Kris Kringle
Chapter Eleven: Bell Ringer

Kris stood there, his eyes wide with horror. A fear he had never experienced before overcame his entire being. He could not fight. He could not flee. He was trapped, and he was certain this was the beginning of the end for him.

Prince Renier had walked through the kitchen door with his main adviser at his side. The two had been discussing something but paused when they saw Kris standing there in the kitchen.

Renier looked at Kris, and as their eyes met, Kris held his breath. This was it. He had been discovered.

The prince gave him a little nod. “As you were, servant,” he said casually to Kris, “We are just passing through to the courtyard.”

The prince and his adviser then walked out the door leading to the exterior courtyard. Kris continued to stand still in the kitchen. He was in complete shock at what had just transpired, and he did not know how to react. After a minute of processing his brief interaction with the man who could have ordered his execution, Kris started to laugh. His run-in with the very man he was trying to prevent from taking power had been incredibly frightening, but now that it was over, he also found it emboldening. After all, Renier had just looked Kris in the eye and suspected nothing. Perhaps Kris’ plan to find and speak with the princess would not be as impossible as he had feared just moments earlier. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Kris opened the kitchen door that led into the main hall of the castle and poked his head inside. There were at least a dozen servants walking around, attending to a variety of tasks—cleaning the floor, carrying folded linens, replacing window panes, and so forth. Kris noticed that all the servants were wearing simple clothing—not unlike the kind he was wearing. His being mistaken for a servant by Renier no longer seemed peculiar. Kris opened the door wider and stepped out into the hall with some confidence. So long as he did not act lost or out of place, Kris felt he could blend in with the crowd. He walked out into the main hall looking for something that might indicate where the royal chambers were. He looked up and saw several rooms on the top story that looked down on the main hall. Though the walls of the top story were high, he could see the tips of several silver helmets moving around on the floor above him. “Those would be the guards,” Kris thought to himself, “That must be where the princess’ room is.”

Kris knew he could not simply walk up the staircase leading to that area and expect to get far. He had to find a way in.

“Give me a hand, will ya?” a voice cried out.

Kris turned around and saw a man carrying a heavy load of firewood. Many of the pieces were falling out of his arms as he made his way into the hall. Almost forgetting where he was and why he was there, Kris followed the natural instinct to help someone in need and immediately began picking up the fallen pieces of firewood.

“Thanks,” the man said with relief, “I try to make only one trip but I obviously grabbed more than I could handle. I’ll take what I have to the rooms upstairs. Would you mind taking the logs you grabbed and throwing them in the basement?”

Kris raised his eyebrows. “You know what, I was already going to go upstairs. Why don’t I just take my portion to those rooms?”

The man shook his head. “That’s alright,” he said, “Besides are you authorized to go up there? I don’t recall seeing you before.”

“I’m new,” Kris lied, “I forgot about the upstairs being off limits. I’ll throw these in the basement.”

The man nodded and made his way for the staircase while Kris looked desperately (though he tried not to appear so) for the entrance into the basement. The man with the firewood turned back again to check on Kris.

“It’s that door straight ahead,” the man guided him, gesturing with his head toward the door near the southwest corner of the hall, “Just take the stairs straight down.”

Kris nodded his appreciation and followed the directions he was given. Upon opening the door, he went down a narrow staircase with torches on the walls that lit the descent into the basement. When he got to the bottom, he saw a small pile of firewood neatly stacked against the wall. Kris threw the logs he had collected on top without bothering to make them look neat. He was mad at himself for nearly getting caught a second time. He had to find the princess and then get out of the castle as soon as possible. He had already pushed his luck too far for comfort. He sat down in the cold, dark basement, thinking about how to proceed. He could not get upstairs to the princess without authorization. He had no way to disguise himself and certainly no intention of taking on the guards by force. As his mind mulled over what he could do, his eyes fell upon the stack of firewood.

“If the princess needs firewood in her chamber,” Kris said quietly to himself, “That means she can light a fire in her chamber…which means—“

He stopped talking and smiled. He grabbed a torch off the staircase wall and used it to look around the basement. He could see plenty of rope and various metal objects strewn haphazardly across a table on the opposite wall of the firewood. He grabbed a long coil of rope, replaced the torch he had taken off the wall, and made his way back to the main hall. As he emerged from the basement, the man who he had helped was making his way back down the staircase after delivering the firewood to the rooms upstairs.

“Thanks again for your help, friend,” the man called out when he saw Kris, “Where you headed now?”

Kris held up the coil of rope he had taken from the basement. “I was just asked to help out with a repair in the bell tower.” Kris looked around with a sheepish look on his face. “But as you know,” he whispered to the man, “I’m still learning my way around here. Can you point me in the right direction again?”

The man chuckled. “Of course,” he replied, “Follow me.”

He led Kris out of the main hall and through the inner courtyard of the castle. Kris was amazed by the beauty of it. Several stone fountains spouted out clear water that several blue birds were happily bathing in. Large green bushes had been cut to resemble animals. As they made their way to the entrance of the bell tower, Kris noticed an unusual grouping of sculpted bushes that lined a path that led to a different part of the castle. They appeared to be animals with features that did not naturally belong to them, such as a bear with a crocodile’s head and a reindeer with the wings of an eagle.

“What are those supposed to be?” Kris asked, pointing to the unusual botanical artistry.

The man looked to see what Kris was referring to. “Oh, those are Lord Renier’s creation,” the man answered, “He is fascinated with the idea of combining the features and abilities of different animals into one. It’s an obsession of his. Those bushes lead the way into the his wing of the castle—which, by the way, if no one told you, is off-limits to servant-folk.”

Kris looked up at the bell tower. “Well, thanks for helping me out again,” he told the man pleasantly.

“Thank you for your help with the firewood,” the man replied with a smile, “And welcome to the castle. What’s your name?”

“Kris,” answered Kris out of mere habit. He had not caught himself in time to make up a name.

“Well, take care, Kris,” the man said, “Let me know if you need anything in the future.” He walked away back toward the main hall.

Kris let out a big breath of air as he looked up again at the bell tower. It rose up just barely above the rectangular rooves of the castle. Kris had heard the chiming of its bells once while in the marketplace (the castle lying just west of it), but the castle bell tower was rarely used, only for activities held within the castle itself. The church’s bells in the marketplace were the ones that rang to signify special occasions and sacred holidays for the general public.

Kris tightened his grip on the coil of rope and opened the door of the bell tower to find a very tall ladder that extended all the way to the bells on the top. Kris began his ascent up the ladder, and when he reached the bells on the top, he swung his legs up upon the wooden platform that was used by the bell ringer. His right leg suddenly slipped as he tried to pull himself onto the platform. He had forgotten how sore and weak his legs still were from his being cramped inside the bean barrel for so long. Kris suddenly found himself falling off the platform, which stood far enough above the hard ground to make such a fall lethal. His heart—which had already experienced enough angst and suspense that morning—skipped a beat as Kris reached out to barely grab hold of the end of the bell ringer’s rope. His grasp upon that rope was the only thing that kept him from falling to his death. His full body weight now pulled upon the rope as he hung precariously in the air. And as Kris continued to tug desperately on the rope to bring himself to the safety of the platform, the bells of the castle were put into motion. They rang out loud and clear so that everyone on or near the grounds could hear it.

Prince Renier, who was conversing pleasantly with his adviser in the outside courtyard, turned from where he was seated on a stone bench to get a better view of the bell tower. He then looked at his adviser, who, like Renier, had an expression of concern on his face. The castle bells were hardly rung, and certainly never without the king’s permission.

“Look into it,” Renier ordered in a serious tone, and his adviser quickly obeyed.

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