Free The Door in the Wall by Marguerite De Angeli Page B

us plan. First, I want you, Denis, to bring me the smock, and some rags to wrap about my legs. Then, see you, find me a hood that is worn and faded. Besides, I shall need long leather thongs to tie the crutches to my back, for I shall swim the river.”
    “Fear you not the soldiery?” queried Denis anxiously. “Will you not fall down the steep bank? ’Tis a far distance to the bottom of the ravine, and—” He stopped suddenly, because one of the maids appeared.
    “See to it,” said Robin with a quick nod.
    That evening there was no gathering about the fire. Everyone was restless. The hounds were still uneasy, walking about, cocking their ears at the least sound.
    Lady Constance took one of her women to examine the stores. Robin was afraid she would discover how low the water was in the well. Instead, she seemed confident that there was sufficient.
    “How fortunate we are that there is plenty of water,” she said. “Sir Peter says that our well has never failed.”
    Denis looked at Robin, knowing that he shared the secret.
    Denis, knowing Robin’s plan, was in a fidget to be through with his duties and find William the Farrier’s son and borrow his clothes. He would probably be with his father at the forge, repairing pikes and lances and heating oil for pouring onto the enemy in case they should pierce the outer castle wall.
    Robin put on his warmest under tunic and carefully put away the little harp and all the parts and tools so that they would be safe. He looked at it regretfully, hating to leave it.
    Then, when all was ready except changing his clothes, he sought out Brother Luke, for he knew that the friar would give him help and encouragement.
    Dressed in the patched and ragged smock, his legs wound about with bits of rag to hold the ill-fitting hosen, Robin tried to sleep away the early part of the night, but excitement kept him wakeful. Even when he dozed, he was aware of what he was about to do. He counted over all the things he must remember. He must go softly with the crutches. He must remember the leather thongs. As Brother Luke had told him, he mustn’t forget oil for the rusty lock of the door in the wall. He must keep D’Ath quiet.
    Just before dawn Brother Luke touched him.
    “Come, my son,” he whispered. “We shall say the office before it is time to set forth on thy mission.”
    When the prayers were finished, Robin pulled on the faded hood, tucked the leather thong inside it, and followed the friar. D’Ath rose from sleep to follow after, but Robin touched his head and whispered a command for him to stop.
    “D’Ath, stay you here,” he said, wishing very much that the dog could go with him.
    They went down a half flight of steps and across the hall of the keep to the winding stair, making their way quietly among the sleeping servants. They went very slowly, for Robin’s crutches tapped an alarm when he made haste, and the least misstep would have sent him clattering down.
    There was still fog when they came into the open, but it had begun to drift and there was a gray dawn just beginning to break.
    “Who goes there?” demanded the sentry at the door, but seeing Robin and the friar, he allowed them to pass, thinking they were bent on some holy errand.
    Robin shuddered.
    “Art fearful, my son?” asked the friar.
    “Not truly,” answered Robin, “though ’tis weird in the fog.”
    “Aye, ’tis an eerie feeling to be out in the cheerless dawn, not knowing at what moment an enemy may appear out of the fog,” agreed Brother Luke. And at that moment a face did appear, but it was only one of the guards, who thought the two were on their way to the chapel.
    They reached the sally port in the north wall without meeting anyone else. Brother Luke dripped oil into the lock before trying to open the door.
    Robin listened.
    “Hark!” he whispered. “I hear the Welsh sentry outside. We can count the paces and can tell how far away he is. One, two, three, four—” They counted forty