The Door in the Wall (11 page)

“Yes, already they are well on their way from my lord Hugh Fitzhugh’s castle,” said John. “A large force of foot soldiers and a company of lancers go by the drovers’ road, one company by the way through wood and field and another going around to attack from the other side of the town by way of Letham Bridge. It hath been agreed that we shall give the signal from the bell tower of the church. There are no better bowmen in England. The siege will be lifted. Thou’lt see!”

“I want to see it,” declared Robin. “I want to see it all!”

“See it thou shalt,” promised John. “Now, Mither, serve forth yon porridge, for I have not broken my fast this day.”

The mother bustled about, putting the porridge into a bowl for all to dip into and drawing a bench up to the table.

John laid out the little harp, put bread into his pouch, and stuck a knife in his belt. “I am no warrior,” he said to Robin. “I am but a messenger and minstrel. But who knows? I might find myself close to the enemy. Closer than I would like,” he added with a shrug.

The meal was soon over, and they made ready to start.

“Think you I can go so far again this day?” asked Robin anxiously.

“Thou hast no need to think of that,” John assured him. “I can carry thee right well, as the good friar did. The harp and the crutches we shall strap on so they will not cumber us.” He fastened the crutches to his side and the harp around Robin’s neck, so it hung down his back. “Soon thou’lt be carrying thine own harp, God willing.”

“Fare thee well, old Mother,” said John, embracing her. “Up, now, young master,” he said to Robin, and with that they left the cottage and went on their way.

“How shall we go?” asked Robin, as John strode down
the path on the way out of the village. “Shall we go by the way I came here? Or by way of Letham Bridge?”

“Neither,” answered John-go-in-the-Wynd. “I know still another way. I know a path leading through the forest to the southeast. It goeth past the priory where we shall ford the river. We can come at the town easily from there. Then we can wait for nightfall, and indeed it will be nightfall ere we arrive, but there will be a moon.

“We shall creep along the river, under cover of the reeds and willows, and enter the town through the shoemaker’s house, which is on the wall. He is known to me, and we have a signal between us. He knoweth the sound of my harp, and the certain tune I play will tell him we have need of him. From there it is quite simple to get into the graveyard of the church, thence into the church itself, and into the tower. There we shall see all and hear all if we are not deafened by the bells.”

“What an adventure to tell my father!” cried Robin.

Although he carried Robin, John trotted along at a good speed, for he knew every curve in the path. It was only a short way to the ford of the river, near the priory, and from there across fields covered with grazing sheep to the forest. There they rested. When they reached the top of the hill beyond, John pointed out the drovers’ road far below. There, glints of light on lance and pennant, helmet, and moving figures showed Robin the fast-moving company of soldiers. Because it was nearly dusk and suppertime, blue smoke rose from every chimney pot in the village they had left, and in the low places mist began to rise.

“We must make haste,” said John, lifting Robin again to his back, “or we shall be too late.”

When they had to cross open country again, John kept to the hedgerows so they would not be seen, and as they
came nearer to Lindsay, he kept well away from every barn and outbuilding.

“For aught we know the Welsh may be encamped out here on this side of the castle as well as on the other,” he explained. “They might question even a minstrel such as I. ’Tis safer for our skins to go softly.”

By the time they reached the place where the drovers’ road led, John halted before crossing the road to observe the sentry. They waited for the sound of his footsteps to die away around the town. The moon was high, and by keeping well in the shadow of a tree they were able to cross the road without being seen.

“Ah,” said John with a sigh of relief. “So far we have come safely. Soon Sir Hugh’s men will encircle the town. By then we shall be in the church tower to give the signal for attack.”

“We have not seen the enemy on this side of the town,” whispered Robin hopefully.

“No.” agreed John. “Because they have taken the town, and will be inside the walls. There is more need of outposts to the south and west, where the two bridges are, and where the roads leading from them are well traveled. The Welsh will reason that there is little likelihood of danger from this road because it is well known that Sir Peter and his cousin Sir Hugh are not on friendly terms. Sir Peter is for the King and for England. Sir Hugh is not. But they are of one family, and were once like brothers. I had little difficulty in persuading him. Sir Hugh.”

“Perhaps they will be friends from now on,” said Robin. “Perhaps Sir Hugh will be won for the King.”

“It may be.” John nodded. “Most of the lords in this part of the country are for keeping their lands to themselves. But times are changing, and we have a good king.”

“Hark!” whispered Robin again. “All is still. The sentry is at the far end of his walk. Shall we go then?”

“Aye, ’tis time,” said John. “Hast the little harp safe?”

“ ’Tis safe,” said Robin, grasping John about the neck and getting himself settled on his back.

They crept forward again, shielded by the darkness, and made their way along a narrow path that followed the wall until the rising ground told John they were near to the shoemaker’s cottage. There again they halted, to make sure no sentry was about. John, letting Robin slip to the ground, fitted the crutches under his arms and took the harp from about his neck.

The tune he played was mournful and slow, but it must have reached the ears of the shoemaker. John was just beginning to play it for the third time when there was an answer to it in the form of a bagpipe jig. Robin could see John bobbing his head up and down happily because his playing had brought forth the right response. There followed another period of waiting while the sentry passed again on the wall. They scarcely breathed until he had turned again and was going the other way. By counting his steps they knew when he was far enough away for them to act.

Then, without warning, a sort of chair was let down from a window high in the wall. John fastened Robin into it and gave the rope a jerk. Robin was hauled aloft so quickly that he had no time to think what he should do or what he should say. He found himself being lifted inside the upper room of a small house and the window drawn to. He faced a little man, who cautioned him to silence while again they waited for the sentry to come and to go.

There was no light in the room except the moonlight that came in through the window.

“This is really exciting,” thought Robin.

He wished that John had been able to come into the house with him.

He heard the “tramp, tramp” of the sentry and the thudding of the pikestaff as it struck the stone when the sentry turned at the wall of the house. The sound lessened, and once more the rope was lowered.

This time it was for John. Robin could see the iron wheel under the window which turned like a windlass to let out the rope.

In a moment John stood in the room with him. The rope and iron wheel were stored in an innocent-looking chest. The shoemaker quickly lifted the wheel out of the strong wooden block which held it covered with a flat board and cloth. The shoemaker motioned for Robin and John to follow him down the steep stair leading to the house below.

T
HEY
did not linger in the house, but with a few words to the shoemaker, left by way of the garden. There was a door in the wall leading into the graveyard of the church, where John and Robin slipped quietly from one great tombstone to another. They entered the church by the sanctuary door, startling the sacristan who slept and ate in a small room off the entrance porch.

“Who art thou?” he called, hearing the creak of the door. “Art friend or foe?”

“Hist!” warned John, stepping quickly toward the light of the lantern held by the sacristan. “We are friends. I am John-go-in-the-Wynd, minstrel. This lad is young Master Robin, friend and ward of Sir Peter. He hath this day saved us all.” The sacristan held the lantern up where he could see John’s face.

“Now I mind thee,” he said, nodding his head. “I knew thy father.”

John told the sacristan how Robin had come to warn him and to get help, and described the plan he had made with Sir Hugh to sound the bells giving the signal for attack.

“Come with me, then,” said the sacristan, leading the way.

They went down the long, dark aisle of the church to the door of the tower.

“Give me thy crutches here, young master,” said John. “Canst thou climb the ladder or wilt go pickaback? ’Tis a great height, but there are resting places.”

“I can do it,” said Robin shortly. Had he not climbed to the towers and turrets of the castle many times?

They had just reached the belfry when it was time for curfew to ring. The bells began an ear-splitting clamor.

“Down flat, and cover thy ears—quick !” shouted John.

They flattened themselves on the platform and endured the deafening sound.

“We shall go to the top first,” said John, “for it is yet too soon to give the signal, and from there we shall see somewhat.”

From the belfry to the top of the tower it was another thirty feet of climbing. When they reached the top Robin fell in a heap onto the platform with every bit of strength gone from his legs and arms. It slowly returned. In a little while he was able to rise and stand beside John, looking out over the town.

“We agreed that I should wait an hour after curfew, when the moon will be nearly overhead,” said John. “That allows time for all companies to be in place, and with the sounding of the bell to move in about the town and castle wall at once.”

“How can you tell when it has been an hour?” asked Robin.

“By the feel of it.” said John. “Besides, I shall play ‘Love a Garland Is’ and ‘Lament of a Lass.’ That will be half of the hour.” He unslung the harp from Robin’s back and began the music.

While they waited for the rest of the hour to pass, John pointed out the familiar turrets of the castle, the north tower where they had stood that day, and the tower of the keep
where the household waited for deliverance. He strummed on the harp between times.

They tried to see into the hills about the town, but saw only the quiet countryside bathed in moonlight. In the town, supper fires sent up blue smoke, and here and there was the red glare of torchlight and campfire. Glints of moonlight on helmet or shield shone from the walls where sentries walked, but very little sound could be heard at that height.

The hour was up.

“Now,” said John, “it is time for the alarm. Stay thou here, and I shall return. Cover thy ears well, but watch to see what happens.” He was gone through the hatch into the darkness below. Robin waited, his skin prickling with excitement. Would the signal be at the right time? Would the arrows find their mark and lift the siege?

Bong! BONGGG! BONGGG! BONGGG! BONG! BONGGG!!!!

The great bell rang, sending waves of sound that went out over the hills and came echoing back into the stone of the bell tower, which trembled with the vibration.

At first Robin could see nothing different from what he had seen before. Then, it was as if a part of the landscape itself moved off there toward the south, just below the edge of the town. Gathering from the slopes were tiny moving figures, now in the open, now lost in shadow. Robin searched for another sign, this time in the direction of Letham Bridge. The sign was there where he could see more clearly.

John came up, breathing hard.

“What’s to be seen?” he asked. “Are they moving? Hast seen any arrows fly?” He looked to the Letham Bridge.

Then it came.

A hail of arrows that were like dark rain sped from oncoming yeomen, dropping the sentries on the bridge and
picking off men of the guard manning the wall of the town. From where they stood Robin could see it all as plainly as if it had been a toy village set in a toy landscape, and the soldiers, toy soldiers. He saw pikemen strike down sentries of the enemy at the town gate and take prisoner the Welsh guards. He saw the company of Sir Hugh’s men enter and take the town.

It had been a complete surprise.

When John-go-in-the-Wynd saw what was happening and realized that the plan had been successful, he tossed his hat into the air and clasped Robin in his arms

“We’ve won!” he shouted. “The Welsh are routed! Lindsay is saved once more!”

Then, setting Robin on his feet again, he said,

“Stay thou here, and watch how the Welsh are marched out of the town whilst I go below. Thou’lt hear such a peal of bells as shall nigh wake the dead lying below.” Down he went again through the hatch to the belfry.

With the pealing of the bells, flares went up from castle and town, windows and doors opened. The peal of bells stopped. John came back and together they watched the lifting of the siege. They could see people running about through the streets embracing one another, tossing caps and hats into the air, and in other ways showing their joy at being freed of the Welsh invaders. In a short while they saw the enemy marched out of town.