The Bellmaster

CHAPTER 6

The Bellchamber was well named. Not only did it house the pulling end of the bell rope, but the inside walls and ceiling were perfectly vaulted to imitate the inside of a bell. Right in the centre of the domed roof there was a hole, through which hung the bell rope, suspended like an enormous hemp clapper. The floor of the Bellchamber was perhaps twelve or fifteen paces across, depending on the length of your legs.

On the four opposite sides of the chamber there were four identical doors. One led to the stairway which wound its way upwards, around the outside of the Bellchamber and onwards up the inside of the Bellspire, to the great Bell itself. Another led to a workshop with a forge, a carpenter’s bench and rope‑winding gear. Another door led to the Bellmaster’s private apartments. The final door was the one that led from the Chamber of State; and it was through this door that Barney and Kirlmann had scuttled, very relieved to be - at least - out of the frying pan, if not yet into the fire. The Bellmaster swept in after them, closing the door behind him.

‘Mr Camponile!’ Barney looked at the Bellmaster wide-eyed.

‘Mr Camponile?’ the Beachcomber looked quizzically at Barney. ‘What you on about, boy?’
‘Barney knows me for someone else,’ the Bellmaster half-explained, ‘but we’ll talk about that later.’
Kirlmann quickly moved on. ‘Well!’ he exclaimed; ‘What a palaver! Who would’ve thought they’d have taken up like that?’

‘I must say that King of yours is a bit of a disappointment,’ Barney remarked, looking at the Bellmaster – or Mr Camponile – in some bewilderment; ‘My mum would never talk to my Dad like that – leastways, not in front of company!’

‘He’s certainly not made from the same stuff as his Great, Great, Great Grandfather.’ Kirlmann said. Then, turning to the Bellmaster, and taking him enthusiastically by the hand, he added: ‘And we’ve got you to thank, Sir; you’re a real captain, and no mistake!’

‘Don’t mention it,’ the Bellmaster smiled. ‘And don’t be too hard: their Majesties merely lack a little insight; they’ll come to understand. It would be a shame to let any present misjudgement cause them any needless embarrassment.’

‘You believe the boy’s story, then,’ the Beachcomber said, raising a quizzical eye.

‘Believe it? I know it!’ came the reply. ‘After all, I am the Bellmaster!’

‘But you’re Mister Camponile, the clock man,’ Barney protested.

‘Clock man?’ The Beachcomber gave Barney an enquiring glance. ‘What’re you on about?’ Then he turned to the Bellmaster. ‘What’s he on about, Bellmaster? The lad reckons he knows you. Calls you Mr – what is it?’

‘Camponile,’ Barney reminded him.

‘Camponile,’ the Bellmaster agreed. ‘Camponile, the clockmaker.’

‘But you’re the Bellmaster,’ Kirlmann Wader protested.

* * * * *

So just who was the Bellmaster? No one knew for sure, except that, for as long as there had been the Bell, there had also been a Bellmaster. The very first had been waiting on the Beach when the Ancient of Ancients, along with Sethmagnus and his band of survivors had landed with the Bell. He announced to Sethmagnus that the Ancient of Ancients had appointed him Keeper of the Bell. When Sethmagnus looked to ask the Ancient of Ancients if this was true, he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was he ever seen from that time onwards. But the Bellmaster remained. And Bellmaster became not only his title but his name. He drew up plans for the building of Seth Haven, its palace and the Bellspire. He showed himself, in every way, to be a master craftsman.

The years passed and the Bellmaster grew older. Then, one day a boy appeared on the quayside; a stranger to the island folk of Fa’Lacree; but it was told that he had come from one of the Outer Islands. He presented himself to the Palace along with a letter of appointment signed by the Bellmaster himself. The boy was left in the care of the Bellmaster, learning his Craft until he grew to manhood when, at the appointed time, he took to himself the mantle and name of Bellmaster.

The old Bellmaster simply disappeared from the face of Fa’Lacree. Nor did the new Bellmaster reveal the fate of his predecessor. One morning he was simply no longer there.

Eventually, in the passing of a generation, another apprentice arrived to learn the craft of the Bell, and the cycle started again. In the history of the Fortress in Exile of the Lords Merchant of Seth there had been three such Bellmasters. Each lived in good health and great vigour for many long years. And so it was with the present Bellmaster. He was old; but not a broken age, toothless and feeble. He was old grown strong, like an oak tree. Old like Mr Camponile.

Few people ever saw the Bellmaster and he was seldom, if ever, seen beyond the Palace gates, let alone the city wall. Only the regular toll of the Bell reminded people of his existence; and only the tales of the Palace Guards and Officers of the Watch proved it. In the inns and alehouses that dotted the quayside and jetties of Seth Haven, sailors, merry with drink, would sing songs about him. Proverbs and sayings were also spoken of him. Just as we might say that something happens ‘Once in a blue moon’, the good folk of Fa’Lacree would say it happens ‘When the Bellmaster goes to market’. Likewise, while we might say that someone is as ‘old as Methuselah’, the people of ­Fa’Lacree would say ‘As old as the Bellmaster’.

* * * * * *

‘Everything will become clearer in time,’ the Bellmaster said: and, without further explanation, he led his two guests across the Bell chamber to the opposite door, which led to his own private apartments. Barney and Kirlmann found themselves in a room. At one end, a log fire crackled brightly in a deep inglenook fireplace. The two adjacent walls were lined with shelves. Some were piled long and high with books, while others displayed exotic objects: the globe of a world (a world which was not the Earth that Barney recognised); exquisite abstract statues and miniature machines delicately wrought in steel and brass; objects and boxes of dark wood, inlaid with metals, ivory and mother-of-pearl.

The wall opposite the fireplace had a deep, stone window seat, lined with soft cushions, except at one end, where a huge plant sat in an ornate brass pot, its broad shiny leaves reached outwards towards the light beyond the arched glass pane.

The Bellmaster invited Barney and Kirlmann to be seated: ‘You can rest here,’ he told them. ‘No one will disturb you for now.’

Kirlmann and Barney sank thankfully into a deep couch that was drawn up close to the fire. The air was a rich, sweet mixture of the smells of musty books, leather bindings and wood-smoke.

‘Here, Beachcomber, let me find a place for the tools of your trade,’ the Bellmaster offered.

Kirlmann was so flattered to hear his bag and rake spoken of so respectfully that he gladly gave them up to the Bellmaster, who stored them on the floor of a deep cupboard, built into the corner by the inglenook.

Near the window stood a wooden cabinet, tall and richly carved. The Bellmaster walked across to it.

‘May I offer you refreshments?’ he asked, opening a cabinet door. Barney and Kirlmann accepted readily. The Bellmaster took out a tray and two goblets. He filled the goblets from a stone bottle and brought them across to his guests.

‘What is it?’ Barney asked, watching a thousand bubbles bursting to the surface of the golden liquid.

‘Try it and see,’ suggested the Bellmaster.

‘I think I know,’ Kirlmann grinned, as he sipped his drink with a smack of his lips. The flavour exploded into Barney’s mouth.

‘Wow,’ he cried. ‘‘This is fantastic! But what is it?’

‘It’s like the bellherb ale me old grandmother used to make,’ said Kirlmann. ‘But the flavour is so much finer. And just how do you get it to sparkle like that?’

‘I must admit,’ the Bellmaster agreed, ‘that it is based on bellherb ale. But with a few special ingredients of my own invention.’

‘Like what?’ asked the Beachcomber.

‘Oh ... an old family secret,’ the Bellmaster chuckled.

He turned to Barney: ‘I trust you weren’t too alarmed during your tumble into Fa’Lacree,’ he said.

‘Alarmed ? I was petrified ! ‘ Barney answered truthfully.

‘You seem very sure that Barney’s story is true,’ Kirlmann remarked.

‘I’ve told you,’ came the reply; ‘I am the Bellmaster, and such things as these concern me.’

‘Do such things as these happen often?’ Barney asked cheekily.

‘This, young Barney,’ the Bellmaster answered gravely, ‘is the time; the event! And I am well ready for you.’

‘How’s that?’ asked the Beachcomber.

‘The Bell is in danger and Barney has been summoned from the Outer Plane to help deliver us.’
Barney looked perplexed. Jack Foster? Mr Camponile? Bellmaster? Who was this man? And how was it that - whoever he was - had chosen him? The Bellmaster seemed to sense Barney’s un­spoken question.

‘Let me try to explain,’ the Bellmaster confided. He perched an elbow on his other fist and thoughtfully stroked his chin, smiling thoughtfully at the boy. ‘You and I have known each other for several years - on the Outer Plane,’ he added, eying Kirlmann Wader’s curious gaze.

‘How’s that, when you live here?’ the Beachcomber asked.

‘Well, you could say, have time on my hands and my hands on the time,’ the Bellmaster grinned.

‘What?’ Kirlmann and Barney looked at each other.

‘Well, the simplest explanation is through a Portal,’ the Bellmaster continued.

‘Where I heard the Bell and saw the pool of red flight?’

‘That’s right, Barney.’

‘But how did it get there?’ Barney asked.

‘Wait a moment; let me show you. …,’ said the Bellmaster, and he disappeared through a doorway. He returned moments later with an exquisitely eccentric contraption. It looked like a clock of some sorts: it was a round, bronze object, about the size of a large saucepan; it had a single looped handle on its outside edge and a round knob on the inside edge of the face, which was moulded and engraved with a host of sumptuous images of moons, planets and stars. The face was further divided into four quadrants, and in each quadrant there was a dial marked off with strange symbols. In the centre of each dial, and also in the centre of the device, there was a long, red crystal inserted into a clear crystal shaft.

‘These crystals,’ the Bellmaster explained, ‘were created on this island many ages ago, in the days of the Ancients. It was they who discovered the properties of the crystals and created the device around them. When I turn this handle, all the crystals revolve. By setting these dials, I can determine how they spin in relationship with each other.’
The Bellmaster set the device down on a table and, holding it firmly by the outside handle, gave the inner handle a turn and, sure enough, the crystals began to turn. And as they did so, they gave off a pulsing, red glow, which died as soon as they stopped turning.

‘The dials allow me to set where I want my light portal to appear,’ he explained. ‘And the centre crystal, the longest, is the portal key. It can be removed to open and shut any portal that I have made. In fact I may soon have need of it.’ So saying, he withdrew the portal key from its slot. It was long and slender and sparkled fiercely in the firelight, until its brilliance was extinguished in the depths of the Bellmaster’s deep pocket.

‘So that,’ he concluded, is more or less how you came here. I’ll explain a little more to you later. Now, Barney, where were we? Ah yes – why you?

‘Well; to say you were chosen sounds rather dramatic; but it’s the only way to put it. Someone had to be chosen and … well you fitted the bill exactly! Knowing you as I do, I know that you have the qualities which will help us to overcome the problems that I’m expecting.’

‘But how … ?’ exclaimed the Beachcomber; ‘How in all the Realm of the Islands could you possibly know what’s going to happen?’

‘ I can see many things through the Crystal Sphere,’ he added.

‘Crystal Sphere?’ Kirlmann Wader raised a furrowed brow.

‘What’s that?’ asked Barney.

‘Another contraption of mine,’ the Bell­master explained. ‘I’ll show you in a while. Meanwhile, there are some things even I don’t know yet. But …,’ and he smiled grimly, ‘I’m sure all will be revealed.’

‘When, exactly’?’ Kirlmann enquired warily.

‘Well,’ the Bellmaster replied - he returned the Beachcomber’s gaze – ‘I suppose there’s no time like the present!’
Kirlmann was beginning to look uncomfortable. The effects of the bellherb ale were wearing off and a little trickle of concern ran through him. He stood up.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘All this weird talk is beginning to unsettle me instincts. I’ve no place here, I can tell. Not an old sand crab like m’self. You, Bellmaster, or whoever you are, and Barney here seem to have things all sewn up; I’ll only get in the way now, so I think I’d best be off.’

‘Just stay where you are,’ the Bellmaster ordered; ‘I’ll have great need of you, too!’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the Beachcomber objected.

‘Well I do’‘ came the firm reply. ‘Now stay, there’s a good fellow!’ And if kings and queens obeyed the Bellmaster then so would beachcombers. Kirlmann sat down.

‘So what do I do now?’ Barney asked, looking restlessly around him.

‘Barney! Do forgive me!’ the Bellmaster cried; ‘Come, Beachcomber,’ he said, ‘We are forgetting our manners. We must show our guest around.’ He strode through a door­way and returned with a hooded cloak.. ‘Here,’ he said to Barney; ‘put this on. It’ll keep the sea wind out of you and help to make those clothes of yours less con­spicuous.’
Barney put on the cloak, while the Bellmaster put away the portal generator.

‘You look almost-civilised, now,’ Kirlmann Wader laughed, as Barney paraded around in the cloak. He was totally taken with his appearance, and if Barney ever wondered whether his parents would be worried by his absence, well he didn’t have time to let it bother him. He and Kirlmann looked suitably impressed.

‘Yes,’ agreed the Bellmaster. ‘That will do nicely. Now ­shall we go? We’ll leave your things here for now, Master Kirlman,’ he added; ‘they’ll only get in the way. However, there are one or two items that I’ll need.’ Without any further explanation, he strode across to a shelf and collected a small wooden box, which he stowed safely in a pocket within the folds of his cloak.

The Beachcomber and Barney looked to see by which door the Bellmaster would lead them through. But, to their surprise, he stepped across to the large, open fireplace and twisted a carving in the surround­ing stonework.
The lapping flames in the grate showed the back wall of the hearth swing open, to reveal a hidden passageway behind. Kirlmann and Barney gasped in astonishment as the Bellmaster ushered them past the iron firedog and into the tunnel.

‘There’s no point in being too conspicuous,’ he murmured. As he entered the tunnel behind them, he took up a burning brand from the fire, to light the way. As he turned to close the door - he caught a glimpse of a head bobbing back behind the curtain across the Bellchamber door. He smiled to himself and pulled down a wooden lever on the inside wall; and with a sigh of stone against stone, the secret doorway closed behind them.