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THE BELL AND THE HAMMER:
THERE was no doubt about the Magic this time. Down and down they rushed,
first through darkness and then through a mass of vague and whirling shapes
which might have been almost anything. It grew lighter. Then suddenly they felt
that they were standing on something solid. A moment later everything came into
focus and they were able to look about them.
"What a queer place!" said Digory.
"I don't like it," said Polly with something like a shudder.
What they noticed first was the light. It wasn't like sunlight, and it wasn't
like electric light, or lamps, or candles, or any other light they had ever
seen. It was a dull, rather red light, not at all cheerful. It was steady and
did not flicker. They were standing on a flat paved surface and buildings rose
all around them. There was no roof overhead; they were in a sort of courtyard.
The sky was extraordinarily dark - a blue that was almost black. When you had
seen that sky you wondered that there should be any light at all.
"It's very funny weather here," said Digory. "I wonder if we've arrived just in
time for a thunderstorm; or an eclipse."
"I don't like it," said Polly.
Both of them, without quite knowing why, were talking in whispers. And though
there was no reason why they should still go on holding hands after their jump,
they didn't let go.
The walls rose very high all round that courtyard. They had many great windows
in them, windows without glass, through which you saw nothing but black
darkness. Lower down there were great pillared arches, yawning blackly like the
mouths of railway tunnels. It was rather cold.
The stone of which everything was built seemed to be red, but that might only be
because of the curious light. It was obviously very old. Many of the flat stones
that paved the courtyard had cracks across them. None of them fitted closely
together and the sharp corners were all worn off. One of the arched doorways was
half filled up with rubble. The two children kept on turning round and round to
look at the different sides of the courtyard. One reason was that they were
afraid of somebody - or something - looking out of those windows at them when
their backs were turned.
"Do you think anyone lives here?" said Digory at last, still in a whisper.
"No," said Polly. "It's all in ruins. We haven't heard a sound since we came."
"Let's stand still and listen for a bit," suggested Digory.
They stood still and listened, but all they could hear was the thump-thump of
their own hearts. This place was at least as quiet as the Wood between the
Worlds. But it was a different kind of quietness. The silence of the Wood had
been rich and warm (you could almost hear the trees growing) and full of life:
this was a dead, cold, empty silence. You couldn't imagine anything growing in
it.
"Let's go home," said Polly.
"But we haven't seen anything yet," said Digory. "Now we're here, we simply must
have a look round."
"I'm sure there's nothing at all interesting here."
"There's not much point in finding a magic ring that lets you into other worlds
if you're afraid to look at them when you've got there."
"Who's talking about being afraid?" said Polly, letting go of Digory's hand.
"I only thought you didn't seem very keen on exploring this place."
"I'll go anywhere you go."
"We can get away the moment we want to," said Digory. "Let's take off our green
rings and put them in our right-hand pockets. All we've got to do is to remember
that our yellow are in our left-hand pockets. You can keep your hand as near
your pocket as you like, but don't put it in or you'll touch your yellow and
vanish."
They did this and went quietly up to one of the big arched doorways which led
into the inside of the building. And when they stood on the threshold and could
look in, they saw it was not so dark inside as they had thought at first. It led
into a vast, shadowy hall which appeared to be empty; but on the far side there
was a row of pillars with arches between them and through those arches there
streamed in some more of the same tired-looking light. They crossed the hall,
walking very carefully for fear of holes in the floor or of anything lying about
that they might trip over. It seemed a long walk. When they had reached the
other side they came out through the arches and found themselves in another and
larger courtyard.
"That doesn't look very safe," said Polly, pointing at a place where the wall
bulged outward and looked as if it were ready to fall over into the courtyard.
In one place a pillar was missing between two arches and the bit that came down
to where the top of the pillar ought to have been hung there with nothing to
support it. Clearly, the place had been deserted for hundreds, perhaps
thousands, of years.
"If it's lasted till now, I suppose it'll last a bit longer," said Digory. "But
we must be very quiet. You know a noise sometimes brings things down - like an
avalanche in the Alps."
They went on out of that courtyard into another doorway, and up a great flight
of steps and through vast rooms that opened out of one another till you were
dizzy with the mere size of the place. Every now and then they thought they were
going to get out into the open and see what sort of country lay around the
enormous palace. But each time they only got into another courtyard. They must
have been magnificent places when people were still living there. In one there
had once been a fountain. A great stone monster with wide-spread wings stood
with its mouth open and you could still see a bit of piping at the back of its
mouth, out of which the water used to pour. Under it was a wide stone basin to
hold the water; but it was as dry as a bone. In other places there were the dry
sticks of some sort of climbing plant which had wound itself round the pillars
and helped to pull some of them down. But it had died long ago. And there were
no ants or spiders or any of the other living things you expect to see in a
ruin; and where the dry earth showed between the broken flagstones there was no
grass or moss.
It was all so dreary and all so much the same that even Digory was thinking they
had better put on their yellow rings and get back to the warm, green, living
forest of the In-between place, when they came to two huge doors of some metal
that might possibly be gold. One stood a little ajar. So of course they went to
look in. Both started back and drew a long breath: for here at last was
something worth seeing.
For a second they thought the room was full of people - hundreds of people, all
seated, and all perfectly still. Polly and Digory, as you may guess, stood
perfectly still themselves for a good long time, looking in. But presently they
decided that what they were looking at could not be real people. There was not a
movement nor the sound of a breath among them all. They were like the most
wonderful waxworks you ever saw.
This time Polly took the lead. There was something in this room which interested
her more than it interested Digory: all the figures were wearing magnificent
clothes. If you were interested in clothes at all, you could hardly help going
in to see them closer. And the blaze of their colours made this room look, not
exactly cheerful, but at any rate rich and majestic after all the dust and
emptiness of the others. It had more windows, too, and was a good deal lighter.
I can hardly describe the clothes. The figures were all robed and had crowns on
their heads. Their robes were of crimson and silvery grey and deep purple and
vivid green: and there were patterns, and pictures of flowers and strange
beasts, in needlework all over them. Precious stones of astonishing size and
brightness stared from their crowns and hung in chains round their necks and
peeped out from all the places where anything was fastened.
"Why haven't these clothes all rotted away long ago?" asked Polly.
"Magic," whispered Digory. "Can't you feel it? I bet this whole room is just
stiff with enchantments. I could feel it the moment we came in."
"Any one of these dresses would cost hundreds of pounds," said Polly.
But Digory was more interested in the faces, and indeed these were well worth
looking at. The people sat in their stone chairs on each side of the room and
the floor was left free down the middle. You could walk down and look at the
faces in turn.
"They were nice people, I think," said Digory.
Polly nodded. All the faces they could see were certainly nice. Both the men and
women looked kind and wise, and they seemed to come of a handsome race. But
after the children had gone a few steps down the room they came to faces that
looked a little different. These were very solemn faces. You felt you would have
to mind your P's and Q's, if you ever met living people who looked like that.
When they had gone a little further, they found themselves among faces they
didn't like: this was about the middle of the room. The faces here looked very
strong and proud and happy, but they looked cruel. A little further on they
looked crueller. Further on again, they were still cruel but they no longer
looked happy. They were even despairing faces: as if the people they belonged to
had done dreadful things and also suffered dreadful things. The last figure of
all was the most interesting - a woman even more richly dressed than the others,
very tall (but every figure in that room was taller than the people of our
world), with a look of such fierceness and pride that it took your breath away.
Yet she was beautiful too. Years afterwards when he was an old man, Digory said
he had never in all his life known a woman so beautiful. It is only fair to add
that Polly always said she couldn't see anything specially beautiful about her.
This woman, as I said, was the last: but there were plenty of empty chairs
beyond her, as if the room had been intended for a much larger collection of
images.
"I do wish we knew the story that's behind all this," said Digory. "Let's go
back and look at that table sort of thing in the middle of the room."
The thing in the middle of the room was not exactly a table. It was a square
pillar about four feet high and on it there rose a little golden arch from which
there hung a little golden bell; and beside this there lay a little golden
hammer to hit the bell with.
"I wonder... I wonder... I wonder..." said Digory.
"There seems to be something written here," said Polly, stooping down and
looking at the side of the pillar.
"By gum, so there is," said Digory. "But of course we shan't be able to read
it."
"Shan't we? I'm not so sure," said Polly.
They both looked at it hard and, as you might have expected, the letters cut in
the stone were strange. But now a great wonder happened: for, as they looked,
though the shape of the strange letters never altered, they found that they
could understand them. If only Digory had remembered what he himself had said a
few minutes ago, that this was an enchanted room, he might have guessed that the
enchantment was beginning to work. But he was too wild with curiosity to think
about that. He was longing more and more to know what was written on the pillar.
And very soon they both knew. What it said was something like this - at least
this is the sense of it though the poetry, when you read it there, was better:
Make your choice, adventurous Stranger; Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or
wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.
"No fear!" said Polly. "We don't want any danger."
"Oh but don't you see it's no good!" said Digory. "We can't get out of it now.
We shall always be wondering what else would have happened if we had struck the
bell. I'm not going home to be driven mad by always thinking of that. No fear!"
"Don't be so silly," said Polly. "As if anyone would! What does it matter what
would have happened?"
"I expect anyone who's come as far as this is bound to go on wondering till it
sends him dotty. That's the Magic of it, you see. I can feel it beginning to
work on me already."
"Well I don't," said Polly crossly. "And I don't believe you do either. You're
just putting it on."
"That's all you know," said Digory. "It's because you're a girl. Girls never
want to know anything but gossip and rot about people getting engaged."
"You looked exactly like your Uncle when you said that," said Polly.
"Why can't you keep to the point?" said Digory. "What we're talking about is -"
"How exactly like a man!" said Polly in a very grownup voice; but she added
hastily, in her real voice, "And don't say I'm just like a woman, or you'll be a
beastly copy-cat."
"I should never dream of calling a kid like you a woman," said Digory loftily.
"Oh, I'm a kid, am I?" said Polly who was now in a real rage. "Well you needn't
be bothered by having a kid with you any longer then. I'm off. I've had enough
of this place. And I've had enough of you too - you beastly, stuck-up, obstinate
pig!"
"None of that!" said Digory in a voice even nastier than he meant it to be; for
he saw Polly's hand moving to her pocket to get hold of her yellow ring. I can't
excuse what he did next except by saying that he was very sorry for it
afterwards (and so were a good many other people). Before Polly's hand reached
her pocket, he grabbed her wrist, leaning across with his back against her
chest. Then, keeping her other arm out of the way with his other elbow, he
leaned forward, picked up the hammer, and struck the golden bell a light, smart
tap. Then he let her go and they fell apart staring at each other and breathing
hard. Polly was just beginning to cry, not with fear, and not even because he
had hurt her wrist quite badly, but with furious anger. Within two seconds,
however, they had something to think about that drove their own quarrels quite
out of their minds.
As soon as the bell was struck it gave out a note, a sweet note such as you
might have expected, and not very loud. But instead of dying away again, it went
on; and as it went on it grew louder. Before a minute had passed it was twice as
loud as it had been to begin with. It was soon so loud that if the children had
tried to speak (but they weren't thinking of speaking now - they were just
standing with their mouths open) they would not have heard one another. Very
soon it was so loud that they could not have heard one another even by shouting.
And still it grew: all on one note, a continuous sweet sound, though the
sweetness had something horrible about it, till all the air in that great room
was throbbing with it and they could feel the stone floor trembling under their
feet. Then at last it began to be mixed with another sound, a vague, disastrous
noise which sounded first like the roar of a distant train, and then like the
crash of a falling tree. They heard something like great weights falling.
Finally, with a sudden, rush and thunder, and a shake that nearly flung them off
their feet, about a quarter of the roof at one end of the room fell in, great
blocks of masonry fell all round them, and the walls rocked. The noise of the
bell stopped. The clouds of dust cleared away. Everything became quiet again.
It was never found out whether the fall of the roof was due to Magic or whether
that unbearably loud sound from the bell just happened to strike the note which
was more than those crumbling walls could stand.
"There! I hope you're satisfied now," panted Polly.
"Well, it's all over, anyway," said Digory.
And both thought it was; but they had never been more mistaken in their lives.
