The image of the token nibbled around the edges of William’s mind for a couple of days. He kept thinking about it. On Friday afternoon when he went up to the attic, he found Sir Simon had zapped a mouse with it. The knight was standing over the small dead body, cleaning the blade of his dagger.
“Where did he come from?” William asked.
“I think he smelled the food in the kitchen. I must say it does look like the kind of thing a mouse would eat,” Sir Simon said scornfully. “Anyway, I cornered him in the great hall and pointed the token at him from a safe position behind the door of the chapel. Could you bring me a fire stick from your hearth when you next come?”
“What for?” William asked suspiciously.
“I prefer my meat roasted, although I will eat the mouse raw if need be.”
“I don’t see why you have to eat him at all,” William said grumpily.
“I must keep my strength up.”
“All right, I’ll get some matches for you if you promise to get him ready while I’m gone.”
When William returned with a box of matches, a small quantity of wood shavings from the fireplace box, and some other supplies, the knight had cleaned and skinned the mouse. William struck a match and lit the small fire in the kitchen.
“I wouldn’t have to keep a fire going all night if I had those magic sticks,” Sir Simon said. “But since I cannot strike them myself, I will use the wood to keep my fire fueled through the night.”
“I’ve brought you this too in case of sparks,” William said as he put down a small mustard jar filled with water and a toothpaste cap for scooping it out. “Please be careful, Sir Simon. My father would be furious if he knew there was a fire going in the attic.”
The knight nodded absent-mindedly, and William left him humming cheerily as he turned the spit.
It was almost the end of April. Mrs. Phillips would be leaving in a week. William asked her to come and watch his gymnastics practice because she would be gone before the big meet.
“Are you still worried about the floor exercise?” Mrs. Phillips asked as they were waiting for the bus.
“Yes. I haven’t gotten it right yet. Robert says I’m being lazy, but it’s something else.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Sounds stupid, but I think I’m scared of that point where my neck hits the mat. It might snap or something.”
“That doesn’t sound stupid, it sounds perfectly reasonable. But you’ve been scared before, William, and you’ve always gotten over it.”
He smiled. “I remember how terrified I was of doing a round-off. It seems silly.” But now you’re going away, he thought, and that makes everything different.
Robert and Mrs. Phillips understood one another. She had attended William’s meets ever since he started gymnastics at the age of six. Robert had taught her how to spot William on the more difficult floor exercises, and William knew they both believed in his ability, although they had very different ways of showing it.
When they arrived at the gym, Robert directed Mrs. Phillips to a chair where she had an unobstructed view. The team warmed up and started out with straddle presses on the parallel bars. Then they moved directly to the floor exercises.
“William, we will start with your routine,” Robert said. “Don’t forget your sense of space. Before you start, you should always know where you are going to land. Are you ready?”
William looked at Mrs. Phillips. She did not smile or nod, but he could feel her concentrating on him. He walked to the corner of the mat, tightened his body, and took a deep breath. The start was slow, with a round-off followed by a whip-back and a layout somersault. By the third pass across the mat, his body and mind were working together, and he knew in that instant, just before the round-off, that he was going to make it. Two flip-flops and both shoulders touched the mat evenly for the dive roll. Up again, tight body, arms outstretched. He was standing just where he wanted to land, two feet from Mrs. Phillips. Her smile was so wide, it seemed to spread from one corner of the gym to the other.
The team burst into applause, but it faded away quickly. Everyone was watching Robert. At last he nodded his approval. “You should come to every practice, Mrs. Phillips,” he said, still looking at William. “William only gives us his best when you are here.”
“Robert’s right,” William said over dinner that night. “I won’t be able to do it that well again.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“You’ll be gone. You won’t be there to watch me.”
“William, it had nothing to do with me,” she said. “It was your mind and your body working together, concentrating on the job you had to do. I’m not your good-luck charm. I don’t think you’ll believe that until I leave.”
They played a game of chess after dinner. He watched her studying the board, lips pursed, chin in her hands.
“Is your head going to fall off?” he asked quietly, and they both smiled at the old joke. When he was younger it had been her way of reminding him to take his elbows off the table.
“Silly bishops,” she muttered, glaring at the board. “They just get in the way. I’ll give you this one if you like,” she offered.
“No way,” William replied, grinning. “I know your old tricks. That just clears the way to my queen.”
She made a face at him and went back to staring at the board. As he waited for her next move, he turned a pawn over and over in his hand. Its size reminded him of the Silver Knight.
I wish I could hold her in my hand like this, he thought. Then she couldn’t go away from me.
He sat up suddenly. He could make her small and keep her. Of course, he could. With the token.
All that day and the next, the idea grew inside him until he could think of nothing else. The day before she was supposed to leave, he went up to see the Silver Knight, who was in the stableyard thrusting his dagger into an imaginary enemy.
“You’ll be ready for anything when the time comes,” William said, settling down next to the castle.
“I do rather hope it comes soon,” the knight said, adjusting his belt. “My subjects will have completely forgotten me by the time I return.”
“It must be lonely up here all day,” William said. “It’s too bad I can’t visit more often.”
“Yes. And a bit of female companionship would not be unwelcome,” the knight said. “A lord needs a lady, William.”
“Exactly what I’ve been thinking,” William replied gleefully. “And I have just the lady for you.”
“Do you, now? And who might that be?”
“Mrs. Phillips. The Lady Elinore. Actually she knows you, although you’ve never met. She’s the one who gave me the castle.”
“And is her face fair and are her ways pleasant?” the knight asked. “I should not like to share my castle with a rough barmaid or a servant girl.”
“Very pleasant, my lord. I can’t think of anyone better.” And what would Mrs. Phillips think of sharing the castle with Sir Simon? William wondered for a moment. He put the thought quickly out of his mind. He would worry about that later.
“All right, then. When will you bring her?”
“Tomorrow night. But I’ll need the token. I’ll have to do it on the front walk just as she’s going to the bus stop. When her back is turned.”
“She does not know what you are going to do?”
William hesitated. “No, not exactly. But I’m sure she’ll be happy once she’s here.” The knight was frowning. “Under your protection.”
“As Alastor once told me, there is a price to be paid when you meddle with a person’s allotted time,” the knight said. “She will be leaving your world to come into this one. If she should do that willingly, she may reenter her own world at the exact moment she left. But unwillingly . . .” He shook his head.
“What happens?” William asked.
“She loses time in her own world. Perhaps you could warn her first,” the knight suggested hopefully. “Tell her what a strong and honest man I am. I will protect her from any harm.”
William’s head was whirling. Maybe he should have thought harder about this plan. But there was no time. She was leaving tomorrow. At last, he had what he had wanted all along, the power to keep her with him. He must not let anything change that.
“I’ll convince her,” William said firmly. “But I want you to come too. I have a special belt pack I use for long bicycle trips. I can carry you downstairs in that. Be ready for me tomorrow afternoon. She’s planning to take the four-thirty bus.”
That night William sat with Mrs. Phillips while she packed her bag.
“I hate goodbyes,” she muttered as she folded layers of tissue paper between her clothes.
“Don’t forget this,” William said, handing her the photograph from the bureau.
She took it from him with a smile and placed it between the folds of a skirt. “You haven’t been fighting to keep me here as hard as I expected,” she said. “That’s a good sign.”
“I haven’t given up yet,” William said.
“Can you sit on this suitcase for me, William? I can’t get it to close. No, don’t bounce,” she cried. “You might break something.”
He slid off the suitcase and opened it. “What’s in here?” he asked, lifting off the top layers of clothes. At the bottom, he found a green wooden box, which he took out and put on the bed.
“I made this for you in woodworking last year. I didn’t know you still had it,” he said quietly, running his finger along the piano hinge that had been so hard to set in straight.
“I keep my secret things in it,” Mrs. Phillips said.
But William wasn’t listening. He was thinking, Wouldn’t you like to stay with us forever? Live in a castle with a knight? Never leave?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Please don’t go,” he said one more time.
She put her arms around him and crushed him in one quick hug. “I’m not really leaving, you know. I will always be with you in spirit.”
“That’s not enough,” he cried. He left the room before either of them could say any more.
After breakfast the next morning, William stood awkwardly near the back door while his parents said goodbye to Mrs. Phillips. The grownups were all trying hard not to cry, and it made their voices deep and brusque.
“Please write to us once you get to England,” said William’s mother. “We want to hear all about your life there.”
“You come back and visit us, Mrs. Phillips,” said Mr. Lawrence. He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.
Mrs. Lawrence and Mrs. Phillips hugged each other for a long time. William could see the tears running down his mother’s cheeks, and he looked away.
Mrs. Phillips stood at the door and waved them away in the car, as if they were little children leaving for school. When she turned back, she noticed him still standing in the corner.
“You’ll be late, William.”
He nodded but didn’t move.
“Go on, now,” she said. “No, I haven’t changed my mind and I’m not going to. Don’t you see I can’t turn back now?” she pleaded.
“Then don’t blame me for what happens,” he said as he left.
Sir Simon was waiting for William when he climbed up the stairs after school. He could see the small man’s body pacing up and down along the wall walk.
“This school of yours takes up entirely too much of your time,” the knight exploded as soon as William was in earshot. “When I was a youth, I went to school two mornings a week for some few hours only. There were, after all, more important matters to attend to,” he added, glaring at William.
Despite his worries about what was going to happen in the next hour, William had to laugh. “I agree with you completely, Sir Simon, but I don’t think my school does. Are you ready to go?”
“Ready? Except for six turns around the courtyard and a quick lunch of mouse legs, I have done nothing but stand here attending upon your lordship. Let us get on with this business. I am eager to see the lady, and I expect she feels the same way.”
William let this remark pass.
“I want you to get in here,” he explained, unzipping the belt pack he had strapped onto his waist. He helped the knight into it and closed it, leaving a small opening so that Sir Simon could see out.
“Are you comfortable?”
“It will do,” came the muffled reply.
Mrs. Phillips’s suitcase stood by the back door. William found her in the living room.
“My last tour,” she said quickly, her eyes shining. “Quite peculiar, really, to know that I won’t see this house again.”
“You could come back for a visit,” William said.
“It would be too hard. Certain places you must never return to.”
She took her dark blue raincoat out of the front hall closet and walked through the kitchen, William trailing along behind. He could hear faint exclamations of surprise from the belt pack, but he ignored them.
“I suppose I’d better get out front, or the bus will leave me,” she said.
“I’ll take your suitcase,” he said, twisting around the kitchen table ahead of her. As he leaned over, he whispered, “Get the token ready, Sir Simon. Do it as she’s walking up the path, but make sure you wait until I’m out of the way.”
Mrs. Phillips slipped her arm through William’s, and they started up the front walk side by side, William slightly bent over with the weight of her suitcase.
“You know how I hate goodbyes,” she said, “so I don’t want you to wait for the bus. You must write to me. I will be leaving for England in a couple of weeks, after I pack up my apartment. I’ll let you know my address when I get there. Remember, you will do well in life because of who you are inside here,” she said, giving him a thump on the chest. “A brave, but gentle person. Keep your toes pointed and your body tight for the back handsprings. Believe in yourself, be your own spotter. Now give me a hug and go back into the house.”
At the last moment, just as her large arms were encircling him, William remembered Sir Simon and twisted the bottom part of his body to the side. She may have thought he was pulling away from her, because she let him go with a quick kiss. In that awkward moment, he wanted to say, You’re not really leaving, so this hug doesn’t matter so much. But of course, he said nothing, and she took her suitcase and walked stiffly up the path. Forgetting that this wasn’t really the end, he stood without moving, imprinting her on his brain. And then she was gone. Completely gone. The token had done its work.
“Sir Simon, where is she?” William cried.
“Down on the ground somewhere, I expect.”
“Hold on,” William said as he ran forward and dropped to his knees. It didn’t take him long to find her, marching stalwartly forward across what was now the great gray expanse of one flagstone, suitcase in hand.
“Mrs. Phillips,” he said in a very small voice so as not to startle her. She stopped and turned. “Look up. I’m up here.”
“Where am I?” she cried. “Who are you?”
“It’s me, it’s William.” Out of the corner of his eye, William saw a gray flash.
“Sir William, pick her up,” cried the voice from his belt pack. “The cat.”
William reached down and scooped her up, suitcase and all, just before the neighbor’s gray cat pounced on her. Very gently, he lowered her into the belt pack next to Sir Simon. “You explain everything to her,” he said to the knight. “I want to get you both back up to the attic before anything else happens.”