CHAPTER 10
Perhaps therE is nothing more delightful in the romance of
boyhood than the finding of some secret hiding-place whither a
body may creep away from the bustle of the world's life, to
nestle in quietness for an hour or two. More especially is such
delightful if it happen that, by peeping from out it, one may
look down upon the bustling matters of busy every-day life, while
one lies snugly hidden away unseen by any, as though one were in
some strange invisible world of one's own.
Such a hiding-place as would have filled the heart of almost any
boy with sweet delight Myles and Gascoyne found one summer
afternoon. They called it their Eyry, and the name suited well
for the roosting-place of the young hawks that rested in its
windy stillness, looking down upon the shifting castle life in
the courts below.
Behind the north stable, a great, long, rambling building,
thick-walled, and black with age, lay an older part of the castle
than that peopled by the better class of life--a cluster of great
thick walls, rudely but strongly built, now the dwelling-place of
stable-lads and hinds, swine and poultry. From one part of these
ancient walls, and fronting an inner court of the castle, arose a
tall, circular, heavy-buttressed tower, considerably higher than
the other buildings, and so mantled with a dense growth of aged
ivy as to stand a shaft of solid green. Above its crumbling crown
circled hundreds of pigeons, white and pied, clapping and
clattering in noisy flight through the sunny air. Several
windows, some closed with shutters, peeped here and there from
out the leaves, and near the top of the pile was a row of arched
openings, as though of a balcony or an airy gallery.
Myles had more than once felt an idle curiosity about this tower,
and one day, as he and Gascoyne sat together, he pointed his
finger and said, "What is yon place?"
"That," answered Gascoyne, looking over his shoulder--"that they
call Brutus Tower, for why they do say that Brutus he built it
when he came hither to Britain. I believe not the tale mine own
self; ne'theless, it is marvellous ancient, and old
Robin-the-Fletcher telleth me that there be stairways built in
the wall and passage-ways, and a maze wherein a body may get
lost, an he know not the way aright, and never see the blessed
light of day again."
"Marry," said Myles, "those same be strange sayings. Who liveth
there now?"
"No one liveth there," said Gascoyne, "saving only some of the
stable villains, and that half- witted goose-herd who flung
stones at us yesterday when we mocked him down in the paddock. He
and his wife and those others dwell in the vaults beneath, like
rabbits in any warren. No one else hath lived there since Earl
Robert's day, which belike was an hundred years agone. The story
goeth that Earl Robert's brother--or step- brother--was murdered
there, and some men say by the Earl himself. Sin that day it hath
been tight shut."
Myles stared at the tower for a while in silence. "It is a
strange-seeming place from without," said he, at last, "and
mayhap it may be even more strange inside. Hast ever been within,
Francis?"
"Nay," said Gascoyne; "said I not it hath been fast locked since
Earl Robert's day?"
"By'r Lady," said Myles, "an I had lived here in this place so
long as thou, I wot I would have been within it ere this."
"Beshrew me," said Gascoyne, "but I have never thought of such a
matter." He turned and looked at the tall crown rising into the
warm sunlight with a new interest, for the thought of entering it
smacked pleasantly of adventure. "How wouldst thou set about
getting within?" said he, presently.
"Why, look," said Myles; "seest thou not yon hole in the ivy
branches? Methinks there is a window at that place. An I mistake
not, it is in reach of the stable eaves. A body might come up by
the fagot pile to the roof of the hen-house, and then by the long
stable to the north stable, and so to that hole."
Gascoyne looked thoughtfully at the Brutus Tower, and then
suddenly inquired, "Wouldst go there?"
"Aye," said Myles, briefly.
"So be it. Lead thou the way in the venture, I will follow after
thee," said Gascoyne.
As Myles had said, the climbing from roof to roof was a matter
easy enough to an active pair of lads like themselves; but when,
by-and-by, they reached the wall of the tower itself, they found
the hidden window much higher from the roof than they had judged
from below--perhaps ten or twelve feet--and it was, besides,
beyond the eaves and out of their reach.
Myles looked up and looked down. Above was the bushy thickness of
the ivy, the branches as thick as a woman's wrist, knotted and
intertwined; below was the stone pavement of a narrow inner court
between two of the stable buildings.
"Methinks I can climb to yon place," said he.
"Thou'lt break thy neck an thou tryest," said Gascoyne, hastily.
"Nay," quoth Myles, "I trust not; but break or make, we get not
there without trying. So here goeth for the venture."
"Thou art a hare-brained knave as ever drew breath of life,"
quoth Gascoyne, "and will cause me to come to grief some of these
fine days. Ne'theless, an thou be Jack Fool and lead the way, go,
and I will be Tom Fool and follow anon. If thy neck is worth so
little, mine is worth no more."
It was indeed a perilous climb, but that special providence which
guards reckless lads befriended them, as it has thousands of
their kind before and since. So, by climbing from one knotted,
clinging stem to another, they were presently seated snugly in
the ivied niche in the window. It was barred from within by a
crumbling shutter, the rusty fastening of which, after some
little effort upon the part of the two, gave way, and entering
the narrow opening, they found themselves in a small triangular
passage-way, from which a steep flight of stone steps led down
through a hollow in the massive wall to the room below.
At the bottom of the steps was a heavy oaken door, which stood
ajar, hanging upon a single rusty hinge, and from the room within
a dull, gray light glimmered faintly. Myles pushed the door
farther open; it creaked and grated horribly on its rusty hinge,
and, as in instant answer to the discordant shriek, came a faint
piping squeaking, a rustling and a pattering of soft footsteps.
"The ghosts!" cried Gascoyne, in a quavering whisper, and for a
moment Myles felt the chill of goose-flesh creep up and down his
spine. But the next moment he laughed.
"Nay," said he, "they be rats. Look at yon fellow, Francis! Be'st
as big as Mother Joan's kitten. Give me that stone." He flung it
at the rat, and it flew clattering across the floor. There was
another pattering rustle of hundreds of feet, and then a
breathless silence.
The boys stood looking around them, and a strange enough sight it
was. The room was a perfect circle of about twenty feet across,
and was piled high with an indistinguishable mass of lumber--rude
tables, ruder chairs, ancient chests, bits and remnants of cloth
and sacking and leather, old helmets and pieces of armor of a
by-gone time, broken spears and pole-axes, pots and pans and
kitchen furniture of all sorts and kinds.
A straight beam of sunlight fell through a broken shutter like a
bar of gold, and fell upon the floor in a long streak of dazzling
light that illuminated the whole room with a yellow glow.
"By 'r Lady!" said Gascoyne at last, in a hushed voice, "here is
Father Time's garret for sure. Didst ever see the like, Myles?
Look at yon arbalist; sure Brutus himself used such an one!"
"Nay," said Myles; "but look at this saddle. Marry, here be'st a
rat's nest in it."
Clouds of dust rose as they rummaged among the mouldering mass,
setting them coughing and sneezing. Now and then a great gray rat
would shoot out beneath their very feet, and disappear, like a
sudden shadow, into some hole or cranny in the wall.
"Come," said Myles at last, brushing the dust from his jacket,
"an we tarry here longer we will have chance to see no other
sights; the sun is falling low."
An arched stair-way upon the opposite side of the room from which
they had entered wound upward through the wall, the stone steps
being lighted by narrow slits of windows cut through the massive
masonry. Above the room they had just left was another of the
same shape and size, but with an oak floor, sagging and rising
into hollows and hills, where the joist had rotted away beneath.
It was bare and empty, and not even a rat was to be seen. Above
was another room; above that, another; all the passages and
stairways which connected the one story with the other being
built in the wall, which was, where solid, perhaps fifteen feet
thick.
From the third floor a straight flight of steps led upward to a
closed door, from the other side of which shone the dazzling
brightness of sunlight, and whence came a strange noise--a soft
rustling, a melodious murmur. The boys put their shoulders
against the door, which was fastened, and pushed with might and
main--once, twice; suddenly the lock gave way, and out they
pitched headlong into a blaze of sunlight. A deafening clapping
and uproar sounded in their ears, and scores of pigeons, suddenly
disturbed, rose in stormy flight.
They sat up and looked around them in silent wonder. They were in
a bower of leafy green. It was the top story of the tower, the
roof of which had crumbled and toppled in, leaving it open to the
sky, with only here and there a slanting beam or two supporting a
portion of the tiled roof, affording shelter for the nests of the
pigeons crowded closely together. Over everything the ivy had
grown in a mantling sheet--a net-work of shimmering green,
through which the sunlight fell flickering.
"This passeth wonder," said Gascoyne, at last breaking the
silence.
"Aye," said Myles, "I did never see the like in all my life."
Then, "Look, yonder is a room beyond; let us see what it is,
Francis."
Entering an arched door-way, the two found themselves in a
beautiful little vaulted chapel, about eighteen feet long and
twelve or fifteen wide. It comprised the crown of one of the
large massive buttresses, and from it opened the row of arched
windows which could be seen from below through the green
shimmering of the ivy leaves. The boys pushed aside the trailing
tendrils and looked out and down. The whole castle lay spread
below them, with the busy people unconsciously intent upon the
matters of their daily work. They could see the gardener, with
bowed back, patiently working among the flowers in the garden,
the stable-boys below grooming the horses, a bevy of ladies in
the privy garden playing at shuttlecock with battledoors of wood,
a group of gentlemen walking up and down in front of the Earl's
house. They could see the household servants hurrying hither and
thither, two little scullions at fisticuffs, and a kitchen girl
standing in the door-way scratching her frowzy head.
It was all like a puppetshow of real life, each acting
unconsciously a part in the play. The cool wind came in through
the rustling leaves and fanned their cheeks, hot with the climb
up the winding stair-way.
"We will call it our Eyry," said Gascoyne "and we will be the
hawks that live here." And that was how it got its name.
The next day Myles had the armorer make him a score of large
spikes, which he and Gascoyne drove between the ivy branches and
into the cement of the wall, and so made a safe passageway by
which to reach the window niche in the wall.
