The Castle in the Attic (12 page)

But William didn't need to say more. The boy's expression had changed again.

“It's no use,” he said. “If he went off the path, he'll never find his way through the forest. Nobody ever has before. And you won't be able to defeat Alastor on your own.”

“I came through the forest on my own,” William said. The boy didn't seem to be listening. “I have to get on my way. Remember what I told you,” he called from the top of the next rise, but the boy had already climbed back to his post on the stone wall. He didn't even raise his hand to wave goodbye.

William stomped rapidly over the next two hills, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and the forest. The dust rose with each footstep, and he looked around for some sign of water. Although it was full summer, only a few ears of corn and some stunted grain grew in the dry brown fields. He saw people in the distance standing idly about, watching him. Someone moving briskly across the landscape at any hour was obviously an object of interest.

“Hey, there,” he called to one young man. “Where can I find some water?”

The man pointed further down the road and turned away quickly. When William glanced back over his shoulder, the man was watching him. Around the next corner, he came to a bridge that crossed what must once have been a pleasant stream. The water had dried
up in all but the deepest pools, but William was so thirsty, he lay down in the dry streambed and put his face in a puddle. The water tasted brackish, and he took only enough to wet his mouth.

He knew by the position of the sun that it was early afternoon, and he pressed on even though his legs had begun to tire. He longed to lie in the cool shade of a tree for an hour or so. He didn't know why he was in such a terrible hurry because, with the Silver Knight gone, he had no plan to defeat the wizard. In fact, when he thought about it, he wondered whether Sir Simon had ever had a plan himself. The knight acted as if he could march right up to the castle door in a full suit of armor and run the wizard through with his sword. But all Sir Simon's sharp weapons and long hours of training had done him no good the first time, so why would they work now? And if a well-trained knight with a sword and a helmet could be turned to lead, what would happen to a mere squire with a puny dagger and a quaking heart?

William was striding along, thinking all these things over, when someone called to him. He looked up to see an old man sitting on a rock under a tree.

“Young fellow, come over here, will you?”

William hesitated. He wanted to reach the castle that day if possible, and he didn't want to hear any
more terrible stories about the power of the wizard.

“I'm awfully sorry, but I'm in a hurry,” he called, taking a few more steps. The man looked sad at the sight of William moving away so quickly.

“I need your help,” he said.

William turned back and looked more closely at the man. He was dressed in the shreds of a long tunic, and the surface of his face was as wrinkled as the skin of an old apple.

Be compassionate to the needy
, said Sir Simon's code. William supposed his quest could wait a few minutes.

“How can I help you, sir?”

The man leaned backward and looked up the tree, which was quite difficult for him, as the upper part of his body was curved over his lap so that his nose almost touched his knees. William had the feeling he might tip off his perch and roll away. “Do you see that apple way at the very top?” he asked.

William looked up. This apple tree seemed taller than most. Its leaves hung down, limp and dusty, as if exhausted by the length and heat of the summer. From the highest branch hung one dark apple.

“Yes, I see it,” William said.

“Could you climb up there and pick it for me, young fellow? I have not eaten since yesterday, and the emptiness in my stomach has begun to pain me terribly.”

“I have a little bit of bread I could give you.”

“No, my boy, I'm afraid only the apple will do.” He sounded so sad when he said this that William had the feeling he had said it before. William grasped the lowest branch and hoisted himself up.

The old man spoke again. “Remember, boy, while you are climbing you must not look down or you will never reach the top. And when you get the apple, do not take a bite of it or both of us will always go hungry.”

William did not reply. Everybody in this country seemed eager to tell him not only what to do but how to do it.

At first, he rather enjoyed the climb. It was breezy this high off the ground, and William stopped once or twice to look at the countryside. He could see his road curving off across a series of pastures. In the distance, he thought he saw the towers of a castle, but it was hard to make them out because much of the horizon was covered by a long black cloud of smoke. He glanced up every now and then, but the apple didn't seem to be getting any closer.

“This is the tallest tree I've ever climbed in my life,” he said out loud just to keep himself company. His voice startled two birds, who flew away in a rush. “If I could fell this tree and lay it on its side, I'd be halfway to the castle by now.”

He stopped again to catch his breath. He was about
to look down when he remembered what the old man had said. “Sir Simon,” he cried. “Where are you now that I really need you?” The thought of his friend plunging endlessly through the dark forest kept him staring at the sky.
Follow the rules. Don't look down. Don't stray off the path
.

The upper branches of the tree were thin and delicate. They swayed in the lightest breeze. William had to concentrate very hard on the dark red circle at the top to force himself up the rest of the way. The apple came off easily in his hand, and when he had maneuvered down to the sturdier branches, he stopped to study it.

Never had he seen an apple with such a smooth, dark skin or felt such firm flesh. He longed for a bite. His last drink had been the stagnant water in the streambed, and this endless climb in the sun had made the sweat stand out on his face and neck. Surely one little bite wouldn't hurt. He had just opened his mouth and put the dark, firm skin against his teeth when he saw two birds flying toward the tree. They were coming right for him, and he had to scamper down to the next branch to get out of their way. He put the apple back to his mouth when, with a babble of chirps, they came for him again.

He ducked. “All right, all right,” he shouted. “I
know I'm not supposed to eat it.”

To distract himself from the apple, he half climbed, half slid down the tree at a terrific rate. He reached the bottom in much less time than it had taken him to climb to the top.

The old man snatched the apple from him with a cry of joy and took an enormous bite. Before William's eyes, his twisted old shape was transformed into the tall, straight body of a young man, who threw his arms around William and gave him a bone-crushing hug. Then the two strong arms pushed the boy away and shook him a bit. William felt like an old sack.

“You have broken the wizard's spell for me,” cried this new person who could not stop clapping William on the back.

“All I did was bring you the apple,” William said. “Please, sir, could I have a bite of it? I haven't drunk anything since early this morning, and the hot climb made me thirsty.”

But to William's horror, the young man threw the apple as far into the field as he could. “You must not bite that apple, for it has a spell on it. But do not worry. I have something else for you to eat, and anything that is mine, you are welcome to.”

With that, he reached into a sack under the bench and produced a series of small bundles wrapped in rags.
In just a few minutes, he had spread a picnic of bread and cheese and dark cider beneath the tree. “Set to, my boy.”

The young man stared intently at William while he ate. William began to squirm under his gaze.

“Please, don't look at me that way, sir. I didn't do anything special. I would have bitten into the apple if the birds had not warned me away from it.”

“Not many people have bothered to stop and listen to my request, and only one went up the tree. He looked down and was never seen again.” The young man stood up and stretched. “It feels good to have my own body back. I have been imprisoned inside that old man's shape for years.”

“Why did the wizard put the spell on you?”

“I was caught stealing apples. My baby boy was very sick, and the doctor said he must eat apples every day to cure his disease. The orchards were already wasting away. The wizard's servant caught me stealing a bag of apples from his storeroom, and Alastor put this spell on me. That was in the old days when he amused himself by making up new and interesting spells. I understand that now he is bored and grumpy with his life, and he just uses the old spell that always worked best.”

“And what's that?” William asked.

“He turns everybody to lead. He keeps the important people or the beautiful maidens or the particularly bad villains in a special gallery so that he can admire them whenever he wishes.” The man shrugged. “But they say even that does not keep him amused anymore, so he is searching for a fool to entertain him. Of course, nobody has applied for the job, but if one doesn't come forward soon, Alastor will send his men out into the countryside to find one. Woe to that poor fellow, whoever he is.”

By this time, William had finished most of the food that had been set before him. “I don't seem to have left you much,” he said. “I didn't realize how hungry I was.”

The man laughed. “That one bite of the apple will suffice me for a long time. Pack up the rest and take it with you. Where are you headed?”

“The wizard's castle,” William said quietly.

“Oh, no, my boy, you cannot go there. Come along with me. I am going back to search for my wife and child to take them out of this accursed land. Join us.”

“I'd like to, but I can't. I must go my own way.”

“You know, of course, that a dragon guards the gate to the castle,” said the young man.

“No, but I did see a cloud of black smoke on the horizon when I went up the tree.”

“The land around the castle is parched from his fiery breath. You must give up your foolish plan. Nobody can pass into the castle without Alastor's permission.”

“Thanks to you, I have an idea. Alastor is looking for a fool, and I'm an acrobat. I can play my recorder and turn some cartwheels. Perhaps that will help get me into the castle.”

“In some ways, you
are
quite the fool, my boy. But if you are so determined to go, let me tell you a little secret I learned when I was younger. My wife's mother was Calendar, the nurse to Simon, the king's son. When Alastor first came to the kingdom, she used to spy on him to learn his secrets. He paid her no notice, thinking her a foolish old woman. She came out of the castle only once after Sir Simon was defeated and sent away. Alastor had begun his ‘reforms,' and the people were already beginning to suffer under his rule. Soon after Sir Simon left, the wizard set a dragon at the gates of the castle to guard him against attack. That dragon was Calendar's cat, transformed. On that last trip out of the castle, Calendar looked haggard and worn. Her body was bent over, much like mine was just an hour ago, and in her eyes there was a haunted look, as if she had seen miseries beyond telling. ‘Alastor will not let me come again, Dick,' she said. ‘But I will tell you what I know now.'

“Then she told me how to defeat the dragon. As long as you look directly into his eyes, the dragon's fire cannot harm you. The most horrible scenes will be reflected in his eyes, and you will want to look away. But you must resist, because if you avoid looking at him, you are finished. Keep telling yourself they are only illusions. When you get close enough, plunge your dagger into his right thigh. That is the only place where the blade will sink in. Then he will be under your control. Do you understand?”

William nodded wearily. There seemed to be so many things to remember, so much to overcome, and he hadn't even reached the castle yet. He got to his feet and packed away the food in his leather pouch.

“I must be off,” he said. “Thank you for your help. I have good news for you too. I have met your son. He greeted me when I came out of the forest. He is alive and well.”

“How do you know he is my son?” Dick asked, grasping William by the arm.

“He told me that his grandmother was the Silver Knight's nurse.”

“So you know Sir Simon was called the Silver Knight? This is too much.” The young man stepped back and eyed William once more. “There is a legend . . . ,” he muttered to himself. “About a boy.”
Then he shook his head. “It cannot be.” He walked with William up the road a bit. “Good fortune to you,” he said. And he stood there waving until William turned the corner.