Knight's Castle (16 page)

"And now we'll have to wait three days before we find out," said Jack.

"Oh dear," Ann wailed. "I thought I could just get away and back by myself, but if you're here, too, then it's over, just like the other times. Only if that's true, why didn't he come along? He always got home all right before. Last time, and the Flying Saucer time, and that first time when we weren't with him!"

She broke off and her face paled, as a horrid possibility dawned. "Oh dear," she said. "Magic goeth by threes."

"You mean the words only work three times for each one, and now he's had his, and he's
stuck
there?" said Eliza. "
Forever?
"

Jack nodded solemnly. "It stands to reason."

A worse thought occurred to Eliza. "And now you've made me use my third time, and if we go back again to get him I'll be stuck, too, and so will you!"

Ann set her chin stubbornly. "Maybe we won't," she said. "Maybe now I know the rune it'll be all different."

"What rune?" said Eliza.

"The ancient rune," said Ann.

"You mean you've guessed it?" said Jack.

"Yes, but I haven't time to talk about it now," said Ann. "I have to do something."

She reached down and picked the Old One up, from the castle. "Oh Old One," she said, "you needn't answer, and don't bother warming up if it's any trouble, but please couldn't you not count this time and let us go back as soon as I've finished? I know what the rune means now. Wait and see."

She put the Old One back in the castle and ran out of the room. Her feet were heard clattering on the stairs.

"Where's she going?" said Jack. He and Eliza ran into the hall and hung over the stairwell.

From below came a sound of drawers opening and shutting, and a clatter of cutlery.

"She's in the kitchen," said Jack. "What's she doing?"

"She's crazy," said Eliza. "It's all been too much for her and her mind's given way."

Ann came running back up the stairs, an intent expression on her face and something in her hand. She hurried past Jack and Eliza without a word, and into Roger's room.

"What was that in her hand?" said Eliza.

"It looked like a can-opener," said Jack.

"It couldn't be," said Eliza.

They followed Ann into the room. Ann went over to the castle and did something. Then she went to Roger's bureau. There was a big tied-up box on top of the bureau, and she undid the string and opened the lid. So far as Jack and Eliza could see, there was nothing in the box but a lot of cotton.

"There," said Ann. "Now we can go. At least I hope we can." She looked over toward where the Old One was, in the castle. "Did I guess right? Can we go now? Please?"

"You mean you interrupted everything and spoiled it all just to come back and do
that?
" said Jack.

"I told you," said Eliza. "The girl's balmy. Stark, raving daft!" But she was wrong.

And Ann paid her words no heed. "Look!" she said, pointing to the walls of the room.

Jack and Eliza looked where she pointed. There weren't any walls. And the gray mist came swirling, and it was just like the other times, only backwards, because the next moment they were standing in the park before Torquilstone Castle, and Ivanhoe and Rebecca and Robin Hood and King Richard and a whole crowd of others were standing there, too, and everybody was cheering.

The children looked to see what all the shouting was for. And then they knew.

Roger was staring at the floor, trying desperately to think of a way out, when he heard Ann utter the Words of Power.

For though Ann merely thought them, the words were so powerful that the sound of them rang and echoed through the room, and everyone heard.

And despair filled the heart of Roger.

This was the end. And now Ann had given up and deserted, and she was probably perfectly right to, and something told Roger this was his last chance, and he'd never earn his wish now.

He waited for the gray mist to carry him away, but it didn't. What he saw now was what Ivanhoe and Rebecca and Bois-Guilbert and the giants had seen on other occasions, and if Roger hadn't been beyond all caring, it would have been interesting to watch.

For a bright cloud descended and enveloped Ann and Jack and Eliza and sailed away with them, and left Roger standing right where he was.

And then he, too, remembered about magic going by threes, and he felt even worse. Not only had he failed, but he was lost here in this magic world forever! And he knew it was only what he deserved.

"Thy friends have gone," said King Richard, after a moment. "I presume thou hast sent them on some magic errand to save us?"

"No," said Roger, "I didn't. I wish I had. I would have if I could have thought of any."

"Can it be," said the king, "that they have fled?" And a frown of anger clouded his brow.

"I guess that's what they've done," said Roger, looking at his feet.

"But then surely we must despair," cried the king, paling, "if magic itself giveth us up as hopeless!"

"Yes," said Roger. "I guess you might as well. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"Dost mean that thou hast betrayed us on
purpose?
" cried King Richard, outraged. "Is thy magic
black?
"

"Not exactly," said Roger, "but it might as well be. I'm just plain no good at it. I don't have the touch. I thought I did, but I don't. And you don't know the worst part."

The worst part, of course, was about his father, but he couldn't talk about that. He could only think about it, and he did.

But it was then, in Roger's darkest hour, that help came.

Little John, who had gone to check with the guard, came running back in again.

"A miracle, sire!" he cried. "Help from the skies!"

More guards came running in after him, shouting. "The sword! The sword!" cried some. And others cried, "The statue!"

Everyone ran into the park. Sure enough, from the statue of St. George Peabody a great sword protruded. It hung at a peculiar angle, as though someone had stuck it in at the top, and then levered it down to one side.

"Behold," said Little John, "a great hand hath appeared from above, and placed it there!"

"Many have tried, but none can pull it forth," cried those who were nearest the statue, and had been trying.

"What can it mean?" everybody was saying.

But Roger had remembered the ancient rune, and he knew what it meant. At least he thought he did. And his heart gave a great leap.

And like the young King Arthur before him, he stepped up to the sword, and took it by the hilt, and it came away easily in his hands. He looked up, and there was the Old One, standing beside him smiling at him. And for the first time in all the magic adventures, the Old One spoke.

"Sword from stone the hero taketh," he said.

And then a great cheer went up from the whole multitude. For out of the cloven statue gushed a stream of rich liquid and a delicious aroma pervaded the air. And all the hungry people came with ramekins and pannikins and bowls, and drank from that fount of plenty. And a cloud of glory descended from the sky and brought Ann and Jack and Eliza with it, and Roger saw Ann smiling at him, and he realized what it was that she had done.

"Have some soup," he said, and Ann knew that in those words he was saying all the things that nobody can ever say, particularly when he is a boy talking to his little sister.

And she and Roger and Eliza and Jack agreed afterwards that it was the best pea soup they ever tasted.

It seemed to have other properties, too—added vitamins, maybe. For as its rich warmth coursed through their veins, all the knights and yeomen felt suddenly refreshed and strong again, and couldn't wait to fall upon the army of the dastard Prince.

"Follow me, Ivanhoe's men!" cried Wilfred, and Robin Hood blew his hunting horn, and all their loyal band gathered round them.

"Wait," called a voice. It was the Old One. He pointed. "The Snowbound Sleepers!"

Everyone looked.

Far in the distance whitely gleamed a snowcapped mountain nobody remembered ever having seen before. And all the people cried out, "More miracles!"

For strains of martial music were heard from the mountain, and down its side marched a company of such soldiers as the eyes of chivalry had never yet gazed upon.

"Wow!" said Jack. "The U.S. Marines to the rescue!"

"Well, sort of," said Ann, modestly.

As Eliza said later, it was like a Memorial Day parade. There were British grenadiers singing
The British Grenadiers,
and modern G.I.'s singing
The Beer Barrel Polka,
and 1918 doughboys singing
Over There
! And last and most impressive of all, marched the Spanish War veterans. "Remember the Maine!" they cried. "Remember Teddy Roosevelt! Charge!"

And the men of Prince John gave way and scattered before them and they kept on marching straight up to the castle.

Roger looked at them with love and pride, and realized that only he knew the record and capabilities of each and every one of them, and only he was fitted to be their general. Brandishing the sword he had pulled from the stone, he took his place at their head, and Jack and Robin Hood and King Richard and Ivanhoe fell into line just behind him, and the merry men followed after.

But when they saw the whites of the enemy's eyes, and Roger waved his sword in the command to fire, and when the Prince's soldiers heard gun-powder for the first time, they fell on their knees holding their ears in craven surrender, and Prince John fled all by himself.

And they hunted him over hill, over dale, through bush and through brier, till in the end he took refuge in Sherwood Forest, which was foolish of him, because Robin Hood knew every tree and every inch of it, and they found the wretched Prince at last, cowering behind a bush, alone and miserable and Leader of nobody. And they marched him back a prisoner to Torquilstone.

His judgment was pronounced by King Richard that very day, in the castle keep. All were present. Prince John made a contemptible picture, as he sniveled in the prisoner's dock.

"Come, come," said King Richard. "Crying will get thee nowhere. Thou wert ever the same, e'en when we were boys together. Nothing but a pest!"

"To the block with him!" called somebody.

"Melt him down," called somebody else, "in his own molten lead!"

"Nay," said the king. "I cannot slay my own brother, richly though he deserve it. Go forth," he said to Prince John, "to lead a hermit's life alone in the wilderness, bereft of thy title, and let all men shun thee forever."

And Prince John slunk away.

"But won't he come back and make more trouble later?" whispered Ann, who was seated on the king's left. "Later on in history?"

King Richard shook his head. "History no longer hath meaning for us now. And what is even better, after this no more terrible ideas from the world outside can penetrate here. Time standeth still from now on, and the golden age of chivalry endureth forever, now that the hero"—and here he nodded at Roger, who was seated upon his right hand—"hath set us free."

Roger started to protest at this, but now Maurice De Bracy stepped forward and knelt before the king.

"Sire," he said, "I started to say this before, but there was an interruption. I have been thy enemy in the past, but I have repented. I crave pardon and shall do any penance thou wishest."

"De Bracy," said Richard, "thou wert ever an honorable foe, and thou hast fought valiantly in the recent battles. I pardon thee."

"I crave another boon," said De Bracy. "If it please thee, set free the Lady Rowena, who now languisheth in durance vile. Traitress or not, I love her and would have her for my bride."

"Oh, very well," said King Richard, "though sooner you than me. Take her far from here and let living with her be thy penance."

And Rowena was brought from the dungeon and fell into De Bracy's arms. So
that
was all right.

There was still the quest unfinished, but Ivanhoe

and Rebecca volunteered to stop off and deliver the final installment at the Giants' Lair, on their wedding journey. And at last Ann remembered what she had done with the father giant's coattails.

She hadn't done anything with them. She had cut them off, and then forgotten about them, and put them down somewhere. They finally turned up in the scullery, where the kitchenmaid had cut them up for dishcloths. King Richard had them laundered, and Rebecca tied them up in a neat package with De Bracy's beard and the roses, which were sadly wilted by now.

And then the four children said a fond good-bye to Ivanhoe and Rebecca, who were anxious to depart on their honeymoon.

"Now we'll never know what finally became of Bois-Guilbert," said Ann.

"He's probably so reformed by now he probably won't be fit for normal life," said Eliza. "He'll probably go enter a monastery." And I believe that is probably exactly what he did.

Roger was getting anxious to depart now, too, for something told him it was time. But King Richard said he couldn't possibly leave till he and Robin Hood gave a banquet in his honor. And in spite of all that Roger could, and did, say, they gave it for him that night.