer, but she held up her hand.

“He yearns to be the steed of a knight once again. Take him and go!”

“Thank you, my lady. I shall take good care of him.”

Lady Odette nodded, and Kendrick ran to prepare the horse.

Once under saddle, Pilgrim seemed to sense the urgency and importance of their mission. He carried his new rider smoothly and swiftly into town and to the cooper’s shop, where Kendrick heard a ferocious exchange of contemptuous words between the cooper and a customer.

“Your barrels leaked,” the customer said smugly.

“Liar!” Morley exclaimed. “Liar, liar, liar!” He pounded his fist on a barrel to emphasize each word. Spittle sprayed from his lips as he spoke. His eyes were wild and full of anger. “You’ll pay the full price o’ those barrels or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” The man puffed up his chest and looked scornfully down on Morley’s hunched form.

Morley muttered something incomprehensible.

“That’s what I thought.” The man placed four coins on the barrel between them. “Take half or nothing at all.”

Morley leaned over the barrel and eyed the coins. He grabbed them and then pointed a crooked finger at the customer. “You are a thief an’ a liar.”

The man retreated one step to avoid more flying spittle.

“I’ll never make another barrel for you. Be gone from here!”

The man rolled his eyes and left.

Kendrick hesitated just a moment to let the mood settle, then stepped forward.

“You again,” Morley said gruffly. “What do you want?”

“My friend did not return.”

“I’ve already told ya that I got nothin’ to help you.” Morley placed the coins into his money box and turned about. Pursing his lips in the same odd fashion, he lifted his chin a bit to look more directly at Kendrick. The cooper’s eyes looked as wild as they had the night before.

“Are you for Lord Ra or against him?” Kendrick asked.

The old man laughed. “I am neither for nor against, just a witness t’ the passing o’ night upon the land.”

Kendrick placed two gold coins on the table. “If that be so, then be a witness for me and tell me how I can save my friend.”

Morley cackled as if to make jest of Kendrick, but he picked up the gold coins and eyed them carefully before placing them in his pocket. “I can’t tell you how to save your friend. But I can tell you which mountain to climb.” Morley pointed a gnarled finger at Kendrick’s face and laughed again.

Kendrick narrowed his eyes and waited for more. The man was surely mad, but Kendrick was desperate enough to listen even to the ravings of a madman.

“There is a man who does not exist,” Morley said with a gleam in his eye. “But I can tell you where to find him!”

Kendrick listened and found himself a prisoner to the one shred of hope given him by the wild-eyed cooper of Bel Lione. By midday, Kendrick had set his course for the Northern Mountains.