The Door in the Wall

“Thou hast only to follow the wall far enough and there will be a door in it.”

For days Robin was cared for as if he were a little child.

Brother Luke brother him food, kept him washed, and changed his clothes, but he was too much occupied with other things to stay with Robin for very long at a time. The bells clamored as loudly as ever, but now the sound was associated with the regular procession of the monks going to devotions.

Robin grew to like it.

Never before had Robin done anything of the kind for himself. […] Now, he could hardly wait to begin something else. He would like to carve one of those dwarfs, for example, such as those in the roof bosses in his father’s house. Brother Luke suggested something easier.

“Patience, my son,” he said. “It takes great skill to carve figures like that. Why not make a simple cross? ‘Twill be fit to hang over thy cot if ’tis well made and smoothly finished. I’ll find some piece of wood and will show thee how to begin.”

“The lad meant no offense when he called thee ‘Crookshanks,’ Master Robin. Tis but the way we all are named; for some oddity we have, or for where we live, or for what we do. The boy is called Geoffrey Atte-Water, because he lives by the River Fleet and tends the conduit there with his father. He was so called before he limped as he does now.”

“Treacherous misguided tool!” [Robin] shouted. “I’ll have no more of you!”

Brother Matthew looked up in astonishment. “’Tis not the tool that is at fault, but thine unskilled hands,” he said quietly. “If thou’rt to lean to use it, patience and care are better teachers than a bad temper.”

“Today in the garden I felt that soon I should walk,” said Robin. “I must get well before my father returns from the wars.”

“Whether thou’lt walk soon I know not. This I know. We must teach thy hands to be skillful in many ways, and we must teach thy mind to go about whether thy legs will carry thee or no. For reading is another door in the wall, dost understand, my son?”

Robin smiled and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I see now what you mean by the door in the wall.”

It was more exciting to work at a real bench, to draw the sharp knife along the clean wood; to hear it “snick” as the knife took hold, then slither off into shavings. The oak was very hard, and took real strength to work, but swimming had given Robin good muscle in his arms, so that little by little he was able to shape the staff.

Several weeks went by before Robin finished the crutches. But at last they were done, and he could hardly wait to try them.

[Robin] watched John’s fingers as they searched out the tune, how they danced on the strings to make the differing chords. He noticed the smooth wood of the harp and how the strings were held with wooden pegs. He wished he could play on it, and wondered if he could make such an instrument.

Robin stood with his back to the wind, holding his cloak about him. This was a real adventure. Even though he might never be a knight in armor and go to battle to defend England, he would know what it was like to make his bed on God’s earth, feel the prick of rain in his face, and instead of brocaded bed curtains, see dark clouds making a canopy over him.

When they reached the stream, Brother Luke said, “’Tis best for thee to go into the water as always, so off with thy clothes, Master Robin.”

“But it is cold, and flesh creeps at the thought of it,” said Robin, shivering.

“Come, my son. Doth thy father stop to say, ‘I cannot go into battle for my King because arrows are sharp’? Off with thy clothes, I say, else thou’lt lose the strength and skill thou has begun to have. ’Tis a long way from freezing.” While he spoke he lifted Robin down and helped him to undress and go into the river.

At first Robin’s teeth chattered, but in a few moments he was warmer and glad he had made the effort.

Sir Peter kept Robin’s hand in his and spoke directly to him. “Each of us has his place in the world,” he said. “If we cannot serve in one way, there is always another. If we do what we are able, a door always opens to something else.”

There it was again, Robin thought, a door. He wondered whether Sir Peter meant the same thing that Brother Luke had intended.

It was more difficult for Robin to go down the circular stair from the top of the keep than it had been to go up. Each step was set on a center newel, and the steps fanned out from it. Robin had to keep to the outside wall to allow room for the crutches to spread far enough to bear his weight. John went ahead of him to catch him in case he should fall.

“I shall get the way of it soon,” said Robin. Before the day was out, he found it easier. They had gone up and down stair after stair; up to the watchtowers and the belfry of the chapel. To the kitchens and storerooms, to the armory and down to the dungeons.

“I know not what to think about that.” Brother Luke sighed. Then he lifted his head and said firmly, “God alone knows whether thou’lt straighten or no. I know not. But this I tell thee. A fine and beautiful life lies before thee, because thou hast a lively mind and a good wit. Thine arms are very strong and sturdy. Swimming hath helped to make them so, but only because thou hast had the will to do it. Fret not, my son, none of us is perfect. It is better to have crooked legs than a crooked spirit. We can only do the best we can with what we have. That, after all, is the measure of success: what we do with what we have. Come, let us go on.”

“Thy mother will know and love thee always, my son,” the friar assured him. “Whether thou’rt bent or straight, well or ill, knight or clerk, lord or minstrel.”

Brother Luke took Robin each day, as before, to swim. They followed the path to a place near Letham Bridge. “It will be good for thee even in the chilly autumn weather,” he comforted, when Robin shivered at the thought of the icy water. “It sends the blood flying through thy veins to warm thee. Besides, it strengthens thy body and, best of all, it strengthens thy spirit to do a hard thing.”

“What an adventure to tell my father!” cried Robin.

It was nearly dawn when Robin felt himself lifted onto Brother Luke’s back, for he had fallen asleep.

“Where am I?” he asked in bewilderment. “What has happened?”

“Thou’rt here, Sir Robin,” said the friar. “Safe with all thy loved ones. ’Tis the Feast of Christmas, and thou hast found the door in thy wall.”