The Battle for the Castle (5 page)

William pointed the frowning face of Janus at his friend and said the god's name in a clear sharp voice.

He knelt next to the tiny figure waving up at him and flattened his hand against the floor. Jason pushed his bike up the edge of William's palm and along one of the creases.

“You feeling okay?” William asked quietly.

“It was really weird,” Jason called through his cupped palms. “Like this big wind blowing around my face. How do I look? Have I still got everything?” He bent first one knee and then the other. “My legs still work,” he said.

“Great. Hold on.” William lifted his friend and then lowered him onto the drawbridge. “Now you can get off,” he said. Jason rode his bike over the small
hill of William's flesh. The bike tires tickled. “Here's the token,” William said. “Wait until I've got my backpack on and I give you the thumbs-up sign.”

Jason held his bike between his knees and took the token.

“Ready?” he called with one hand outstretched.

William nodded. He didn't even hear Jason say the word. He just felt the breeze lifting the hair off his forehead and a strange trembling in the air around him.

When he and Jason met in the middle of the drawbridge, they gave each other two high fives, first with their right hands and then with their left. Before they wheeled their bikes across the drawbridge, William took the token from Jason and stuffed it safely away in his backpack.

“I don't believe this,” Jason said from the middle of the courtyard after they'd raised the drawbridge. “The castle feels so real. But where is everybody? Sir Simon and all the soldiers?”

“In his own castle,” William explained. “On the other side of the forest. Remember I told you? We'll go there tomorrow.”

“It's confusing.”

“I know,” said William. “Come on. We'll park our bikes in the stable, and I'll give you a tour.”

“At least our horses don't need any hay,” Jason said as he propped his bike against the rough wooden wall of the first stall.

“This is the armory,” William said when they passed the first entrance beyond the stable. Jason tried
to make a detour, but William steered him across the courtyard. Jason liked uniforms. Once he got in the armory, William knew he'd never leave.

He showed Jason the huge fireplace in the kitchen and the small side ovens where the bread was baked and then took him through the buttery and the covered passageway into the great hall.

“Jeez,” Jason said as he stared up at the banners in the minstrel's gallery. “You don't see any of this stuff from the outside, do you?”

William didn't answer. He was amazed at how quickly everything was coming back to him. The castle walls, the layout of the rooms, the smooth, cold, stone floors. He led Jason up the stone steps in the tower to Mrs. Phillips's bedchamber. Every inch of the room seemed so familiar that he felt as if he had been there just the day before and she would be waiting for him in the corner, looking up from her needlework. But of course she wasn't. The only sign that she had ever been there were her surplice and tunic still hanging in the wardrobe.

“So who slept here?” Jason asked. “Sir Simon?”

“No. He slept outdoors, in the courtyard. This was Mrs. Phillips's room, the master chamber. I spent the night here before Sir Simon and I left. On the floor in front of the fire.”

Jason wrinkled up his nose and sniffed. “Funny,”
he said. “It smells like her. Perfume or something.”

So he smells it too, William thought. “Soap,” he muttered. “She always used lavender soap. Come on,” he said. “I'll show you the allure.”

“Sounds like another kind of perfume,” said Jason.

“It's the wall walk. In the old days, the guards used to stand up there and pour boiling oil on their enemies.”

As they made their way along the walk, Jason ran his hand over the thick stones. “Pretty safe place,” he said. He boosted himself up and hung out over the wall. “No enemies here,” Jason said. “But I can't see the attic anymore either.”

“That happens,” William said. “You keep wondering where it's gone. And tomorrow when we go over the drawbridge, we'll walk right into the forest. At least that's what happened last time. Let's go down. It's getting dark. I need to start the fire.”

“What's for supper, Mom?”

William grinned. “Chicken. It's already cooked but I'll heat it up on the roasting spit. You'd better eat a lot because after the chicken's gone, there's only peanut butter and jelly and fruit until we get to Sir Simon's.”

“I brought protein bars.”

“Good,” said William. “After we finish them, it's roasted mice. Or rats. Dad thinks that hole you found is big enough for a rat.”

Jason made a gagging noise and pretended to throw up over the edge of the wall.

“That'll probably work better than boiling oil,” William said as he led the way down.

After dinner, they unrolled their sleeping bags in the courtyard.

“This is the life, William, old buddy,” Jason said. “Food, drink, no parents around to bug us, no science report due tomorrow.”

“Let's see. No forks or napkins. They didn't use them in the olden days,” William said.

“No piano recitals,” said Jason.

“No gymnastics meets.”

“All the training time in the world,” Jason went on. “I think we should take a vacation like this every month. If things get bad, we head up here for a little break.”

William smiled. No trains to jump, he thought. But he didn't say it.

“It's hard to believe this is really happening,” Jason said. He pulled the sleeping bag up around him as if he were putting on a pair of pants. “Maybe it's just a dream that we're both having at the same time.”

“Sometimes with magic, you don't try to figure things out,” William said. “It doesn't get you anywhere. Like right now, when you look up, what are you seeing? The attic ceiling or the sky?”

“The sky,” Jason said. “I see stars.”

“Where?” William asked. He followed Jason's pointing finger, and for a moment he thought he saw a twinkling light, but then it was gone. “Maybe,” he said after a long moment. “Maybe.”

He put his hands behind his head and wished for a pillow. Even though they'd carried the straw pallets down from the bedchambers, the floor of the courtyard felt hard. He shoved his backpack under his head. Lumpy, he thought, but better than nothing.

William could tell from his friend's steady breathing that he was already asleep. Jason slept the way he did everything else. Completely.

William didn't remember falling asleep himself. But when he opened his eyes and it was still dark, he knew he must have dozed off. His back felt stiff and cramped and something had woken him. Some noise.

“Jason, wake up,” he hissed. “Do you hear that?”

“What do you want?” Jason groaned. “It's the middle of the night.”

“Listen. Do you hear that noise? Like something gnawing.”

Jason sat bolt upright as if he remembered suddenly where they were. “What is it?” he cried in alarm.

“I don't know,” William said. “It's coming from the other side of the wall. Let's go look. I've got the flashlight.”

Jason kept close behind, stumbling once or twice over the heels of William's running shoes as he tried to see ahead of them.

“I wish you'd remembered to bring a flashlight,” William whispered.

“Yeah, me too,” Jason grunted.

“Well, hang onto me while we go up the steps. I don't want you to trip over me.” William felt Jason's fingers slip through his belt loop.

Like blind people, they slowly felt their way up the staircase inside the north tower. When they reached the top, William raised his hand. “Wait,” he whispered. “Listen.”

For a moment, they heard nothing. And then the same faint scratching floated up to them, this time from the direction of the south tower. They tiptoed along the walk until they stood right above the strange noise.

William shone the light over the side of the wall and it came to rest on the glossy dark fur of an animal.

“What is
that
?” Jason whispered. He was holding onto the sides of his glasses and staring through them as if they were binoculars.

“It's too big for a mouse,” William said. “Gross. It's a rat. This must be what Mom was hearing.”

At the noise above, the rat hesitated. Then it started its restless exploring again, this time up the wall with its paws. “It's climbing up,” Jason said, his voice
rising in panic. “It's going to come over the wall.”

“Don't be dumb,” William answered. “It's not big enough.”

But when the rat had stretched to its full length, it was only a foot or two beneath them.

“It's not small like us,” Jason said. “It's regular size. Where's the token? We'll zap it.”

“Down in my backpack,” William said quietly.

“Blast.”

Suddenly William pointed the flashlight directly into the animal's eyes, flicked it off and then on again. The rat froze, blinded for an instant. Then it dropped to all fours and scrambled away.

“There,” he said. “It's gone. For now.”

“Where
is
your backpack?” Jason asked as they slid into their sleeping bags. “Just in case.”

“Right here,” William said. “Under my head.”

They didn't speak for a long time, but neither one of them was asleep. William could hear Jason flopping around in his sleeping bag.

“William?”

“Mmm?”

“You know, I don't like surprises. It freaks me out when things jump on me out of nowhere.”

“I remember,” William said.

“So you really think the rat can't get in?”

“It's not tall enough to come over the wall. You saw.”

“What if it tunneled under?”

“We'd hear it.”

“Yeah,” Jason said with a sigh. “I guess so.”

Finally, he stopped stirring around.

When William opened his eyes the next morning, Jason was doing push-ups on the courtyard floor.

William stretched. He was glad to see daylight. “How'd you sleep? No rats pouncing on you in the middle of the night?”

“Nope,” Jason said briskly. “But let's not hang around here all morning.”

While William made breakfast, Jason checked his equipment one more time, repacking the panniers. Then he cleaned the chain and adjusted the brakes and the gears, chatting away at William about this part and that wrench. For once William was happy for Jason's patter. It kept him from listening for other noises.

Together they lowered the drawbridge.

Jason walked out first and peered around.

“See anything?” William called to him.

“Nope. Coast is clear.”

William secured the drawbridge lever. “There won't
be anybody to raise this after we leave,” he said. “No telling what will be roaming around in here when we get back.”

“Let's talk about something else,” Jason said with a shiver. When William wheeled his bike up next to Jason, he noticed a lump under his friend's shirt.

“What's that?” he asked.

Jason lifted his shirt. A dagger in its sheath hung from his belt.

“I found it in the armory,” Jason said. “You've got the token. I need something to protect me too.”

“I knew you'd like that place,” William said. “Just hide the dagger away somewhere so it's not as obvious.”

Jason slid it inside one of his panniers.

At the top of the drawbridge slope, Jason stopped and stared into the moat. “There's water in it,” he cried. “Real water.”

William nodded. “I know. And look ahead. The path into the forest.”

“This is eerie,” Jason said. “Nobody would believe this.”

“You're not going to tell them either,” William said. “This is between us, remember.”

“I know,” Jason said. He sounded for once as if he meant it.

William turned around. “The legend has changed,” he said. Jason read it out loud.

Two squires shall cross the drawbridge
,

Shall put themselves to the test
.

Knights know much of battle

But the maiden knows the rest
.

“What maiden?” Jason asked. “Was there a maiden last time?”

“No. Only an old lady named Calendar.”

“Maybe the legend is wrong.”

“Remember what I told you about magic?” William said as he pushed off on his bike. “You just don't ask too many questions.”

“The path looks pretty solid,” Jason said as he took the lead. “Your tires should work okay even though they're thin.”

William let him go ahead. All along, the castle was waiting for us, he thought, as the branches of the trees closed over him. He wondered what lay ahead as he steered his bike toward the firmer sections of the path. When he stopped to look back, the castle had disappeared.

Jason set the pace, and for the early part of the morning, William didn't try to keep up. He pedaled along slowly. It was spring and the trees were buzzing with small birds that shrieked and twittered and darted from one fuzzy green branch to the next. Above the babble of the songbirds, he heard the occasional raucous call of a crow that seemed to say, Oh, be quiet, all of you.

Jason seemed to like sprinting ahead and then dropping back to lecture William on endurance or to tell him what he'd seen on the path. Most of all he seemed relieved to be away from the castle.

“Do you know why so many famous long-distance bicyclists have such spindly legs?” he asked William on one of his turnarounds.

“No,” William said.

“Because they're not interested in thick muscles. They're interested in the blood that gets to those muscles. The more little veins that run into these babies,” he said, leaning over and tapping his calf muscles, “the more oxygen they'll get and the farther they'll go. I read all about it this morning in my cycling magazine while you were snoring away.”