Read Online At the Crossing Places by Kevin Crossley-Holland - Free Book Online

picked his chinbeard, and although he didn’t say a word, I could tell he was becoming more and more resentful.
    â€œNow then!” Turold said to me. “What about your helmet?” His face is quite wizened, and when he concentrates, all the lines and cracks in it gather and deepen. “The same as Sir John’s?”
    â€œYou mean with vents?”
    Turold smiled. “Without vents, you wouldn’t be able to breathe. Would he, Alan? No! I mean flat-topped or round-topped?”
    â€œFlat-topped!” exclaimed Alan. “What kind of a helmet is that?”
    â€œThe most recent. The armorers in London are making them.”
    â€œI see,” Alan said bitterly. “London! Ludlow! What’s wrong with round-topped?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œAnd sword strokes glance off flat-topped, do they?”
    Turold pursed up his whole face.
    â€œSo what stops a man’s skull from cracking open each time he’s hit?” Alan demanded.
    â€œYou’re an awkward customer, aren’t you?” Turold said calmly.
    â€œAnd you,” said Alan, “are an interference. What does it all cost, all this newfangled nonsense?”
    â€œAre you paying, then?” Turold asked.
    â€œI knew it!” shouted Alan. “Double the price! Half the protection at double the price!”
    â€œAlan!” I said. “Please!”
    â€œAre you mad?” said Turold. “If I overcharged, I’d get no work.”
    â€œI’ve heard about you,” said Alan, his voice bitter as a sloe. “You and your armor.”
    â€œAlan! Stop it!”
    â€œIt’s junk.”
    â€œThat’s enough!” I said, firmly and quite loudly, and I felt as if I were listening to someone else speaking.
    Alan narrowed his eyes at me. Narrow as the dark sight of a helmet.
    â€œLeave us alone,” I said hoarsely.
    First Alan spat on the floor at our feet. Then he turned on his heel and slammed the armory door behind him.
    Turold raised his eyebrows, and his forehead was a mass of wrinkles. “Very good, Arthur! Very good.”
    I swallowed. “I was afraid to begin with,” I said. “I still am.”
    â€œKeep well away from him,” Turold said. “That’s my advice.Now then, if you do choose the flat-topped, you’ll need a leather cap, of course…”
    After Turold had completed all his measurements, I took him up to the hall to meet Lord Stephen.
    â€œMy armorer made you welcome, I hope,” Lord Stephen said.
    â€œIn his own way,” replied Turold in a dry voice.
    â€œHe did not!” I exclaimed.
    Lord Stephen listened and kept blinking. “Jealousy is a deadly sin,” he remarked. “Worse than pride or gluttony. Worse than avarice or sloth. It eats the guts of whoever suffers from it.” Lord Stephen gave Turold a little one-sided smile. “Well! I did rather expect Alan would be upset, but that doesn’t excuse his discourtesy. You’re our guest…”
    â€œI’ve heard worse,” Turold said.
    â€œYou were brave,” Lord Stephen told me later. “It wasn’t easy to speak to Alan like that.”
    â€œHe’s always so angry, sir.”
    â€œBut by asking him to leave his own armory, you were adding insult to injury.”
    â€œI just said it. Without thinking.”
    â€œPerhaps you and Turold would have done better to walk away,” Lord Stephen said. “It’s wise to avoid making enemies. Alan was rude to Turold, but the person he’s really damaging is himself. Not for the first time either. He attacked Rhys once for very little reason, and broke his right arm. One more thing, and he’ll leave my service.”
    For a while Lord Stephen stared into the spitting fire. “Now the fire’s angry,” he said, and he sighed.
    â€œWe had a cat called Spitfire,” I said, “but a peddler stole him. To make a pair of white mittens,