The Sword in the Tree (3 page)

Lady Marian was sitting by the window. “Now are you glad you did not go on the hunt?”

“Yes, Mother,” he said. “It is a poor day for hunting.”

“Your father will come home wet and cold,” she said. “We must have a good fire ready for him.”

Shan was at the window. “I think I see the men coming now.”

“Oh, no. It is too soon.”

“But I see men on horseback.”

They looked out into the rain.

“Yes,” she said. “Now I see them.”

They watched as the men came nearer.

“Where is my father?” asked Shan.

“I do not see him,” said his mother, “but I see your uncle.”

“There is one horse without a rider,” said Shan.

“Yes,” she said, “and your uncle is leading it.”

“That is my father's horse!” said Shan.

“But your father—! Shan, he is not with the others!”

She ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. Shan ran after her.

They were waiting there in the rain when Lionel and his friends rode up to the castle.

“Where is my father?” asked Shan.

The men looked at one another. One by one they rode away until only Lionel was left.

Shan's mother spoke to him. “Where is my lord?”

“I bring sad news,” he said.

“What news?” she asked.

“Do you know the quicksand on this side of the river?” said Lionel. “My brother rode into it. His horse saved himself, but my brother was lost. We saw him go down in the quicksand. We were too late to save him.”

Lady Marian's face was white. She started toward the castle, walking as if she could not see. Shan helped her across the courtyard and up the stairs to her room.

“Don't leave me,” she said.

Lionel came up to the room. “Dear lady, what can I say? This is a terrible day for us all.”

“Go away,” she said. “Leave me alone with my son.”

For many days Lady Marian did not leave her room. She wanted no one near her except Shan.

Every day someone from the kitchen left food outside the door. Every night wood was brought to the room.

It was a time of fog and cold. Sometimes there was not enough wood to keep the room warm.

“I'll go tell them to bring more,” Shan would say, and his mother would say, “Don't leave me, Shan. Stay with me. You are all I have now.”

One night, as they sat by the fire, she said, “Hear the men singing and laughing below. They do not care how sad we are.”

“Let me go speak to them,” he said.

“No, don't leave me,” she said.

“Mother, we cannot always stay in this room,” said Shan. “Some day I must go out, and so must you.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Yes, that is true,” she said. “Go, then.”

He went down the stairs. Lionel and his friends were at the table in the great hall. Servants were bringing food and wine. They were servants Shan had never seen before.

He stood in the doorway. “Look, you!” he said. “This is a sad time for my mother and me. If you must make your noise, make it somewhere else.”

Lionel set down his wine cup. “These are my friends,” he said, “so take care how you speak to them.”

“Take care how you speak to me,” said Shan.

He went back to his mother. “There are strange faces here,” he said. “I do not know what it means.”

In the morning he went to the kitchen and the garden and the stables. Everywhere he went, he saw new faces. Most of the old servants were gone. New ones had taken their places.

Shan saw his uncle riding across the courtyard. He spoke to him. “Who brought in new servants and sent the old ones away?”

“Some of my friends have come here to live,” said Lionel. “They brought their own servants. We had no need of so many, and I sent some of the old ones away.”

“Why did you not ask me first?”

“Why should I have asked you?”

“Now that my father is gone,” said Shan, “
I
am Lord Weldon.
I
am master of the castle.”

“You?” Lionel threw back his head and laughed. “You are a boy!”

He started to ride away. Shan saw that he wore a sword with a gold hilt. The hilt was set with red stones.

“Stop!” he cried. “Why do you wear that sword?”

“Why should I not wear it?” asked his uncle.

“It was my father's,” said Shan. “Now it is mine.”

“This is a sword for a man, not a boy. Out of my way!” Lionel rode off across the courtyard.

Shan looked after him. He said in a low voice, “The sword is not his. It is mine, and I'll have it back.”

That night, when everyone else was in bed, he went down to the great hall. A fire still burned in the big fireplace. By its light he could see the room. On the wall behind his uncle's chair was the sword.

He took it down and put it back into its box. He looked about for a place to hide it. There was no place in the great hall.

He went out into the garden. His first thought was to bury the box in the ground. Then he looked up at the oak tree and remembered the hollow in its trunk.

In the great hall he found a piece of rope and tied it to the box. With the rope about his shoulders and the box on his back, he climbed the oak tree. He found the hollow in the trunk.

There were sticks and leaves in the opening. He pulled them out and pushed the box inside. It fell softly into the hollow.

He climbed down. He felt his way through the quiet garden and into the castle.

In the morning he met his uncle in the courtyard.

“The sword!” cried Lionel, in a rage. “What have you done with the sword?”

“The sword is in a safe place,” said Shan.

“Bring it to me. Bring it at once.”

“The sword is mine,” said Shan.

Lionel lifted a hand as if to strike him. Shan did not move. Lionel let his hand fall to his side.

“Listen to what I say, and listen well,” he said. “If the sword is not back in its place by tomorrow, I'll have you in the dungeon!”

“You forget that I am master here,” said Shan, “and now I am going out to find our old servants and friends and bring them back.”

He went to the stables. A stableman opened a window and looked out at him.

“Saddle a horse and bring it here to me,” said Shan.

“I cannot, sir,” said the man.

“You cannot?”

“No, sir,” said the stableman. “Not until my master bids me to.”

“
I
bid you to,” said Shan. “
I
am your master.”

“No, sir. My master is Lord Lionel.” The man closed the window.

Shan was about to beat on the window and shout “Bring me a horse, or I'll make you pay for this!” Then he looked up and saw Nappus by the castle wall. The old man looked at him and slowly shook his head.

Shan knew that the old man was trying to tell him something. He started over to the wall. Again Nappus shook his head, and he made a sign for Shan to go away.

Shan told his mother that night, as they sat by the fire, “Most of our old servants are gone, but Nappus is with us still.”

“I am glad of that,” she said.

“It may be that my uncle is afraid to send Nappus away,” said Shan. “He thinks Nappus is a man of magic.”

“Poor Nappus is no man of magic,” said Lady Marian, “but he does know many things, and he is our friend. I wish we had more such friends—”

“Listen!” said Shan. “Did you hear someone on the stairs?”

“No,” she said.

“It may be my uncle, looking for the sword,” he said.

“What sword?”

“The sword that was my father's,” said Shan. “I have it hidden. My uncle says if I do not give it up, he will have me in the dungeon.”

“Give him the sword,” she said.

“I
never
will!” said Shan.

“But what if he takes you to the dungeon?”

“Listen!” said Shan again.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“If it is your uncle, give him the sword,” she said in a whisper.

Shan opened the door. The man outside was not his uncle. It was Nappus.

Nappus' cloak was wet from the fog. There were drops of water on his beard.

He looked quickly from Shan to Lady Marian. He knelt by the fire and raked some ashes out upon the hearth. With his finger he made some marks in the ashes.

Shan and his mother bent over the hearth.

Nappus rubbed out the marks and made some more.

“What is he doing?” asked Shan.

“He is writing words in the ashes,” said Lady Marian.

“Can you read them?” asked Shan.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes!”

She took up a candle and held it over the hearth. The candle shook in her hand.

It seemed a long time before Nappus was through writing in the ashes. When he stood up, he looked at Lady Marian.

She nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

He knelt and kissed the hem of her dress. He threw his cloak about him. Like a shadow he was gone.

Lady Marian sat down and put her hands over her face. “Oh, Shan, what shall we do now?”

“What were the words in the ashes?” he asked. “What did they say?”

“Shan, listen to me. Because Nappus cannot hear, most people think he cannot understand. But he can look at their faces and read their lips. Today he read your uncle's lips as he talked to one of his friends—”

Her voice broke.

Shan bent over her. “Mother, what is it?”

“Your father did not die in the quicksand,” she said. “He fell into a trap that was laid by your uncle.”

Shan looked at her. He could not speak.

“Now,” she said, “you and I are in the same danger.”

“But
why
? What did my father do?” he cried. “What have
we
done?”

“Softly, Shan. Do you not see? With you and your father and me out of the way, your uncle will be lord of Weldon Castle.”