The Castle in the Attic: Chapters 1–4

“It’s more than that. I know that you are the right person for it. You have the kind of gentle soul that accepts the rules of chivalry. If you hadn’t turned out the way you did, William, I would never have entrusted the castle to you. I wouldn’t give it to just anybody.”

“You pull this lever to lower the drawbridge,” she said, reaching down inside the front tower of the gatehouse. “Then this chain raises the portcullis, that metal grating just beyond the double wooden doors.”

“This is the armory,” Mrs. Phillips explained as she pulled open the small door beyond. “The weapons are kept here.” Shields, lances, and swords were attached to the walls.

“The kitchen doors slide back. To the left is the buttery, where food and drink are kept cold, and to the right is the scullery where the dishes are washed up. That door in the corner opens to the tower stairs that lead up to the master chambers.”

On either side of the fireplace, the walls of the large banquet hall were draped with cloth tapestries.

Up above, William could just see the minstrels’ gallery, where troubadours and jesters sang to entertain the lords and ladies dining below.

Up above, William could just see the minstrels’ gallery, where troubadours and jesters sang to entertain the lords and ladies dining below.

“It’s a family tradition. You’re supposed to meet the Silver Knight on your own. My father made me do it that way,” she explained with a shrug. “You know me, I love rituals.”

He was thrown out of his kingdom long ago by an enemy of some sort, and it’s said that one day he’ll come back to life and return to reclaim his land.

The castle loomed above him, a great gray shadow.

There was an odd, expectant feeling in the attic.

William noticed the sword was missing from the knight’s scabbard, although his dagger was in place on his right hip.

He pulled the metal helmet off his head and set it down carefully beside him, smoothing the red plume with his fingers.

William stifled a giggle. He was being threatened by a seated miniature man waving a pin-sized knife!

Both were quiet as the knight adjusted the sleeves of his tunic and gave his metal shinguards a quick shine with his handkerchief.

I have to write a paper on how to build an adobe house.

He had to get the spotlight off himself so he could scrounge some food for the Silver Knight.

“Jim Harrison and I walked over the site for their new house yesterday. It should be an exciting project because of the topography of the land.”

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.”

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.

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.

"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.”

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 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.

“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...."

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.

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.

Just days before my father died, he issued various edicts through Alastor. In these, the councillors were sent on missions to neighboring kingdoms.

Alastor had moved his pallet into my father’s room, and he even ate his meals there.