Goblins in the Castle Page 3

  As always, it was swathed in a thick mist.

  What was in there?

  I decided to ask Karl.

  The library was pleasantly warm that morning, with big fires burning in the huge stone fireplaces at either end. Weak autumn sunlight streamed through the windows, making puddles of light on the old carpet. The Baron sat at his desk studying a huge book with yellowed pages. “Morning, Jasper,” he muttered as I walked past.

  “Good morning, sir,” I said, annoyed that, as usual, he had forgotten my name.

  Karl sat at the far end of the library repairing the binding of an old book.

  “How are you today, William?” he asked when I walked up.

  “Just fine,” I replied. I watched him for a moment, admiring the way his long fingers could work the glue and the leather to make the repair mark almost invisible. When he was finished I said, “Karl, why is the North Tower locked?”

  His fingers slipped, making a botch of the careful work he had just done. He didn’t seem to notice. “Why do you want to know?” His voice was low, almost a hiss.

  “Well, it’s the only place in the castle I can’t go. There must be some reason.”

  “I’m sure there is,” said Karl, his voice even lower than before. “But I don’t know what it is. And I wouldn’t ask him if I were you,” he added, gesturing toward the Baron with a nod of his head. “I asked once, and it almost cost me my job. It’s something we don’t talk about. I’ll say this, though: Anything in this castle that’s locked probably has good reason to be. So I wouldn’t go messing with it if I were you.”

  “But—”

  “That’s all I have to say about it!” snapped Karl.

  I turned and walked away, puzzled and angry.

  I decided it was time to go see Igor. The trip was easier now that I had made it a couple of times, and it seemed to take less time to reach his cell.

  “William!” he cried joyfully when he saw me at the door. “Glad you here!”

  “I brought something for you,” I said, reaching into my shirt and taking out the slab of bread I had saved for him.

  Igor’s eyes lit up. “Food!” he cried, reaching for it. Snatching the bread from my fingers, he turned and began to stuff it into his face.

  “I’m glad you like it,” I said, surprised and amused by his reaction. Feeling a sudden fondness for Igor, who might have been odder than anyone else in the castle but was at least willing to talk to me, I patted him on the back.

  “Don’t do that!” he screamed, spinning around and staring at me with a look of anger so intense it made me fear for my life. His fists were clenched, and he was trembling with rage.

  I shrank against the wall, well aware that he could tear me limb from limb if he wanted.

  He started toward me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE TOWER DOOR

  “Igor, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Stupid William,” he snarled. “You can’t hurt Igor!”

  He stepped forward again.

  I knew I couldn’t stop him, but I put my hands up anyway. The gesture was enough to make him pause. He stared at me for a moment, then turned away. When he turned back the torchlight reflecting in his eyes showed a pain so deep I knew it had not been caused by my brief gesture.

  “You can’t hurt Igor. But don’t you never, never, never touch Igor on the hump! Never! ”

  He turned away, clumped to the wall, and began pounding on it. One stone actually began to come loose under the force of his blows. Blood covered his knuckles.

  I ran to him, grabbed his arm. “Igor! Listen, Igor, I’m sorry! I won’t ever do it again! I promise!”

  He kept pounding, shaking me back and forth. For a moment I was afraid I would have my brains dashed out against the dungeon wall. Suddenly he stopped and slumped to the floor. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head against the wall.

  “Get bear,” he said. “Igor want bear.”

  I searched frantically for the bear, finally found it in the pile of rags where Igor slept. When I put it into his hands he clutched it without opening his eyes.

  I sat down beside him, no longer afraid. For a long time neither of us said anything. Finally I decided I should just go. But when I started to stand Igor opened his eyes. “Why you come see Igor, William?”

  Why? Well, I was frustrated because I couldn’t get solid answers from anyone. I had hoped that Igor might have some information—though now that I thought about it, that didn’t seem likely, especially given the previous night’s conversation.

  Then I realized the real reason that I had come.

  “I like you,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Igor like William,” he replied, giving me an affectionate little bop with his bear. He stared at me for a moment, then asked, “Where William come from?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied truthfully.

  “Don’t know?” he repeated, sounding puzzled.

  “No one seems to know,” I said, and then I told him the story of how the Baron had found me on the drawbridge.

  He looked worried.

  “What’s wrong, Igor?”

  “Don’t know,” he said, wrinkling his brow so that his deep-set eyes nearly disappeared. “Story make Igor think of something. But what? What?” He began to knock his knuckles against his bald head. “Think, Igor,” he muttered. “Think, think. Think, think.” Finally he looked up. “Igor hate it when he got to think,” he said in despair. He sighed. Then he jumped up and said, “Igor got to go!”

  “Go where?” I asked, feeling confused.

  “Got to talk to someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked at me for a moment, then picked up his bear and shook it in my face. “See bear?” he asked, as if it were possible for me to miss it.

  I nodded.

  “Like to get bopped?”

  I shook my head, wondering if he was about to bop me for asking too many questions. But I had misunderstood. He was trying to make a point. “Igor don’t like to get bopped either. Igor say too much, Igor get bopped.”

  “You mean someone will hit you with a bear?” I asked, trying to sort this out.

  He shook his head. “Bear Igor’s! No one else get to bop with it. But like that. Igor don’t want to get in trouble. Igor hate being in trouble. Now William go, so Igor can go ask questions.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  “Bad idea!” he said, so fiercely that I decided not to argue.

  Annoyed and discouraged, I trudged up the five hundred steps. The last thing I wanted was one more secret, one more thing someone wouldn’t talk about. I hated it!

  I went to the Great Hall on the main floor. Slipping through the metal bars of the cage that rose from the center of the floor, I climbed onto the back of the huge stone toad that gave the castle its name. This was one of my favorite thinking spots.

  I had asked Karl a number of times where the caged toad came from, why it was there, what it stood for. He always told me that he didn’t know.

  As I thought about it, I realized that whenever he had told me that, I had believed him, had had no sense that he was holding something back from me. It had been different when he talked about the North Tower. Then he had seemed to be hiding something, had almost seemed frightened.

  I had one person left to ask: the Baron. Despite the fact that Karl had warned me not to, I decided to try. The problem was, I had been trained early on to wait until the Baron spoke to me before saying anything. So I had never just gone up to him and asked a question before. I decided if I went where he was, he might speak to me. Then I could ask my question.

  Despite my curiosity, I felt some reluctance to go to the Baron. Instead of climbing the stairs to the library I found myself meandering about the Great Hall, examining with fresh interest things with which I was already quite familiar—the huge chandelier that hung from the m
iddle of the ceiling, the suits of armor that lined the wall, the collection of cannonballs from great battles that rested on the mantelpiece of the enormous fireplace. When I found myself counting the cannonballs for the third time I decided I had put things off long enough and returned to the stair.

  • • •

  I found the Baron at his desk in the library, absorbed in a book. As I waited for him to notice me I studied his face. It was red and round, as was his nose. His white eyebrows sprouted out in all directions. He had a bushy white mustache, puffy sideburns, and a fringe of hair around his pale, bald head. Each time he turned a page he blew through his lips, making a wet, fluttering sound.

  Suddenly he looked up and noticed me. His eyes were enormous, intelligent, and penetrating—the only truly intimidating things about him, actually, but so ferocious that when he turned them on me I wanted to sink into the floor.

  “Hello there, Gerald,” he said cheerfully. Then he slammed the book shut and walked away.

  I clenched my fists, trying to decide whether I was angrier about losing my chance to ask about the tower or the fact that the Baron couldn’t be bothered to remember my name.

  I looked for another opportunity to ask about the tower at dinner. But Karl was dining with us, and I didn’t want to bring it up in front of him. Candles flickered in the candelabras. Spiders worked furiously in the corners. Karl stared at his plate. Hulda bustled silently back and forth. I tossed pieces of hard bread to the rats that scurried along the walls. The only sound was that of the Baron slurping his soup.

  I went to bed frustrated and angry.

  A strange thing happened that night. The noises began to change. Before, they had always had a sad, faraway quality. Now they were louder, almost impatient. Again I began to think they were trying to say something.

  And then, so distinctly that there could be no mistaking it, they called my name.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

  I pulled the covers over my head and hunkered into my bed. What was going on? Were the voices really speaking, or had I somehow imagined it?

  Was I going crazy?

  I waited for them to speak again—dreading the sound, yet wanting confirmation that I wasn’t losing my mind. But they didn’t come again. At least not that night.

  I huddled under the covers for hours, not falling asleep until the night was nearly gone, and only then because I simply could not stay awake any longer.

  When I went to visit Igor the next day he wasn’t there. I began to worry. Had something happened to him? I wished desperately that he was in his cell so I could talk to him.

  Back upstairs, I tried again to speak to the Baron but couldn’t find a chance. Though he was in the library until noon, he was immersed in a book and simply did not notice me. Then a visitor arrived—the second in as many weeks, which was surprising, since we often went months with no one approaching the castle save the old farmer who delivered our supplies. The visitor was tall and wore a dark cloak with a hood that covered his face. The Baron did not seem happy to see him but did not try to send him away, either. They went to a private room to speak. That was the last I saw of the Baron for the day.

  I wandered the halls, angry and frightened. Finally I decided to go to the North Tower. Maybe I would see something that would help me understand what was happening.

  • • •

  The door to the North Tower was in an alcove, set slightly aside from the main hall. As I stared at it, I was terrified to see it begin to change. Its solid wooden face had always been bare of decoration. But as I watched, a design began to appear. Slowly at first, and then faster, silvery lines began to form, creating a five-pointed star woven all around with strange signs and symbols.

  Then, from the other side of the door, something called my name.

  I turned and ran.

  • • •

  That night, which was Halloween, the voices returned, louder than ever. Shortly before midnight they began to whisper my name again: “William. Willllliaammmm.”

  “Go away,” I said, pulling the covers up to my neck and wishing that Igor was with me.

  “Williammmm! Come open the door!”

  “Stop bothering me!”

  “Willliammmmm, Williammmmm . . .” On and on, until I thought I was going to lose my mind.

  I was terrified, but the voices were impossible to ignore. And after a while their call began to draw me, pull me. It was hard to resist them. I was tired. I had barely slept for the last several nights. And I admit I was curious.

  “Willlliaaammmmm! Willlliaaammmm, come open the doooor!”

  I flung the covers aside and got out of bed. I told myself that I was going to shut the voices up, going because I was angry.

  I don’t know if that was true. I do know that when I heard the clock strike midnight a change came over me. Though the voices were calling more insistently than ever, I suddenly felt that this was a truly bad idea. But when I decided to turn back, I couldn’t. Whatever was going on had me in its grip, and I could no more turn back than I could stop breathing.

  I was wearing nothing but my nightshirt. The stone floor was cold against my bare feet. But those feet continued walking as if they were not mine at all, carrying me toward the North Tower.

  “Williammmm,” moaned the voices. “Come open the door! We’re so eager to be free.”

  I tried to stop, tried to grind my feet against the floor so that they wouldn’t move. I couldn’t do it.

  Soon, too soon, I was standing in front of the door.

  The silvery design that had appeared to me earlier in the day was back, glowing a warning through the darkness. “Danger!” it seemed to say. “Keep away. Do not open! ”

  The door said one thing, the voices another. “Open the door,” they pleaded. “Oh, pleeeaaase, William, open the door!”

  I found myself reaching forward and pulled back.

  The voices grew more demanding. “William—the door!” they whispered fiercely. “William—the door!”

  Again I felt my hand reaching forward.

  “No!” I cried. Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced my hand back to my side.

  “Williammmmmm!” moaned the voices, so sadly it was as if the castle itself was speaking with a broken heart. “Don’t leave us here. Open the door. This is the time. This is the hour. This is why you are here! William, open the door!”

  This is why you are here! The words burned inside me like the torch in Igor’s cell. Why was I here, why had I been brought to the castle? Was it to open this door? Was that my purpose, my job? I had felt so long as if I didn’t really belong, didn’t fit, that the idea that this was my reason, that this was what I was here to do, was more than I could resist. I trembled as I felt my hand begin to rise.

  “William,” crooned the voices, “we will love you forever if you just open the door for us. Open the door. . . .”

  Tears in my eyes, I reached forward.

  “William!” cried a new voice from behind me. “Don’t!”

  I didn’t turn to see who was speaking, didn’t need to; I knew the voice well. Besides, I couldn’t have turned if I had wanted to. I was rooted to the spot.

  “William!” cried Karl again. “Wait!”

  “The door, William!” hissed the voices, more urgently than ever. “Now, before it’s too late. Open the door before the time is gone. This is why you are here. This is why we will love you. The door, William. Open the door! ”

  Reaching forward, I put my hand on the latch.

  “William, don’t do it!” cried Karl.

  Too late. When my hand closed on the latch the door that had been locked for all those years burst open so violently it nearly knocked me over. I had not pulled on the door; it was as if my touch itself had been enough to free whatever was behind it.

  A shriek of triumph filled the night as something came rushing past me—something real, yet no easier to touch than mist. It was shapes and voices, a sense of strange powe
r flowing past and around me. The air rang with mad shrieks, and a kind of gibbering laughter went careening down the hall.

  I slid to the floor, shivering with fear and remorse.

  After a few minutes Karl crawled over to sit beside me. I saw that he was trembling, too. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said.

  “What did I do?”

  “I’m not sure.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’ve been trying for years to figure out what was locked in there, William. Whatever it was, I think it would have been better for you to leave it there.”

  A strange silence had settled over the castle. The door to the tower hung open. The area beyond it was dark, darker even than the dungeons, as if a curtain of darkness was suspended across the doorway. You couldn’t even see the steps. A draught—bone-chilling, heart-chilling—flowed from the opening. I stood to close the door.

  “Wait,” said Karl. “I want to look up there.”

  I was surprised; he was braver than I thought.

  Stepping past me, he peered through the door. After a moment he stepped back. “Can’t see a thing,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “Hold the door open,” I said. “I’ll go up a few steps.”

  He looked at me in surprise. But I had spent so much time wandering around in the darkness that this didn’t seem as bad to me as it obviously did to him. I did want him to hold the door, though. I feared that if it swung shut, it might not open again for hundreds of years.

  I stepped over the threshold and cried out in shock. What waited on the other side of the door was nothing. For a moment I thought I was falling, because there was nothing beneath my feet. Then I realized I wasn’t moving at all, simply floating. The darkness was so complete I felt as if I had been swallowed by night itself.

  Reaching forward, I tried to find something to touch.

  Nothing.

  I tried to walk. Nothing to press my feet against.

  “Karl?”