The Fire of Eden

by Antony Barone Kolenc

  Still the beggar remained mute.

  Xan took a step—ouch! But he had to get to Lady Beaumont; the beggar’s life depended on it. Still the crowd was pressed together, making his passage difficult.

  Alford waved the dagger in the air. “This supposed beggar met with this woman. That much I have learned from the testimony of witnesses in this hall. See how he refuses to answer. He is no beggar at all, but a thief! No doubt one of the band of thieves that hide out in these holy hills.”

  Alford turned back to the beggar. “And there is only one thing a thief understands.”

  The Prior of Grenton threw up his hands and attempted a weak cry, but Alford had now pressed the dagger tightly against the beggar’s throat as though to execute the man.

  Too late! There was no time for Xan to get to the lady now. “Stop!” he screamed, as loudly as he ever had done in his life.

  The shout startled Alford, who let up the pressure of the dagger upon the beggar’s neck.

  Xan shoved others aside, defying the pain in his ankle until he stood in the light before Alford. At the same moment, the Prior of Grenton also pressed into the room’s center.

  Alford turned his anger on Xan. “You may leave, boy, but you will not stop my justice.”

  Xan clenched both fists and drew himself up as high as his young body would permit. But Alford seemed at least twice as tall and as strong as him. He couldn’t stop the servant if he tried.

  Suddenly Aubrey stood by his side, along with Lucy and Giles. They’d been following in his wake the whole time and now joined him there in a unity that required no words to understand.

  “We won’t let you harm him.” Xan’s heart trembled like a frightened fox. Turning to the Prior of Grenton, he pleaded, “Please, won’t you stop this and let us speak?”

  The Prior of Grenton reached Alford and placed himself between the dagger and the beggar. “Nay, my lady. Blood shall not be shed under this holy roof. Let the children speak.”

  Alford laughed. “What could they possibly say? This filthy thief will not even defend himself. The words of some boys and a girl hardly matter.”

  Lucy stepped forward. “May I say something, Prior?”

  The monk nodded. “Of course, child. What is it?”

  She clasped her hands together, as though in prayer. “I remember a story about another innocent man accused of crimes. He also refused to answer questions.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” said Alford.

  The prior patted Lucy’s shoulder. “The girl tells of how our Lord Jesus refused to defend himself to Caiaphas, the high priest, before our Lord’s crucifixion. Lady Beaumont, would you have this servant of yours take the role of both Caiaphas and Pontius Pilate here tonight?”

  The Lady did not respond.

  “With all due respect, Prior,” Alford said. “This filthy thief is no prophet or savior.”

  But seeing that the prior was not backing down, Alford shoved the beggar to the floor and stuck his dagger back under his belt. “Fine, then, Prior. Let the children speak.”

  All eyes turned to Lucy.

  She turned her eyes to Xan. Everyone else did too. He’d unraveled all the clues, but now he needed to explain it all. Would they ever believe it? Probably not—at least not without Brother Andrew.

  When would the monk arrive?

  21

  Scoundrels and Villains

  Lucy gave him a supportive smile. “Go on, Xan. You can do it.”

  He nodded. This was his moment again, just like at Lord Godfrey’s manor house. He turned to the Prior of Grenton. “None of this has to do with this poor beggar. It all started with Brother Andrew and his fear that the world can corrupt even the best of monks.”

  “One of my monks is corrupt?” the prior said. “Which one?”

  Xan peered over the heads of the crowd until his eyes rested upon a lone figure leaning against the wall. “’Tis Brother Bernard—he’s a thief and a liar.”

  The refectory exploded in an uproar. Two of the lady’s guards seized the accused monk by his black robe and dragged him to the prior’s feet. But then Alford scoffed at Xan. “You think this fat monk made it past my guards and stole Eden’s Fire?”

  “Nay,” Xan said. “Not Eden’s Fire, but he’s stolen other items. Prior, haven’t your guests had property go missing from their rooms lately?”

  The prior nodded. “True. From time to time we receive such claims of stolen items. But why would a monk take such things? He cannot sell jewelry here at Grenton Priory.”

  “Because of that magician,” Xan said, pointing at the silver-bearded seer. The old villain smirked smugly at the mention of himself. “He grows rich by selling his supposed magic,” Xan said. “My friends and I saw Brother Bernard visit his cottage and give him a bracelet so that he could hear his fortune told.”

  The prior turned to his monk in shock. “Is this true, Bernard? You would seek the devil’s words about your future instead of trusting patiently in God’s plan for you?”

  The monk burst into tears and threw himself on the floor at his prior’s feet, clinging to his legs and begging forgiveness. His sobbing confession was a blur of indecipherable blubbering.

  Alford seemed alarmed by this development. “The boy told me what he saw, but we searched that monk’s room thoroughly. If he is such a thief, why did we find no evidence there?”

  “Because he too is a victim of crime,” Xan said, pointing toward Gilbert and Adela. “Brother Bernard isn’t the only thief in this room.”

  Alford snapped his fingers toward a guard. “So, the woman is guilty, as I said.”

  Xan shook his head. “Not directly. ’Twas her husband, who has sometimes called himself Apollo—he’s the one who stole those treasures from Brother Bernard’s cell.”

  Gilbert drew his dagger before any guard could take hold of him. “That is a lie!”

  Xan bent to Brother Bernard, who was still wetting the prior’s robe with his tears. “Brother, isn’t that why you’ve been so sad? Because you yourself fell prey to a thief?”

  The repentant monk sniffled and nodded. “They stole everything I had hidden there.”

  “How do you know this, boy?” Alford wringed his hands. “Simply because he looked sad?”

  “Also by how he told your guard to search his cell. The way Brother said it with such pain in his voice and such certainty his cell was empty—like one who mourns something he has lost.”

  “But how did this thief know Bernard had these treasures?” the prior asked.

  “I can only guess,” said Xan. “But somehow Gilbert knew Brother Bernard had silver and jewelry. My friend John—who has very keen ears—heard him talk about it in the refectory.”

  “Wait!” Brother Bernard cried, wiping a tear with his sleeve. “Two days ago, I had placed a ring, necklace, and bracelet in my pouch, but I could not decide which to offer the Magician. I debated with myself by the fountain. This Apollo walked past me—perhaps he saw that I had some treasures in my pouch.”

  “These are the mere guesses of a child,” Gilbert said, still holding the guards at bay with his dagger. “Ask Alford. He searched our room and found nothing.”

  “That’s because you’d already got rid of it all,” Xan said. He pointed to his friends. “We followed you. We saw you give that pouch to a strange man in the shadows.”

  “Strange men in shadows?” Gilbert said. “What fanciful children; such imaginations.”

  “But I followed this man—Hermes was his name—and I found a guild of thieves who use code names based on Greek gods. Like Apollo. He showed the other thieves what was in that pouch you gave him: trinkets of jewelry, just like the ones stolen from Brother Bernard. I would be glad to show the sheriff exactly where they are hiding. There is a trail marker for all to see.”

  To that, Gilbert had no reply.

  The Prior of Grenton raised his eyebrows. “Impressive, boy. Clement was right about you.”

  “You also surprise
me,” Alford said. “But these are trivial matters. What of Eden’s Fire?”

  “I’ll get to that,” Xan said. “First—”

  “Nay, let me tell you what I know.” Alford pointed to Adela. “’Twas this woman who conspired with the guard Erick to steal the gem. They worked in private to plan the crime—I have witnesses. Indeed, this Erick was one of the guards on duty the morning it disappeared. Then she met this filthy beggar on the road to get rid of the jewel. Maybe he’s part of that guild!”

  “But you told me yourself,” Xan said. “One guard alone could not steal Eden’s Fire because two always kept watch. I think this guard and this woman met not to steal but to find love.”

  “Aye,” Erick said. “I am no thief! But this fair lady—I love her. In just two short days she has become the sun and the moon to me.” Gilbert sprang toward Adela and raised his hand as if to strike her. “Is this true, you disloyal, ungrateful—”

  Erick broke free from the grasp of the guards and tackled Gilbert to the ground, knocking his dagger to the stone with a clatter.

  “But how can she find new love?” Alford said. “She is already married to this Apollo.” The raucous crowd again turned their eyes of judgment upon Adela.

  “Nay,” Adela said, her embarrassment passing to fury. “This man—Apollo—is not my husband. Why I ever took up with him, I do not know. He is a thief wanted by the sheriff of Carlisle. Indeed, I have done nothing but fear the arm of that sheriff for the two weeks since we fled together. Can you blame me for now seeking love in a man who might truly care for me?”

  “You are a disgrace!” Gilbert cursed, his head pinned to the floor by Erick’s arm.

  “You are the disgrace!” she yelled. “You call yourself Apollo, but are you a god? Nay, only a villain. I saw you with that monk’s treasures. You can take back all your gifts to me.” With that, Adela flung a necklace at Gilbert and threw her purse to the ground—the one she’d hidden when they’d first encountered her on the road to Grenton Priory.

  “Then he is guilty, as the boy says!” the prior said. “The woman’s testimony will prove it.”

  “But what of this filthy beggar?” Alford said in a desperate voice. “This woman met him on the road. Surely she was not seeking love from him too?”

  Adela wrinkled her nose. “That was but a chance meeting as I sought my true love. Erick and I were to meet in the woodland to share a moment of peace. Then this old man came to me on the path. But we did not speak of jewels. He told me that God would forgive me if I repented.”

  Through all this chaos, Lady Beaumont strode forward, bringing the hall to a hush.

  “So, then, this Apollo stole my precious jewel?” She kicked him hard in the gut as he lay pinned. Gilbert moaned in pain.

  Xan leapt forward. “Nay! Not even him, Lady Beaumont.”

  She gawked at him. “’Tis not the monk—nor is it this scoundrel or his girlfriend—and ’tis not the guard or this beggar, either?”

  “Aye, not any of them. As Alford has said many times, Eden’s Fire was guarded by noble and loyal guards. It would be impossible to break into that room.”

  At that, Alford turned to the Magician. “Then the stories about you are true!” He drew his dagger again. “You enchanted the guards—or appeared inside the room through witchcraft!”

  Abruptly, the Magician flung back his cape and held his staff aloft. “Back!” A flame shone in his eyes, and his bushy brows were rimmed with malevolence. “Back, I say!” An evil grin crept across his cheeks.

  Alford crouched to the floor as though a wicked spell would fly at any moment. The crowd gasped and backed away, leaving a broad circle around the seer.

  All but Xan. “This is no wizard,” he said, meeting him square in the eye. “He’s a fake.”

  Lady Beaumont peeped out from behind a guard as Alford stumbled to his feet.

  The Magician didn’t move.

  “What do you mean?” the lady asked.

  “Why don’t you show them your magic book?” Xan said. “Go ahead.”

  The Magician’s grim smile froze and fell into a deep scowl. He raised his staff again for effect, but the crowd did not fall back any farther. Even Brother Bernard seemed to escape the seer’s spell. “What is in that secret book?”

  “Would you like to tell them, or should I?” Xan said.

  The Magician stared speechlessly into the faces of those around him.

  “What’s written in the smelly book, Xan?” Aubrey shouted out with a laugh. Others also started to chuckle—hesitantly at first, but then with greater boldness when the Magician did not call down curses upon them.

  “Actually, nothing,” Xan said with a smirk. “After the first page, they’re all blank!”

  The hall filled again with the uproar of disbelief.

  “There’s something else,” Xan added. “In the center of the book there is a true surprise. Why don’t you show them?”

  The Magician shook out of either fear or anger or both. Again, he lifted his splintered staff in an ominous gesture. “I give you all one final warning.” His tone was loud and deep.

  But Lady Beaumont marched right up to the Magician and slapped him hard on the cheek. He fell back like a child in dread of a spanking. “Give me that book!” she said, ripping it from his weak fingers. Then she flipped open its ancient cover and paged to its center. With a last sharp look at the Magician, she reached inside.

  “There is a hole cut into the middle of this book,” she said, pulling out a leather pouch and flipping it over, dropping its contents onto a table. “And this bag of—of trinkets was kept inside.”

  Rings, bracelets, and other stolen jewelry scattered about the top of the table.

  “He is no better than me,” Brother Bernard said in despair. “For years his legend has grown, yet he has been merely playing a part—chanting and dancing about with his fire and spells.”

  Poor Brother Bernard, only now realizing he’d betrayed his vows and traded in truth for these cheap lies. As when Carlo lay dying in that dungeon—what good had all the treasure he’d stolen in his life done for him at the end? He’d traded a life of good for a life he came to regret.

  But that was the whole point of Brother Bernard taking vows: to strengthen him to stay on the path of truth. Yet he too had strayed badly. If Xan took the vows of a monk one day, how could he be sure he wouldn’t do the same?

  Brother Bernard was still shaking his head. “No magic at all—a fake and a liar.”

  “But what about that scary story you told us, Bunny?” Aubrey asked.

  The monk threw down his gaze in shame. “I may have added a few details—you know, to make it a bit more interesting. But see: it turns out he is nothing but a stinky, greedy fraud.”

  Lady Beaumont turned again to the Magician. She could have burned the seer with the malice that flamed from her eyes. “Where is my jewel? Where is Eden’s Fire?” She raised a closed fist as if to strike him. But the Magician did not pull Eden’s Fire from a hidden place. Nor did he attempt to escape or call down fire from the skies. He simply fainted, falling on his crooked nose. No one bothered to flip him over.

  “He doesn’t have your ruby,” Xan said, coming up behind Lady Beaumont.

  “How is that possible?” she cried. “Someone stole my jewel. Who? Tell me this instant!”

  All turned to Xan in expectation as his heart raced faster than ever. Why hadn’t Brother Andrew arrived yet? If he were here, all could be explained.

  “Well?” Alford said. “Answer the lady’s question.”

  This was too much—like Christina back in Lincoln that first day he met her, with so many questions and so much pressure to get it right that he could barely get his own name out.

  “All right.” Xan sighed. “The thief is . . . actually, what I mean to say is . . . well, the person who took Eden’s Fire is—”

  22

  Reversal of Fortune

  Just then Father Clement burst through the refectory door with Br
other Andrew.

  “Am I too late once again?” Father Clement looked about the room with despair in his eyes, like on the day of John’s injury and when the wooden wheel had split on the road to Grenton.

  “Mother, you must stop this madness!” Brother Andrew said, pulling at his beard.

  Lady Beaumont threw her hands into the air. “Enough! The boy was about to reveal who stole Eden’s Fire. Robert, your poor mother’s heart is exhausted. Be still and let the child speak.”

  All attention swung back to Xan. This would be the worst part of all. He cleared his throat.

  “Aye, child? The thief is . . .?” the Lady prompted.

  He raised a trembling finger and pointed toward the door.

  “Father Clement?” the Lady said, confused. “The prior of Harwood Abbey stole my ruby?”

  “Nay, Mother,” Brother Andrew said. “I am responsible for the jewel’s disappearance.”

  “What?” Lady Beaumont gasped, and the room grew deathly silent. “Is this true, boy?”

  Xan gave a nod and bowed his head. “No one else could get into Brother’s room but him. I’d wondered about his strange reaction the morning it disappeared—like nothing bad had happened at all—but I thought he might have been distracted. Only after searching all the clues did I realize he was the only person who could have taken the jewel from his room.”

  Brother Andrew smiled. “By Adam, you have done well. Very well.” The monk reached out his hand to Xan’s shoulder, but he pulled away.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Brother? How could you let us all think Eden’s Fire had been stolen?” He tried his best to hold back the tears.

  “Xan, forgive me. I never expected anyone to know I had got rid of the jewel in the first place. And when my mother found it gone, I simply could not handle another argument—not when I was already late for my retreat. But now that I see what happened in my absence, I know my sin was grievous. I had no idea the situation would become so dangerous. I beg your forgiveness.”

  “But how could you get rid of it, Robert?” Lady Beaumont cried. She faltered and would have fallen, except for the hands of Alford, who caught her and leaned her against the table.