Shadow in the Dark

by Antony Barone Kolenc

  Too late. The bandits had seen them.

  “Hey, you!” The men charged toward them.

  Brother Andrew stepped into the path, blocking Lucy and Xan from the bandits.

  Xan dropped to the dirt, reaching all around. If he could just find a rock to throw.

  “Get out of our way, ya dumb monk!” The lead bandit pushed Brother Andrew hard. The monk fell backward into Lucy, and both of them tumbled to the grass.

  In the dimness, the lead bandit must not have seen Xan, still crouching on the path looking for a stone. He tripped over Xan’s body and fell to the trail on his face, crying out in pain.

  Xan dove for the grass before the second bandit’s foot could kick him in the head.

  “Get up, Rolf, you simpkin,” the second bandit said.

  Another whistle sounded—this one in three short bursts.

  “Like I told you,” he said. “The signal. Now c’mon, ere they leave without us.”

  The two bandits doubled their pace up the hill as Xan jumped to his feet.

  Brother Andrew helped Lucy rise. “Xan, take this girl back to the convent. Then round up all the boys and meet me at the abbey church. We will need every spare hand tonight.”

  The monk took to the path in the direction the bandits had gone.

  “Are you all right?” Xan asked her.

  Lucy nodded. “You really got that bandit bad. He probably scraped his whole face.”

  “Good. Come on, let’s get you back to the convent.”

  They hurried down the convent path. Now that the hedge fire had burned itself out, darkness covered them completely.

  “Are we still on the path?” she said. “I can’t even see my feet.”

  A warm, soft hand pressed on his forearm, working its way down to his callused fingers. She’d taken his hand in the dark for support as they walked the final stretch.

  His memory reached back only about a week, but holding Lucy’s hand at that moment surely must have been the finest, most exhilarating feeling ever. The pains and bruises on his body were instantly gone. Boundless energy flowed through his tired legs.

  The convent door opened. Sister Regina appeared in the crack with a candle.

  Lucy released his hand with a gentle squeeze and hurried to the nun.

  “Where have you been?” Sister Regina said. “I have been worried sick.”

  Lucy gave Xan a wave and a splendid smile. Then she disappeared inside with the nun.

  He stood alone on the path, quite warm despite the chill breeze in his face.

  “Enough, Xan; move it,” he whispered to himself. Brother Andrew still needed help.

  He raced back to the boys’ dormitory, but it was empty. Perhaps Brother Oscar or Brother Leo had arrived and already led the boys to the abbey.

  Back he ran, over the granges and onto the cobblestone path. He coughed from the smoke. All around, small fires—more dangerous than any bandit—threatened the abbey’s structures.

  Memory or not, he knew someone needed to get water on those fires, or the abbey would be destroyed. The wood cottages of Hardonbury must have caught fire much worse than these stone abbey buildings. Maybe Rummy hadn’t killed his parents after all—perhaps the fire did it.

  He passed the main church and peeked inside. Someone in there might help. The prior stood within, gently holding a wooden box and commanding several monks cleaning up the debris.

  The prior’s belly shook under his robe as he shouted. “They looted the sacristy and stole the chalices.” He held the box high. “And look, the fiends even desecrated the Blessed Sacrament!”

  Brother Andrew had said the holy bread of the Blessed Sacrament was the very presence of Christ to them. No wonder the prior was so upset—definitely in no condition to put out fires.

  Xan stepped outside. Voices were yelling around the corner. He followed the sounds.

  Near the refectory, servants had piped in water from the fishpond. Brother Andrew was lining up the novices and younger boys to pass buckets of water to douse the fires.

  “There you are, Xan!” the monk said. “Hurry. We need your hands.”

  Just then, the abbot turned the corner.

  Xan had never actually met the abbot, but he’d seen him in the distance, and this was definitely him. He was shorter and frailer than his reputation. His bald head had mostly lost its hair, except for a faint ring of gray that must have been a tonsure at one time. Yet his hands were large and beefy, as though he’d worked his life threshing wheat.

  The abbot yawned and rubbed his eyes. Perhaps he’d been sleeping and was still stuck in a dream. He gazed about before he finally spoke. “What has happened? Where is the prior?”

  Brother Andrew rushed over and embraced the old abbot. “Praise God, you are alive! We thought the bandits might have taken you. Where have you been?”

  “Praying in our dormitory chapel, as I always do after compline.” He turned in a circle, fires all about him. “Why are you all just standing there? Get water on these fires.”

  Joshua hurried over to Xan and pulled at his tunic. “You can work with me,” the boy said, the fire lighting up his freckles like glowing embers on his cheeks.

  Xan grabbed a bucket of water. “Thanks, Joshua. Follow me.”

  13

  Purpose

  The next morning, the boys slept late. They’d stayed up most of the night to help fight the fires, until each threat had been fully doused. Half the fishpond had been emptied in the process.

  Then Brother Oscar had escorted them back to the dorm—the first day of his turn watching the boys.

  In those final hours, Xan had learned that Father Paul had survived his fight with Rummy, though he was in the infirmary recovering from his wounds. As for the abbot, when he’d returned from compline—the monks’ evening prayers—the elderly man had fallen asleep in the tiny chapel tucked away in the monks’ dorm. Had he come out during the attack, Carlo would have hurt him.

  Xan awoke before the other boys and found Brother Andrew exiting the main abbey church, where the monks had just finished terce, their mid-morning prayers.

  “I am glad to see you,” the monk said, his brown and blue eyes now set within dark rings of sleeplessness. “I want to tell you how brave and hard-working you were last night.”

  “Thank you, Brother.” Except this wasn’t the time for rewards. Last night, he hadn’t the chance to do anything except put out fires. He still must tell the monk what he’d seen and heard.

  “May I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Of course.” He led them to a stone bench nearby, where Xan began his story.

  As soon as he mentioned Carlo’s purpose to harm the abbot, Brother Andrew interrupted. “No more, Xan. These are serious words you speak. You must tell them to the abbot.”

  The monk took him to the chapter house, with its sharply pointed roof. Voices spoke urgently within. Brother Andrew knocked on the door and then entered with Xan.

  Inside, the abbot was meeting with the prior and Brother Leo around a wide, wooden table surrounded by thick chairs. “We must ask Lord Godfrey for help,” Brother Leo was urging.

  As soon as the monks saw Xan, they stopped talking and gawked at him. Maybe they didn’t want to discuss abbey business in front of a peasant boy, but surely they’d make an exception for him this one time. He’d taken action last night; he’d seen and heard important things.

  “I am sorry to interrupt, Abbot,” Brother Andrew said, “but this boy has urgent news.”

  They sat Xan at the table and listened to his account of events and of his memories. Their eyes widened as he spoke. By the time he’d finished, their demeanor had changed toward him.

  “What a remarkable boy,” the abbot said. “Surely our Lord has a mighty purpose for you.”

  But Brother Leo poked a purply finger in the air. “What this boy says only makes my argument stronger. Last night, those bandits burned our manor house at Penwood, then rode here to harm our abbot. Our nuns and children a
re at the mercy of these men without Godfrey’s help.”

  What terrible news! Had Brother Leo been at Penwood when the bandits had attacked there? He hadn’t been around for the fires at the abbey. Perhaps he’d arrived late from his journey.

  “But Leo,” the prior said. “Godfrey will not defend us ’til the abbot admits Godfrey’s claim over Penwood. Have you forgotten how, just last year, Godfrey threatened us with suit in the courts?”

  Brother Leo snorted. “I manage Penwood now, and I can tell you the people there are terrified. Father Paul is wounded; our abbot is threatened. Cursed times call for new decisions.”

  Had Xan’s news added to all this trouble? Maybe he should have kept it to himself.

  The prior pulled at the graying beard on his chin. “Nay, Leo. If we give Penwood Manor to Godfrey, as you suggest, what will he want from us next—Oakwood Manor? The abbey itself?”

  “Enough!” The abbot raised a hefty hand. “King Henry has fought against our Church for far too long. He wants power to control our bishops, priests, and everyone else. I will not turn over our dear Penwood Manor to one of the King’s men, no matter how noble Lord Godfrey might be.”

  The abbot glanced in Xan’s direction. The monk must hate that this kind of disagreement would be aired in front of a peasant boy. Yet Brother Leo hadn’t finished being grumpy.

  “Not everyone agrees with you, Abbot,” he said, raising his voice. “Last night—”

  The abbot slammed his hand to the table. “Not another word, Brother Leo, or your discipline shall be severe! If you are concerned for this abbey’s safety, I suggest you meditate on the Psalms: ’tis the Lord who is our Shepherd and Protector, not Lord Godfrey.”

  The room grew awkwardly quiet. Brother Leo bowed his head, though his face was red and sweaty and his eyebrows stood on edge.

  Xan’s parents and so many others had been killed by the bandits. These men were so evil they had even desecrated the holy bread in the church. Brother Leo might be right about needing help from Lord Godfrey. Last night, most of the monks had hidden from the danger. If the bandits came again, who would protect the boys and the nuns, and Lucy?

  God might be able to do anything, but all the praying of the monks hadn’t stopped the bandits from coming. If Carlo wanted to kill the abbot, what would stop him from returning?

  “Are there other matters to discuss?” the abbot said.

  Silence.

  “Good,” he said. “There is much to clean after last night’s disaster. Let us get to it.”

  Xan reported back to the boys’ dormitory. As the abbot had said, the abbey was a complete shambles. That meant Brother Oscar would be assigning lots of extra work for the boys.

  Their new dorm-keeper shared many unfortunate traits with Brother Leo, including a love of yelling. Though not as old as Leo, Brother Oscar had graying hair that also refused to cooperate. A clumpy ball of hair stuck up on one side of his head, so that his ringed tonsure looked pregnant.

  The monk gathered the boys on the grass outside the dorm and assigned them chores. He told Xan to pick up every scrap of debris and ash that had floated over from the fires at the main abbey to anywhere in the meadow, from the fountain to the convent path.

  After the monk withdrew inside, Joshua meandered over with a frown. “Why do I always have to sweep the floors?” he whined, scratching at his red hair, still black with ash.

  Before Xan could answer, John approached in a huff, his fingernails caked with grime. “Well, I bet you think you’re someone important now, don’t you, Sire Clumsy?”

  Of all days, why would that bully start trouble today? John must realize the miserable week he’d had: learning about his family, being trapped at this abbey, surviving the bandits’ attack.

  “What are you talking about?” Xan said, as the other boys gathered around.

  “I saw you last night and this morning, all friendly with the monks.” John rolled his eyes. “Now that you’re stuck here, you want to be the monks’ little pet, eh? Hoping for better chores and bigger helpings at breakfast, probably.”

  Could it be possible that John was jealous of him, even after all his troubles? John’s family had probably died in that plague last year. Perhaps he was as miserable as Xan. Or worse.

  “John, just leave me alone and do your work. I’m in no mood for this.” He turned to leave.

  John grabbed Xan’s shoulders from behind and threw him to the ground.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, clumsy,” John said, towering over him.

  Xan stumbled to his feet as the boys circled round: “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  Joshua—eyes filled with alarm—ran into the dormitory.

  Xan stood his ground. Rummy’s evil face filled his mind—sneering down at Father, staring at Father Paul with hateful red eyes. That feeling of rage returned. He lifted his fists.

  John pounced, knocking him to the ground, punching at his side. All he could do was protect his face from the blows. Finally he rolled out and sprang up—lip bleeding, side aching.

  John would attack again; it was as certain as wheat growing in the granges each season.

  Sure enough, the bully threw another wild fist in the air. This time Xan was ready.

  As John swung, Xan tripped up the bully’s legs. John’s fist flailed through the air; his legs collapsed under him; his backside crashed to the ground, followed by his shoulders and head. He looked so awkward falling to the grass that a few of the boys even laughed aloud.

  A deep voice suddenly boomed from the window above: “Stop, or I will put the paddle to you both!”—Brother Oscar. Joshua must have told him about the fight.

  John stared up and then put his fists down. Maybe he was remembering that paddling from Brother Leo the other day. One public paddling might have been enough for him.

  “We’ll finish this later,” he promised as he stomped off, followed by a couple of the boys.

  Xan licked the bitter blood from his lips.

  The others had scattered in fear to do their chores. He might as well get to work too.

  He started at the fountain and picked his way across the meadow, putting all the debris in a large wooden crate. At least he’d have time to think without bullies or angry monks around.

  Lucy had told him to find a purpose, and Brother Andrew had offered to teach him his letters, just like the novice boys. That’s what the monk wanted, no doubt—for Xan to become a novice one day. Then he’d take the vow of stability and be at the abbey forever.

  Learning to read and write would be interesting, but would it be a purpose? The faces of Mother and Father were growing clearer each day. Mother’s eyes were as gentle as Lucy’s, but she never did much of anything in his visions except look at him. Yet even her gaze made him want to cry for some reason. Other memories might come soon, even harder to deal with.

  Nay, being lettered might be a good goal, but it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t explain why he’d lost his family or why the monks were being threatened. It wouldn’t even discredit those frightening stories of the Shadow that John liked to tell.

  By the time Xan had worked his way to the convent path, the midday sun sparkled overhead. Maybe the girls were down there cleaning the convent yard from the bandits’ attack.

  He looked at the hand Lucy had held last night. It still felt warm. Why not go see her?

  He wandered along the trail, checking behind him for Brother Oscar. Several of the younger girls were outside playing with dolls made from old rags. They watched him go by.

  He arrived at the convent door. He knocked. What would he say? The nuns might get mad at him for trying to meet with Lucy. Maybe he could pretend to be lost—nay, that would be dotie.

  The door opened. Sister Regina stood there, surprised. “Xan, what are you doing here?”

  “Good day, Sister.”

  She noticed his fresh scrapes and bruises. “Oh, my. Have you been fighting?”

  “I’m fine. I was just checking to see if every
thing was all right here after last night.”

  “The Lord protected us,” the nun said, smiling as if she knew Xan’s real reason for coming.

  She glanced over her shoulder as another nun passed by. “Lucy told me about you tripping that bandit. I wish I could invite you in to check on her, but the rules do not allow it.” Then she lowered her voice. “Take the cobbled path and go around back. We will meet you there.”

  He followed her direction and took the path to an empty, tidy garden without flowers or people. It likely would bloom in a burst of colors in the springtime.

  He sat on a stone wall and waited.

  “Hello again,” Lucy said, stepping out the back door with Sister Regina. She was dressed as always in a flowing white tunic, cinched at her waist by a slim brown belt.

  “Sister says you’ve been fighting.” She came and sat next to him while the nun crossed to the far side of the garden and picked dead leaves from a tall plant.

  They spoke for a while about the situation with John. Then he told her about Brother Andrew’s offer to teach him to read and write.

  “That’s exactly what you need, Xan. You’ll start feeling better ere you know it.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Especially not after last night.” He told her about all he’d seen of Carlo and Rummy, and about the monks’ angry meeting this morning.

  “How dreadful,” she said. “Why would anyone want to hurt the abbot?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was a mystery. The same bandits who had killed his family and destroyed his home were now terrorizing the good monks at this abbey. None of it made sense.

  That’s it!

  The idea came in a flash. How could he not have thought of it before?

  “Lucy, I think I might know why God sent me to this abbey, and what I need to do now.”

  Her eyes grew wide with anticipation. “You do?”

  He stood. “I think I’m the one who’s supposed to solve the mystery of these bandits. And when I do, I’ll finally understand why all this has happened to me and my family.”

  14

  Discovery