The Sword in the Tree by Clyde Robert Bulla

WELDON CASTLE

1
    The boy sat up in bed. A sound in the night had wakened him.
    His room was so dark he could see nothing, but he could hear steps outside his door. He held his breath and listened.
    â€œShan!” said a voice.
    He let his breath go. It was his mother, calling his name.
    â€œYes?” he said. “What is it?”
    Lady Marian came into the room. She had a candle in her hand, and the light moved over the stone walls.
    â€œShan, I’m glad to find you here,” she said. “I was afraid you had gone with your father.”
    â€œWhere has my father gone?” asked Shan.
    â€œOne of the servants just wakened him and they went away together,” she said. “I heard them speak of a wounded knight.”
    â€œA wounded knight?” said Shan.
    â€œYes,” said Lady Marian. “Shan, what does it mean? Is someone making war on us? Are there enemy soldiers outside?”
    â€œDon’t be afraid, Mother,” said Shan. “Our good King Arthur has beaten all our enemies. And even if there were enemies, we would be safe here. There is no stronger castle in England than ours.”
    He went to the window. A light was moving in the courtyard below.
    â€œMother, I’m going down there,” he said.
    â€œI don’t think you should go,” said Lady Marian.
    â€œNo one is fighting,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
    He put on his clothes. He ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. There was a light near the castle gate. He went toward it.
    At the gate he found his father. Some of the servants were there, too. One of them had a lighted torch in his hand.
    â€œFather—” Shan stopped. On the stones at his father’s feet lay a man. A long, black beard hid his face. Two of the servants were taking off his armor.
    â€œWho is he?” asked Shan.
    â€œNo one knows,” said his father. “He beat on the gate. We let him in, and he fell in a faint.”
    â€œMy lord, I have found his wound,” said one of the servants.
    Shan’s father looked at the wound in the man’s side. “Bring him into the castle at once,” he said.
    The servants lifted the wounded man. They carried him into a bedroom in the castle.
    â€œHas he lost much blood?” asked Shan.
    â€œI think so,” said his father. “The wound is deep.”
    â€œShall I bring Nappus?” asked Shan.
    â€œNappus?”
    â€œYes. Nappus is a man of magic. He can make the knight well.”
    â€œPoor Nappus.” Shan’s father shook his head. “He knows no magic. But he was once the best of doctors.”
    â€œHe is still the best of doctors,” said Shan. “Remember how he took the fishbone from your throat? Remember how he bound up my arm when it was broken?”
    â€œYes, yes,” said his father. “Go and bring him if you wish.”
    Shan took a lighted torch from one of the servants and ran out across the courtyard. He opened a door in the castle wall. It was the door to Nappus’ room.
    Nappus was sleeping, with his cloak over his head. Shan touched him. Nappus looked out from under the cloak.
    He was a small man. His hair was white. He could neither hear nor speak, but his eyes were keen and bright.
    â€œThere is a wounded knight in the castle,” said Shan. “Come and dress his wound.”
    Nappus watched Shan’s lips, reading the words. He nodded to show that he understood. From a box in a corner he took some jars and bottles. He tied them up in a cloth.

    Shan led the way to the castle. Nappus knelt by the wounded man. He washed the wound and dressed it. He opened the man’s mouth and poured a little red wine down his throat.
    The man moved. His eyes opened, and he looked at Nappus. “Lord Weldon!” he said in a whisper. “Where is Lord Weldon?”
    Shan’s father came forward. “I am Lord Weldon. You are safe in Weldon