The Castle in the Attic (4 page)

He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table and went up to the attic, turning over and discarding his various plans for making her change her mind about leaving. None of them seemed right. He knew he had to do something soon. He was so distracted
by these thoughts that he almost tripped over the castle.

“Young man, hold up, hold up,” cried the Silver Knight, who was standing on the wall walk, waving frantically at William's knee.

“Sorry,” William said, dropping down beside him. “I was thinking about something. I didn't see you.”

Sir Simon looked indignant at the thought that anybody could forget about him. “In your world, sir, I may be small, but in my own, I am known as a man to be reckoned with.”

“I'm sure of that, Sir Simon,” William replied quickly. Working his penknife out of his front pocket, he chopped a slice of apple into tiny chunks and put them down on the battlements of the wall. It didn't seem proper to put a knight's food on the floor. “I brought you something to eat,” he said. “I'll bring you more after dinner.”

Sir Simon ate quickly, spearing each piece of apple with his dagger. William lowered the drawbridge, and the knight joined him at the top of the attic stairs, glancing cautiously about him as he scrambled across the wide planks of the floor. William lifted him carefully up onto a trunk that had been pushed against the wall.

“To defend yourself against any unseen enemy, you should always keep a wall at your back,” Sir Simon
remarked as he settled into a comfortable sitting position.

“If you don't mind, sir, I want to know where you came from and how you got here,” William said.

“I thought you would have some questions when you returned, young man. I cannot answer them all.”

“Can you tell me what you do know, then?” William asked.

“Certainly. I hope you are comfortable because this tale will take me some little while to tell.”

William nodded. “Please start.”

“Very well, then. I was the only son of my father, Lord Aquila, a noble and powerful knight who was, at the end of his life, a very sick man. He contracted an unknown disease that caused his limbs to weaken and shake so that, for days at a time, he would take to his bed. We called in respected doctors from all over the land and even from across the ocean. They did no good, although they charged high fees. It cost us dearly to board their servants and stable their horses while they took their time considering the matter of the disease and conferring with one another.”

At this point, the knight, clearly upset, got to his feet and began pacing back and forth. William was worried that he might fall off the edge of his lookout. But after a while, he grew calmer and sat down again.

“At that time,” Sir Simon went on, “there was a
wizard in my father's kingdom by the name of Alastor. Some months before my father grew ill, this man had arrived at the castle one morning, seeking employment, and my father had taken pity on him. He was a raggle-taggle sort when he first appeared. His robe was torn and dusty, and he talked of having traveled long distances and having suffered much. From the beginning, I was more suspicious of his story than my father and pressed Alastor for details. He gave none.

“At first, Alastor seemed perfectly harmless. He was given a room down near the kitchen where he sometimes invited me to help him mix up potions and salves that were supposed to straighten crooked bones and settle upset stomachs. He had a wardrobe in the room that he always kept locked, and I noticed he was careful never to open it when I was there.

“The more I saw of Alastor, the less I really knew him. He was a man of secrets, some of which he told me, but more often I heard tales of the wrongs that had been done him. The stories were garbled and I didn't pay much attention to the details, but I sensed even then his desperate need to control people, to have power. Let me give you an example.

“Around his neck, the wizard wore a length of woven ribbon from which dangled three medals or tokens. Once, early on in our acquaintance, when he still trusted me, he pulled that necklace out of his robe and showed
it to me. In the middle hung a small, flat disk made out of lead. At the time, I did not find it particularly interesting. I know better now. Hanging from the ribbon, on either side of the disk, there were two halves of one medal that showed the two faces of Janus. They had hinges, and Alastor told me that they could be fitted together when necessary but he preferred to use them separately.”

“The word January comes from Janus, doesn't it?” William asked.

“Precisely,” Sir Simon said. “I see your education has not been entirely neglected. Janus guards the gates of heaven and looks both ways in time. But the image of Janus on Alastor's necklace had an evil, magical power. One half of the token made things small, and the other restored them to their normal size. The symbols beside Janus' head on each surface were different. The side that made things small showed two staffs, the instruments of punishment. The other side showed two keys.

“I saw him work this magic on a rat. When he pointed the staff side, the rat shrank to the size of a toy. When he used the side with the keys, the rat returned to normal. I am convinced that most of Alastor's magic lay in that necklace, but I never learned much more about it because after a while he grew secretive around me.

“Meanwhile, my father got steadily worse. The doctors were totally mystified. I suppose I was the one who thought of asking Alastor for help, though now I curse myself for the idea. He came and sat by my father's bed, asking about the symptoms and making a long list in some strange language. The next day, the wizard began administering an evil-smelling potion to my father, who took it reluctantly, as the taste was as bad as the odor. To our amazement, he appeared to get better. The palsy seemed less violent, and my father had long periods of peace when he could rest.

“It was not until much later that I realized the drug that helped him sleep was also slowly poisoning him. Alastor was hailed as a genius by all of us, and my father insisted that the wizard be given a large bedroom right next to his own. To everybody's relief, the doctors were bundled off to wherever they had come from.

“My father became quieter with every passing day, and he slept a great deal. When he was awake, he insisted that Alastor stay near him, for he felt the wizard was responsible for his recovery. I often came in to find them deep in conversation, and my father began to grow suspicious of me and of his own trusted councillors. Alastor was poisoning his mind and his body at the same time.”

William's legs were beginning to ache, so he shifted position.

“I am taking too long to tell this story,” Sir Simon said quickly. “I will hurry. Just days before my father died, he issued various edicts through Alastor. In these, the councillors were sent on missions to neighboring kingdoms. They objected, knowing my father was near death. It meant that they would have to return to the kingdom through the forest. Alastor had put some sort of spell on the forest to protect our kingdom from attack, and we knew the councillors would not be able to get back through. We were convinced Alastor controlled my father's every action, but my father would not even see us to listen to our arguments. Alastor had moved his pallet into my father's room, and he even ate his meals there. The councillors had no choice but to leave, and after that, my only friend in the castle was my old nurse, Calendar, who had been with me since birth. She and I sat up late into the night discussing plans for defeating Alastor, but they came to nothing.

“My father died at last, and if there is anything I can thank Alastor for, it is that he went peacefully and without pain. But I can never forgive Alastor for turning my father against me. At the end he would not speak to me at all, saying that I had been a traitor to him and to our kingdom.” Sir Simon stopped speaking and covered his face for a moment.

Then he went on. “The day after the funeral, Alastor
came to my room and showed me a paper that my father had signed before he died. It proclaimed that Alastor was to succeed my father as I was not fit to rule. Calendar was with me at the time. I was dressed in a full suit of armor, as I was about to review the guard. I ripped the paper to shreds, and the two of us attacked the wizard. Alastor pulled the necklace from under his robe, pointed the lead disk at me, and mumbled a word. I reached up and snatched at the necklace, which fell off his neck. One half of the Janus medal came away in my hand. He lunged at me and tried to get it back, but I curled my fingers around it and held on. Calendar was trying to pull him off me, but I could not help her because by that time, Alastor's spell had begun to work. The bottom half of me had already turned to lead. I could not move my feet or bend my knees.”

The knight shuddered, remembering that moment. “It was horrible. I cried out to Calendar but she was no longer struggling with the wizard. They were both watching me, he with a terrible smile on his face, and Calendar . . .” The knight stopped speaking for a moment as if he were trying to work out something in his mind. “I realize now that Calendar deserted me in the end. It was too late to save me, and she must have known she would be left behind with the wizard. At the very last moment, as my face was growing smooth
and cold, Alastor flipped the lead disk and pointed the other side at me. Then everything went black. And the next thing I saw was you.”

“So the other side of the lead disk made you small?” William asked.

“No, it must have sent me here. I am not small in my own country, young man, only in yours.” The Silver Knight patted the pouch that hung from his belt. “This is the weapon that makes things small, the token I stole from Alastor.”

“How do you know it still works?”

“Why, I had not thought of that,” said the Silver Knight, pulling apart the drawstrings of his pouch. “I suppose we had better test it out on something.”

William glanced around him. “Here, try this,” he said, placing an old pincushion on the ledge in front of the knight.

Sir Simon extended both arms, and, holding the token before him like a shield, he pointed it directly at the pincushion. Nothing happened.

“I remember Alastor muttered something when he used it on the rat,” the knight said.

“Try the word ‘small,' ” William suggested.

“Small,” said Sir Simon.

The pincushion remained the same. They tried five or six other words, but still nothing happened.

“Perhaps it only works on living things,” Sir Simon said. He glanced up at William thoughtfully.

“Oh, no, you don't,” William said, standing up. “You can't try it on me because you couldn't make me big again. There'd be nobody to bring you food, and you'd be in terrible trouble when Mrs. Phillips came looking for me.”

“It was only an idea, my dear sir. Do not alarm yourself,” Sir Simon said. “But how else will we know if it works?”

“I know, I'll bring you a bug or something tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the attic door opened down below. “William,” Mrs. Phillips said. “I've been calling you. It's dinnertime.”

William reached down and scooped up Sir Simon so that the knight was safely hidden in his hand by the time Mrs. Phillips started up the stairs. “I'm coming,” he said quickly. Mrs. Phillips stopped at the tone in his voice and gazed up at him.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes, just fine,” he said as casually as he could. “I'll be there in a minute.” He could feel Sir Simon squirming inside his hand, so he loosened his hold enough to give the little man some air.

“All right, then,” she said as she headed back down
the stairs. “Don't forget, you've still got your homework to do, and we haven't practiced the back handsprings in two days.”

“That was close,” William said as he set Sir Simon on the wall walk. The knight was gasping for air, and some minutes went by before he was able to speak.

“My dear sir, more gently, if you please. I am no longer made of lead.”

“Sorry, it had to be quick,” William explained. “Listen, if you ever hear the attic door open and I knock three times on the wall, that means you must hide quickly because somebody is with me.”

The knight nodded.

“See you later when I bring up your dinner.”

“Until then,” Sir Simon said weakly.

“I'll catch a bug tomorrow,” William added as he went down the stairs.

William managed to sneak an entire miniature meal upstairs after dinner. He didn't hang around to talk with the knight because he still had history homework to do. He left Sir Simon digging enthusiastically into his bits of ham and baked potato. William had even found a top from an empty vanilla bottle and filled it with milk for the knight to drink.

The next day Jason bugged him again about the castle.

“Come on, William. After all the stuff you've told me about it, I want to see it,” Jason complained.