The Bell in the Shield — At the bend above the wheat fields, Corvin tapped his grandfather’s dented shield and listened for the tiny bell hidden under its rim. It had not rung since winter. Read the full story →
At the bend above the wheat fields, Corvin tapped his grandfather’s dented shield and listened for the tiny bell hidden under its rim. It had not rung since winter. He wanted one clear chime before he rode back to the practice yard, so he left the shady apple tree and took the long road toward Highmere Castle, where the wind smelled of wet stone and crushed grass.
The road curled and climbed. Corvin gave his last oat cake to his horse, Briar, when the mare’s steps slowed on the muddy hill. “Just a little farther,” he whispered. At the closed castle gate, nothing moved except the high flags. Then a gull cried, the clouds parted, and the shield answered: ting, thin as a pin of light. Corvin waited instead of knocking. A second chime came from behind the gate.
Slowly, the old portcullis lifted. The guard inside held up a matching shield with a bell under its rim. “We’ve been waiting for the patient rider,” she said. Corvin came home at dusk with no oat cake, muddy boots, and the secret of Highmere tucked beside his heart. Next time you see the bend above the wheat fields, listen for that tiny bell.
