His watch was not yet over.
Until the Bell
Orso had been told to guard the gate until the bell rang.
The bell stood in the tower above the old city. The gate stood below it, between two marble lions whose faces had been softened by rain.
Orso took his place between them each morning, carrying his shield and his sword. In the evening, he stood there still.
The city had grown quiet. Vines covered the lower steps, and a tree had made a home in the council hall. The bell had not rung for a very long time.
One afternoon, a woman came up the road carrying a leather bag and a coil of rope.
“I’ve come for the bell,” she said.
Orso placed his shield in front of the gate.
“No one may pass.”
“My name is Mira. I repair bells.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mira. No one may pass.”
She looked up at the tower. One end of a wooden beam projected through a broken window. It hung lower than it had when she last saw it from the road.
“If that beam falls,” she said, “the bell will fall with it.”
A Perilous Place
Orso followed her gaze. He had noticed the beam changing position, although he had hoped it might settle where it was.
“I can’t let you through,” he said.
“Then could you go and look at it?”
“I must stay at the gate.”
“Until the bell rings?”
“That was my order.”
Mira set down her bag. “Were you told to protect the bell?”
“I was told to guard the gate.”
“And if the bell falls?”
Orso looked up again.
“Then it may ring,” he said.
“It may also break.”
He considered that. The bell had once been heard across the valley. He remembered its sound on clear mornings, and the way it lingered after the final strike.
Mira unrolled a drawing. She had sketched the tower from the road, marking the broken beam and the place where the bell hung.
“I don’t need to take it far,” she said. “My workshop is below the hill. I can repair its fastening there.”
“What would you do with it afterwards?”
“Find a safe place to hang it. I thought people might like to hear it again.”
Orso studied the drawing.
“I don’t know whether anyone still lives close enough to hear.”
“I do,” Mira said. “And I’d like to.”
The Old Rope
Orso remained at the gate while they examined the tower. From where he stood, he could see a length of old bell rope hanging through a gap near the base.
“Could that help?” he asked.
Mira followed the rope upwards. “Perhaps. If I can reach the bell from the outside, I can fasten my rope around it. Then we could lower it rather than let it fall.”
“The tower is too damaged to climb.”
“There’s a ledge on the lower wall. I could reach the bell from there.”
Orso looked at the ledge. It was low enough for Mira to reach from a fallen block, and the wall beneath it still stood straight.
He moved his shield aside.
“You may pass,” he said. “I’ll stay here and watch.”
Mira climbed onto the block and worked from the ledge. Orso watched the beam while she looped her rope around the bell.
“The fastening has nearly come apart,” she called.
“Can you release it?”
“Yes, if you can hold the rope.”
Orso took the old rope where it emerged near the gate. He wrapped it around a stone post and held it firmly. Mira tied her new rope to the bell and joined it to the old one.
“Ready?” she called.
“Ready.”
Mira loosened the broken fastening. The bell shifted. Orso felt its weight pull against the rope and braced his feet.
“Slowly,” Mira said.
He let the rope slide a little at a time. The bell descended past the broken window. When it reached the ground, Mira steadied it with both hands.
Its metal rim touched a stone.
The bell gave one small, clear note.
After the Ring
Orso’s grip tightened on the rope.
Mira looked towards him.
“That was the bell,” she said.
“I heard it.”
He remained between the two lions. The sound had faded, but he still looked up at the tower.
“What will you do now?” Mira asked.
Orso examined the open gate. Beyond it, the street ran past empty houses and the tree in the council hall. No one was waiting to come through.
At last, he loosened the rope from the post.
“I’d like to see where you take it.”
Mira smiled. “My workshop is down the hill.”
He hung his sword at his side and lifted his shield.
“Will you carry that?” she asked.
“I thought the bell might fit on it.”
Mira helped him place the bell in the centre. It sat there for a moment, then began to roll towards the curved edge.
They caught it together.
“Perhaps not,” Orso said.
Mira took a folded cloth from her bag. They wrapped it around the bell and tried again. This time it stayed in place, with Orso’s great paw resting lightly against it.
They started down the road.
After a few steps, Mira looked back. The gate stood open between the marble lions.
“Should we close it?” she asked.
Orso considered the empty street.
“The hinges haven’t moved in years,” he said. “We might need another rope.”
Mira looked at the coil in her hand.
“We have one.”
“We do.”
They stood for a moment, looking up the hill. Then Orso heard the bell shift softly against the cloth.
“Perhaps we should take this safely to your workshop first,” he said.
Livora Gracely ♥
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