The Fire of Eden

by Antony Barone Kolenc

  Xan grasped a thin branch and peeked through the leaves to get a better view. Two of them, the cloaked figure and a tall man with a brimmed hat, sat near the fire. Three others slept sprawled out on the dirt nearby.

  “So what’d this Apollo give ya’?” Zeus asked.

  Hermes tossed Gilbert’s pouch into the air. Zeus caught it. “A few stolen trinkets,” Hermes said. “Take a look. Barely worth my trip out there.”

  Trinkets? No one could ever refer to Eden’s Fire as a trinket. That must mean Gilbert hadn’t given them the ruby—at least not yet.

  Zeus opened the pouch and rummaged through it. “Not too bad.”

  “Aye,” Hermes said. “But what’s even better, tomorrow this Apollo says that he—”

  Cra-ack! Xan’s grip on the tree had tightened too much. The little branch had cracked in his fist.

  “What was that?” Zeus barked. “You been followed?”

  “Impossible,” said Hermes.

  “You oafs wake up!” Zeus cried, grabbing a torch from the fire. “We got company!”

  The three sleeping men stirred.

  The word “tomorrow” had been Xan’s undoing. Had Gilbert told these thieves to expect something better tomorrow? Perhaps he’d hidden Eden’s Fire away and was going to get lots of gold by selling it to them. That thought had caused Xan to squeeze the branch too hard.

  Now, like a hunted animal, he fled back to the trail. Loud footsteps followed, fanning out in different directions.

  “You—go ’round to the east!” Zeus yelled. “Hermes, take the west end!”

  They were surrounding him. Soon he’d be captured, like one of those foxes trying to poach chickens in Aubrey’s tofts.

  And just like a fox, he’d surely be killed if these hunters caught him.

  17

  Apollo and Aphrodite

  The thieves drew near on both sides of Xan. They were penning him in—narrowing the gap as they got closer. Soon, they’d squeeze him into the corner of their trap and he’d be done for. He needed to get off this path, and quickly.

  He dove to the right and broke through a patch of thorns—straight into a cold, deep pool of mud. He sunk into the filthy-smelling muck and fell to his knees.

  Behind him, his hunters were close.

  The night suddenly flashed with distant lightning. Thick clouds doused all starlight, and wind rustled the leaves. Yet at least the overcast sky provided a cloak of darkness.

  He had no other choice, did he? He flopped into the mud and lay still on his belly, barely able to breathe through the choking stench of all that ickiness—was it mud or slime?

  “He went this way, I think,” Hermes shouted, passing Xan on the left.

  Still he dared not move—though some creature crawled over his neck and into his hair.

  The voices were growing distant. Another minute and then he could breathe again. Finally, the thieves’ voices headed in opposite ways. They’d probably reached the road and had begun a search in both directions. They’d comb that road all night for him if needed.

  But then a raindrop fell. Another. A clap of thunder rang out from on high and rumbled across the countryside. Soon pounding rain surrounded him, splashing mud in his eyes.

  Those thieves wouldn’t stay out long in this chill weather.

  Sure enough, within minutes their voices echoed on the trail again. They were heading back toward the thieves’ den. “He’s gone, whoever he was,” one said as he passed a couple of feet from Xan’s spot.

  “Let’s get under cover.” That was Hermes.

  After a while, all became silent except for the storm. Quivering and miserable, Xan pushed up from the muck and sloshed his way back to the road, the wet leaves disguising his steps.

  Under the shadow of the trees, he made a straight path to Grenton Priory. He arrived at the boys’ dormitory, where a great puddle had formed near the side of the building at the end of the grassy hill. He was so wet and cold now, what did it matter? He lay in the cool water and wiped as much of the slime from his body as he could.

  Shivering, he tiptoed up the steps of the dorm. Everyone was fast asleep. He removed his tunic, wiped more dirt from his legs, and crawled under the warm blanket. He closed his eyes and suddenly found himself outside again in a cold, rainy fog.

  The thieves were still chasing him along the road. He ran from them—over a green field to a familiar cottage. He ducked inside. It was his own home back in Hardonbury. Mother was cleaning plates from the table, while Father laughed and talked with another man. A small boy—wait, it was Xan himself, only a child—sat in the corner playing with sticks.

  After a while, the man stood; came to Xan; patted him on the head; smiled. “Farewell, Stephen. You be good for your parents.” The man looked so much like Father.

  Then the adults bade farewell. Laughter turned to sadness and Mother was crying. They embraced one another many times. “Shall we ever see you again, William?” Father said.

  “Soon,” answered Uncle William. “I promise.”

  Xan opened his eyes. Morning light shone upon his face.

  Uncle William had been wrong: he never did get to see Mother and Father again. He never made it back to Hardonbury in time, though he did get to see Xan in Lincoln and now wanted him to become a merchant. Then Xan could be like Lady Beaumont or Lord Godfrey, gaining a world full of wealth—only to have thieves try to steal it, just as Eden’s Fire had been stolen.

  Xan sat up in bed. He was alone. His muddy green tunic was gone from the floor next to his mattress. In its place lay a brown tunic, clean and dry. He pulled it over his head and headed to the bottom of the stairs.

  Where had everyone gone? Not the refectory: it was an Ember Friday, a day of fasting even at Grenton Priory. Not that he needed them to find new suspects; he already had two of those. But even if he found ten suspects, it wouldn’t matter if none of them had the ability to secretly get in and out of Brother Andrew’s room. What explanation could there be—besides magic, of course?

  His two suspects were not typical. One was a monk who apparently liked to steal items from the guests’ rooms. The other was part of a thieves’ guild based on Greek mythology: Gilbert, or perhaps they should call him Apollo.

  What else had Apollo stolen besides some trinkets? He hadn’t given Eden’s Fire to Hermes yet, though he’d told Hermes that tomorrow something was going to happen. If only Xan hadn’t broken that branch, he’d know exactly what Gilbert had planned for today.

  Just then Lucy and John came down the hill to the dorm. “There you are!” she said.

  “Where’re the others?” he asked.

  “Keeping an eye on Gilbert and Adela,” said John, holding tight to Lucy’s arm.

  “You had us worried ill last night,” Lucy said. “When did you get in?” Her eyes held genuine concern. A strand of smooth black hair drifted to the mole on her cheek.

  John started sniffing into the air and making a nasty expression. “Is that you, Xan?”

  Xan examined his soiled legs and smelled the breeze. “Ugh! You’re right, that is me.”

  “Aubrey told me what a mess you were,” Lucy said, “so I had Giles bring in a clean tunic I got for you while you slept. But a bath will do you even better.”

  “Aye,” he said. “There’s a fountain not far away. Let me find soap and wash off. Then we can meet back here, and I’ll tell all of you what happened last night.”

  They agreed and parted ways. Xan found soap upstairs and washed in the cold fountain water. When he returned, all were back except Giles, who’d been left to keep watch on Apollo.

  Xan told them about the thieves’ den from last night, and how he’d almost been captured.

  Aubrey folded his arms. “A band of thieves, just like I said. I bet Gilbert’s got that ruby in his room. They prob’ly agreed on a price last night, and now he’s waitin’ to get rid of it tonight.”

  “Maybe,” Xan said. “If Adela has a connection with one of the guards, that could explain
how they distracted him. I wish we could have been with Alford when he questioned them all.”

  “Do you hear that?” John said. “Giles is coming; he’s calling out.”

  Sure enough, soon Giles raced down the hill in a panic, panting like he’d run a mile.

  “What’s the matter?” Odo asked.

  Giles grabbed Aubrey’s wrist. “C’mon. Gilbert’s leaving! He’s at the stables.”

  “He may be taking Eden’s Fire away,” Aubrey said. “Let’s go, Giles.”

  They sprinted off, leaving Xan and Lucy with John and Odo.

  “Up you go,” Xan said, taking little Odo onto his shoulders.

  John took Lucy’s arm, and they followed in Aubrey’s path toward the stables. With all the limping, they couldn’t keep up pace. Soon they gave up trying. When they neared the end of the meadow, Lucy pointed toward the road. “How odd.”

  “What?” Xan shielded his eyes from the bright sun. “Well, that’s interesting.”

  Out on the road, Adela was walking alongside the old beggar.

  “She’s talking to that beggar, but she doesn’t look happy,” Xan said to John. “She’s shaking her head; just put up her hand to him. Now she’s walking—no wait, kind of jogging—away from him toward the stables. She’ll get there before us, I think.”

  “What does that beggar want with her, I wonder?” John said.

  “You don’t think he’s involved with the theft somehow, do you?” Lucy asked.

  “Nay,” Xan said. Surely that beggar couldn’t get past those guards, slow as he was.

  They continued plodding along until they got to the stables, where ponies, sheep, and other beasts rested in the shade. The reek of the animals hung in the air. There they found Giles and Aubrey ducked behind a dilapidated wagon, spying on Gilbert and Adela.

  Aubrey put a finger to his lips. “Shush! They’re both looking at a pony now. Gilbert talked to the stablemaster and arranged to buy the brown one.”

  “Probably to carry off their gold later,” Odo said. The four of them crept nearer, trying to hear the conversation. Only snatches of words came through.

  Adela was standing at arm’s length from Gilbert. They seemed to be having another disagreement. “John, what do you hear?” Xan said.

  Closing his sightless eyes, John tried to concentrate. “Something about the pony . . . and getting far away.”

  Just then a sparkling trumpet blasted, echoing across the land. Gilbert and Adela threw themselves behind a cart, cowering. Only when the sound had stopped echoing did they dare to peek out at the commotion.

  Startled out of their whispering, they spoke plainly now. “’Tis nothing to fear,” Gilbert said. “The guards practice for the prince-bishop’s arrival.”

  “Oh, just a practice?” Adela breathed a deep sigh. “How long must we live like this, Gilbert? I can hardly feel a moment’s peace, always looking back over our shoulders.”

  Who did she fear would find them?

  Gilbert sighed. “You fell in love with a fool, my dear. But do not fear. For you, I would steal the moon from the night sky. And I will always be here to protect you, for I am Apollo, god of the sun!” He beat his chest.

  Adela finally smiled. “Well, if you are to be a god, then I should be a goddess.”

  Gilbert snapped his fingers. “Indeed. I shall call you Aphrodite, my goddess of love. Now come, my goddess. We can return tonight for our noble steed.” With that, the couple headed back toward the guesthouse.

  Aubrey pointed. “We’ll stay with them and see if they hid that ruby somewhere.”

  “I’m tired,” whined Giles. “Can I have a break?” His brown eyes opened wide in pleading.

  “Fine. I’ll go alone.” Aubrey gave a wave and headed off, a safe distance behind the couple.

  “We should talk to Alford now,” Lucy said. “Get him to search Apollo’s room.”

  “Nay,” John said. “Don’t tell him anything. I don’t trust that Alford one bit.” Xan and Lucy exchanged a glance. Alford had questioned all the guards. He was also the one with the authority to search Gilbert’s room for Eden’s Fire. And, if Xan shared some news with him, maybe Alford would share some of what he’d learned during his guard interviews.

  “Anyway,” John added. “Who’s watching Brother Bernard? Don’t forget—him and that magician might have had a tricky way to put those guards to sleep or something.”

  Odo nodded. “The Magician definitely could have stolen that ruby with Brother’s help.”

  True, they hadn’t ruled out Brother Bernard and the Magician as suspects. If nothing else, maybe they should at least humor John to keep him from falling back into despair.

  “All right, John,” Xan said. “Let’s find Brother Bernard first.”

  As it turned out, they didn’t have to search for Brother Bernard at all—he was leaning against the refectory wall when they passed by, head slumped low, pulling apart a weed.

  “What’s the matter, Brother?” Giles asked, when they drew near.

  The monk jolted and dropped the stem to the dirt, wiping his hands on his robe. “Nothing, my good child.” He smiled, a bit too cheerfully. “All is well!”

  “Are you certain, Brother?” Xan asked. “You seem so sad lately.”

  The monk flushed beet red. “Who, me? Nay. I await the prince-bishop today. And then, tomorrow, your Brother Andrew will be ordained a priest. How glorious!”

  But his words couldn’t cover the sorrow in his eyes. This wasn’t the look of a person who’d helped steal a priceless ruby and had found endless wealth. Quite the opposite. He looked as though he’d lost something himself. “Now you children go and have fun,” the monk said. “Old Bunny will be perfectly fine.”

  They left Brother Bernard in peace and continued to trudge along the path.

  “That’s all we can do with him for now,” Xan said as they walked. “Time to talk to Alford.”

  John shook his head. “That wasn’t much of an effort with Bunny.”

  “If you could have seen him, John, you’d realize not to waste our time on him anymore.”

  John turned red. “Well, I don’t trust that Alford. Just bring me back to the dorm now.”

  Odo nodded. “Yeah, me too. Alford’s boring and rude.”

  “But he’s the only one who can search Gilbert’s room,” Lucy said.

  “I don’t care,” said John. “I don’t want to be around him. I’m tired. Just let me be.”

  18

  The Lady’s Rules

  They escorted John and Odo back to the dormitory. John’s foul mood had returned, along with his self-pitying. Despite Xan trying to include him in the mystery, he seemed to be falling back into a depression. Maybe Isaiah’s prophecy wasn’t going to be fulfilled after all.

  Suspicion over Gilbert and Adela had been John’s theory—thanks to the promptings of Xan himself—but Aubrey and Xan recently had taken the lead finding those clues. Now John seemed focused on Brother Bernard and the Magician instead. But Brother Andrew was coming back tonight, and still Xan hadn’t found the ruby. How much longer could he keep humoring John?

  “We’ll report back to you as soon as we’re done,” he told John, after settling him upstairs.

  “You do that,” John said, yawning. “I’ll be sleeping.”

  Odo laughed. “He means we’ll be talking more about the Magician.”

  With that, Xan, Lucy, and Giles set off to find Alford. They searched in vain. Xan led them from building to building, always optimistic that Alford would be at the next location, but the lady’s head servant was nowhere to be found.

  Finally, Lucy stopped and asked a guard posted outside the lady’s guest building. He directed them to the priory’s chapter house, where Alford had gone to interrogate more witnesses.

  “See, Xan?” Lucy said. “Was it so bad to just ask someone?”

  They made it to the chapter house and knocked on the door. When they entered, they found Alford seated at a table with parchments and boo
ks all around him. A guard stood by his side.

  “I am a bit busy right now.” Alford pointed to the mess. “Is this an urgent matter?”

  “Aye,” Xan said. “We need to tell you what we’ve found out.”

  “Make it quick, child.” Alford rolled his eyes.

  Xan stood straight and told Alford about Gilbert and Adela’s interest in the ruby, about the band of thieves hiding in the woodlands, and about Brother Bernard’s trip to the Magician with the bracelet. The part about the Magician seemed to catch Alford’s interest.

  “You say the monk met with some kind of magician or trickster—perhaps someone with access to some dark sorcery?” Alford tapped his hand on his thick neck. “Interesting.”

  Still Xan had not got to the details about the guard’s visit to Adela. “What’s more important, I think, is who we saw with one of the lady’s guards.”

  Alford chuckled. “I am not worried about her guards. They are trustworthy, loyal men.”

  “But listen,” Lucy said. “We saw one of the lady’s guards meeting with Adela, and—”

  “Meeting with Adela?” Alford said with a smug attitude. “Do not be preposterous. There were two guards at that door ’til the very moment I entered the room and discovered the empty chest. The final pair of guards was finishing the last shift of the night, and they did not know each other beforehand. I personally questioned each one of them yesterday and found no irregularities.”

  Lucy’s olive skin was turning red. “But did you ask that one guard about Adela, and—”

  “And the guards opened the door for no one except your dear Brother Andrew himself,” Alford continued, with a flick of his hand. “So, whoever stole this jewel had a store of guile and bewitchment so deep and so cunning it could confound even guards on their highest alert.”

  To Alford—like John—the notion of a tricky magician enchanting the guards seemed the only logical solution to the problem. But time was too short to waste on such addlepated theories.