Bennett and the Tapping Wall

Tap-tap-tap! Bennett froze with the warm roll in his hands. The sound had come from inside the castle wall.

He stood in the busy kitchen, where pots clinked and cooks hurried between the oven and the long wooden table. The roll was wrapped in a clean napkin. It was for the night watch, who waited in the courtyard beside the gate.

“Did you hear that?” Bennett asked.

Cook Lottie glanced up from her soup pot. “The castle makes all sorts of sounds, young sir. Stone carries them a long way.”

Tap-tap-tap!

This time Bennett heard it again. He held still. The tapping seemed to come from behind the shelves. Or perhaps from the other side of the kitchen door.

Bennett was a young knight, but he didn’t wear his helmet indoors. He set the roll on the table and leaned close to the wall.

“Hello?” he whispered.

A small voice answered, “Hello! I’m Pipkin. I’m stuck away from my room.”

Bennett looked along the stonework. “Where are you?”

“I can’t tell,” Pipkin called. “The tapping keeps bouncing around. I think my little passage is near the kitchen, but the panel has moved.”

Bennett knew that Pipkin was a tiny mouse who lived in the castle walls. Sometimes he popped out near the pantry to nibble a crumb. He was polite enough to say thank you for every crumb, even when no one had offered it.

“I’ll help you get home,” Bennett promised. “Then I’ll take this roll to the night watch.”

He picked up the napkin and walked slowly along the wall. Tap-tap-tap! The sound skipped from the shelves to the doorway, then seemed to come from somewhere behind him.

Pipkin called again. “I’m here! I think!”

Bennett stopped by a tall cupboard. He peered at the stones, but they all looked much the same. A narrow wooden panel sat near the floor, almost hidden behind a flour bin. It looked too small for anyone to notice—and it did not seem to move.

“Wait there,” Bennett said. “I’ll find you.”

The kitchen grew quieter as the cooks finished their work. Bennett carried the roll into the passage, where the castle’s thick walls held the last little echoes. He was in no hurry now, but Pipkin’s voice was difficult to follow.

“Tap-tap?” Bennett called softly.

Somewhere in the stone, a tiny answer tapped back.

Bennett stood in the passage and listened. The tapping seemed to come from the left. Then it bounced behind him. Then it sounded as if Pipkin were right beneath his boots.

“I’m sorry,” Pipkin called. “I can hear you, but I can’t tell where you are, either!”

Bennett glanced at the roll. The night watch was waiting, and the kitchen was nearly empty. He wanted to hurry—but hurrying had not helped. He set the roll on a broad stone ledge and knelt beside the wall.

“I have an idea,” he said. “I’ll tap gently in different places. You answer from your side.”

Bennett tapped a stone near the cupboard. Tap-tap.

Pipkin answered from somewhere far off. “Tap-tap!”

Bennett moved a little way down the wall and tapped again. This time Pipkin’s reply sounded closer.

He tried a third spot, beside the flour bin. Tap-tap.

“Here!” Pipkin answered. The sound came from just behind the little wooden panel.

Bennett smiled. “I found you.”

He lifted the flour bin aside. The panel looked thin and light, but Bennett did not yank at it. He slid his fingers along the edge and eased it carefully. It shifted with a small scrape, opening a mouse-sized passage behind it.

Pipkin poked out his whiskers. “That’s my way home! The panel must have slipped when someone moved the bin.”

The opening had a high stone lip. Pipkin tried to climb it, but his paws slid back. Bennett found a clean cloth in his pocket, folded it twice, and tucked one end against the passage. The cloth made a little ramp.

“Ready?” Bennett asked.

Pipkin scampered up the cloth and through the opening. He turned around, his nose and bright eyes showing in the gap.

“Home at last!” he said. “Thank you, Bennett.”

Bennett slid the panel back just enough to leave Pipkin’s passage clear, then picked up the roll. Together they made their way toward the courtyard: Bennett walking through the castle, Pipkin scurrying inside the walls beside him.

At the gate, the night watchman, Sergeant Hal, took the roll with a grateful grin. “Just in time for my supper.”

Bennett told him about Pipkin, and a tiny tap answered from the stones nearby.

Sergeant Hal chuckled. “Then we’ll save a crumb for our smallest helper.”

The courtyard was quiet now. Moonlight lay across the stones, and the castle’s high windows held little squares of darkness. Sergeant Hal broke off a small piece of the roll and set it on a ledge near the wall.

“For Pipkin,” he said.

A whiskered nose appeared between two stones. Pipkin sniffed the crumb, then gave a pleased little nod.

“Good night, Sergeant,” Bennett said.

“Good night, young knight. You listened well tonight.”

Bennett headed back through the castle, letting his boots fall softly on the stones. In the kitchen, the pots were put away, and the flour bin stood beside the wall in the hush. He checked that the wooden panel was settled neatly, leaving Pipkin’s passage open behind it.

From within the wall came a faint scurry, then a pause.

“Are you home?” Bennett whispered.

“I’m home,” Pipkin replied. “My bed is tucked behind the warm chimney stones.”

Bennett imagined Pipkin curled in a little nest of soft straw, with a crumb saved for morning. The thought made him smile.

He continued along the corridor. His boots made quiet thuds on the flagstones. Inside the walls, Pipkin kept pace, scampering along the hidden passage. Now the taps did not confuse Bennett. He knew which small footsteps belonged to his friend.

At the foot of the stairs, Bennett looked back toward the courtyard. Sergeant Hal was settling into his watch, the roll beside him. Nothing needed mending or searching for now. The castle had grown still, and every familiar sound seemed to have found its proper place: a distant clock, a settling board, the soft hush of air moving through the old stone halls.

Bennett climbed to his room and hung his small shield on its peg. He folded his cloak across the chair and sat on the edge of his bed, thinking of a tiny mouse finding the right way home.

From somewhere behind the stones came one last friendly tap.

Bennett smiled on his way to bed, and the castle kept its quiet watch around him.