The Fire of Eden

by Antony Barone Kolenc

  This worldly possession of a ruby had not only possessed her husband, but also the lady herself. Both had valued the worth of a jewel even more than their son. If Xan became Uncle William’s apprentice, would not his whole life be centered on worldly possessions too?

  “I am a coward,” Brother Andrew said. “I should have told the truth when you searched my room and did not find the ruby. But I did not want to bear your wrath ’til after my ordination.”

  The woman began to cry and could not speak.

  “And what is the truth, Andrew?” Brother Leo asked, coming near. “Tell us now.”

  “Have you destroyed Eden’s Fire?” the lady said with a whimper. “Where has it gone?”

  Brother Andrew sighed. “The truth is that I have made careful arrangements for Eden’s Fire. Indeed, ’tis with the Captain of the Guard. The prince-bishop will give me a fair price for its value: such a fortune that can truly help those most in need. Our jewel will be displayed in a place of honor in the prince-bishop’s castle for all to see.”

  “But why, Robert?” the Lady muttered between sobs. “Why would you cast aside your father’s dearest possession? Have I truly lost my son, then?”

  He embraced his mother without protest, calming her until her sorrow ran dry. “I did not cast away Father’s treasure. Did you not hear the Captain of the Guard discuss the dire need in Durham? Widows and orphans are dying on the vine because there is not enough for them. Your gift to me, Mother, will bring them life and hope. All this aid will be given in Father’s name. I have done this to honor the soul of my father—not to disgrace him.”

  The lady’s harshness softened as Brother Andrew explained himself.

  Then the monk dried a tear from his blue eye. “The generosity of the Beaumont name will live on for many generations and will bring comfort to the poorest of God’s children. For as Christ told us: whatever we do unto the least of His brothers and sisters, we do unto Him.”

  Lady Beaumont began to sob again, but they were no longer tears of anger. “Robert, your father loved you dearly! Even as he lay dying, he confessed that his one regret was how he treated you. He was wrong, son, and he knew it. He was simply too proud to say it.”

  “I would have hurried home to see him,” he said. “Why did you not call for me sooner?”

  The woman’s shoulders slumped. “Pride. It took me years to get past my own bitterness. But the gift of Eden’s Fire was meant to mend these hurts and reunite our family.”

  Brother Andrew kissed his mother’s wide forehead. “In a strange way it has done just that.”

  “A strange way, indeed,” she said.

  “But, please, Mother: do not resent my vocation to serve Christ’s Church. For in the morning, I will become a priest forever.”

  The woman straightened to her full proud height and smoothed the creases from her dress. “I know, Robert. ’Twas foolish for your father and I to wish anything else for you.” She embraced her son again.

  At that moment, a crisp horn sounded over the grounds of Grenton Priory, followed by an answering blast and a clamor from the meadow.

  “The prince-bishop has arrived!” many voices shouted. Excitement stirred through the room. Even the children jumped to their feet. Giles helped his brother, while Aubrey assisted John.

  As the echo of the second blast faded, the Captain of the Guard strode into the hall. “Prior? Lady? Come. The prince-bishop awaits you in his quarters.”

  “And Eden’s Fire—is it safe, Captain?” the lady asked.

  The captain glanced toward Brother Andrew in puzzlement. “I apologize, Lady Beaumont, but why do you ask me about your jewel?”

  Brother Andrew raised a palm to the man and grinned. “All is well, Captain. I have told my mother of our agreement. You may answer her question.”

  The captain seemed troubled. “I do not yet have your gem, Brother. I did not wish to remove it from your room ’til after I confirmed our plan with the prince-bishop.”

  Brother Andrew’s smile vanished into blankness and then panic. “But did you not take Eden’s Fire with you when you departed to meet your lord? I left it there for you and assumed you would retrieve it from your guard at the door.”

  “Nay, Brother. When I departed, ’twas safely under guard in your room, where you left it.”

  “But—by Adam, ’twas missing from my room as soon as you departed!” The blood drained from Brother Andrew’s cheeks.

  “Robert? What are you saying?” Lady Beaumont asked.

  The monk grasped the edge of the table to steady himself. “Mother, Eden’s Fire is stolen!”

  Chaos filled the refectory. Even Brother Leo and Brother Lucius shouted out in distress.

  “Guards! To the doors!” Alford shouted, running to block the largest window.

  The guards sprang to the exits while the lady cursed aloud without shame.

  But Brother Andrew, paralyzed, said nothing as tears ran down his cheeks. He must have indeed cherished his family’s treasure dearly. The day he left on retreat, he’d thought Eden’s Fire safe. No wonder he’d been so calm about its disappearance. But this—this was his true reaction.

  In the chaos, Lucy ran to Xan’s side, with Giles at her heels. “Now what do we do, Xan?”

  This made no sense. Xan had figured out all the clues himself. He’d thought it all through. He’d solved the mystery. He’d been right and he’d known it—was sure of it. Yet he’d been wrong.

  “I—I don’t know, Lucy. I didn’t solve anything at all. I don’t—don’t understand.” How could he be wrong? It was an impossible crime. His solution had been the only one.

  “Don’t just stand there,” she said. “You’re clever, but you let pride blind you to the truth.”

  Lucy was right. He’d been full of pride this whole time, thinking that only he could solve this mystery. John was right too—Xan had thought himself better than all the others. But now his pride had betrayed him, hadn’t it? Perhaps if he’d focused more on others instead of trying to figure everything out himself, Brother Andrew’s jewel wouldn’t now be lost forever.

  “Don’t give up,” Lucy said. “Brother Andrew needs us.”

  Maybe it wasn’t too late. He wasn’t the only one who’d seen the clues. Even though he’d come to the wrong conclusion—well, not quite but almost—perhaps with the help of the others they could still solve this crime.

  He gathered Lucy and the others around John and Odo. “All right,” he said. “We all need to figure this out.” He spoke his thoughts aloud. “Brother Andrew meant for the Captain of the Guard to take the ruby. He’d left it safely in his room that morning, but someone stole it ere he got back. Who?”

  Aubrey scratched his head. “Well, who else was at Brother Andrew’s room that morning?”

  “Right!” Xan said. “That’s the right question!”

  “There were the two guards,” Giles reminded them.

  “And Brother Andrew,” Odo said.

  “And Alford and the lady,” Lucy added.

  “I hate that Alford,” John said.

  Xan looked to Lucy—her brown eyes had lit up at the same time as his own. They smiled together as though they’d just read each other’s minds. “John,” Xan said. “You’ve never trusted Alford. Why not?”

  John shrugged. “His voice. It sounds . . . well, I guess he sounds like me sometimes . . . when I used to be up to no good back at the abbey.”

  Lucy and Xan nodded to each other in full agreement. “C’mon, then,” she said. “Get everyone to be quiet.”

  Xan leapt upon an empty table. “The thief!” he shouted. “The thief!”

  A black wave of silence rushed across the room.

  “Where’s that guard Erick?” Lucy asked.

  “I am here.” Erick had been given his freedom when Xan was explaining things earlier.

  “Please,” Lucy said. “Tell us who entered Brother Andrew’s room while you guarded it.”

  “You mean besides Brother Andrew?”r />
  “Aye. Besides him.”

  The guard reflected for a second. “No one ’til the Lady and her servant came to check on the ruby. Alford entered and discovered the missing jewel. Then the Lady checked for herself.”

  “So, Alford was the first one in the room,” Xan said, his words slow and deliberate.

  “And he’s the one who’s been running this whole investigation,” Lucy said.

  “Meaning,” Xan added, “he’s the only one who’s never had to get searched.”

  “Where is Alford?” Brother Andrew said. “What does he have to say for himself?”

  Lucy turned. “He’s by the window.” Then her gentle eyes shot open wide. “Nay, he’s gone!” She pointed to the empty place in front of the window where Alford had been.

  “We must find Alford—now!” Xan said. “He has Eden’s Fire.”

  A roomful of uncertain guards turned to Lady Beaumont and the captain. “What are you all waiting for?” the lady shouted. “You heard the boy. Go!”

  Search parties shot out in all directions to track down Alford.

  “The ponies!” Odo called out. “He’ll need one to escape, won’t he?”

  There was no need for further talk; they all knew what must be done. Xan—ignoring the pain in his leg—sprinted with Aubrey toward the stables, with Lucy close behind. They arrived to find Alford already mounted and spurring a black horse forward.

  “We’re too late!” Aubrey cried. The horse whinnied and burst through the open stable door, with Alford grinning in victory. But Xan threw himself into the beast’s path, waving both arms and screaming. It reared back in fear, throwing Alford to the ground in a crashing heap. He rose with his dagger unsheathed.

  “Get out of my way, boy, if you want to live!”

  “First give us Eden’s Fire,” Xan said, blocking Alford’s escape.

  “Nay, you will never get—”

  He never finished his threat. Aubrey tackled him from behind, grasping at his legs. A small leather pouch flew off Alford’s belt, slid across the dirt, and landed at Xan’s feet.

  He picked it up and felt Eden’s Fire between his palms.

  Just then the Captain of the Guard arrived with two men in tow. Lady Beaumont followed close behind, catching her breath. As the two guards held Alford’s hands behind his back, the lady stood with her nose to her servant’s face.

  “To think I trusted you, Alford. And after all I have done for you. But I see that Eden’s Fire was too great a temptation.”

  Alford raised his thick neck and stared the lady directly in the eye. “I have served you and your family loyally since I was a young man. All I received in return were your haughty commands and orders. Your husband was a worthy nobleman, but you are a thing of scorn to me.”

  “You shut up!” the captain ordered.

  Xan took the pouch and handed it to the lady. Though his own pride had led him astray, somehow all had worked out in the end. God had once again brought good from evil.

  “Thank you, Xan,” the lady said. “But how did he do it? Did he bribe the guards?”

  “Nay,” said Lucy. “He must have taken it when he went into the room. I remember Brother Andrew had left the chest open under the bed.”

  “He was in there but a few seconds before he claimed ’twas missing,” she answered.

  “Just enough time to pocket the ruby and sound the alarm,” Xan said.

  Lucy put her hands on her hips. “No wonder he didn’t want help. He needed to find someone to blame. He would have executed that poor beggar and blamed it all on him, probably.”

  Alford spat toward Lucy. At that, Aubrey crushed him to the ground with a terrible blow to the servant’s face. “Show my sister some respect.”

  23

  A New Path

  I have kept the prince-bishop waiting far too long,” Lady Beaumont said, after they’d returned to the refectory and revealed what had happened to all the rest. “I must go.” She stopped a moment in front of her guard, who stood near Adela. “Erick, I am sorry you were accused falsely. I wish you and this woman a happy future.”

  The guard bowed. “Thank you, my lady. I have been doubly blessed today. God has saved me from the noose, and Adela has just accepted my proposal to marry.”

  The lady nodded her approval and then pointed to Gilbert. “As for this Apollo. I will ask the Captain of the Guard to transport him to Carlisle to stand trial with the sheriff for his crimes.” As the lady exited, the Prior of Grenton came near to Father Clement and Brother Charles. “I too must go and welcome the prince-bishop. But first I must deal with my wayward monk.”

  At that, Brother Bernard fell again at his prior’s feet, begging for mercy.

  “What shall I do with you, Bernard?” the Prior of Grenton asked.

  In between sobs, the poor monk muttered, “I have sinned . . . unworthy to be a monk. Send me away with the Magician—to the dungeon—to exile.”

  The prior turned to Father Clement beside him. “Do you have any recommendation in this difficult matter? I can see you are a strong leader of good judgment and humble wisdom.”

  “Your faith in me is like the voice of God speaking comfort to my uncertain heart.” Father Clement made the Sign of the Cross. “As for your monk, he does seem genuinely remorseful.” That was quite right. Brother Bernard plainly was sorry for his sins. Perhaps with the proper instruction and supervision he could be rehabilitated and become true to his vows once again.

  “Couldn’t he come to Harwood Abbey?” Xan asked. “Life there isn’t so . . . so . . .”

  “So worldly?” the Prior of Grenton finished. “I see I have some serious thinking to do about how I am forming my monks. But I could never pass a broken monk to another monastery.”

  “Harwood Abbey would be pleased to take him,” Father Clement said without hesitation. “And I know just the monk who can mold your Brother Bernard back into shape, so to speak.”

  Brother Leo stepped forward, pointing a finger into his own chest. “No doubt you mean me, Father. And you are right—I would be glad to take this one under my charge.”

  “’Tis settled,” declared the Prior of Grenton. “As for that magician, no one should fear that serpent’s magic; this boy has defanged him well enough. When he awakes, call for the sheriff, Brother Charles. And let the sheriff hear what this boy has to say about that den of thieves, too.”

  “I will do as you say,” Brother Charles said.

  Just then the beggar rose from the floor and the Prior of Grenton took his arm. “Please forgive my priory for your poor treatment this day, friend.” The beggar nodded respectfully and shuffled toward the door. When he reached John, who was now leaning on the edge of a table, the beggar stopped and gazed long upon him.

  Feeling his presence, John stirred. “Is something the matter?”

  “The Lord can make crooked ways straight, child,” the beggar told him. “But the journey you must take leads to the foot of the cross.” With that, the decrepit man departed into the darkness.

  “What was that simpkin talking about?” Aubrey mocked after he’d gone.

  Xan sprang forward. “’Tis the verse from Isaiah! ‘I will lead the blind on their journey; . . . I will turn darkness into light before them and make crooked ways straight.’”

  “But what did he mean?” asked John. “I must go to the foot of the cross? What cross?”

  “Who can say?” said Brother Andrew. “We all have our crosses to bear. But could you not feel the beggar’s faith? He was no trickster or thief, but a holy man—a hermit; a prophet perhaps.”

  Giles wrinkled his nose. “But he was so dirty.”

  “Christ is present in the most distressed of us—even a foul beggar,” said Brother Andrew.

  “Aye,” said Father Clement. “Our Lord comes to us in many humble disguises. The only thing He asks is which of us will help our brothers and sisters in the greatest of need.”

  John leaned back against the table. “Some of us aren’t able to
help anymore.”

  Odo came to John’s side and linked arms with him. “Now you’re just being silly again.”

  Brother Andrew lay prostrate on the ground, his arms and legs fully outstretched. Around him, a throng of onlookers waited in anticipation as a crisp voice chanted out names one by one: “Saint Michael . . . Saint Joseph . . . Saint Peter . . . Saint Paul . . . Saint Benedict.” The list went on like a steady drumbeat.

  After each name, the congregation answered with one voice: “Pray for us.”

  The priory swelled with joy for Xan’s teacher on this long-awaited Ember Saturday. Soon the man whom Xan always had called Brother would become Father Andrew.

  The chanting of names continued for many minutes as the monk lay still on the ground and the prince-bishop knelt in front of the altar.

  “All you holy saints of God.”

  “Pray for us.”

  Xan peered across at Lucy, who knelt with hands clasped together, eyes closed, lips moving without sound. A gentle glow shone around her, as though she were in the very presence of God.

  The ritual neared its end as the chanter cried, “Lord, have mercy on us. . . . Christ, have mercy on us. . . . Lord, have mercy on us,” and the people repeated those same words each time.

  John also knelt with eyes wide open, as if gazing into Heaven. Something had changed in him: peace—maybe even humility—had settled on him. This journey to Grenton had brought the healing Isaiah had prophesied, though perhaps in a different way than Xan had anticipated.

  The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur: Brother Andrew rose from the floor and knelt in front of the prince-bishop, who put his hands on the monk’s head; Father Clement, the Prior of Grenton, and others also placed hands on his head; the prince-bishop said many prayers; Brother Andrew’s head and hands were anointed with oil.

  Joyful cheers erupted in the church.

  But with so much joy about, why did Xan feel sorrow? Perhaps because his mentor would never be “Brother Andrew” again. The monk was changing, moving into a new phase of life.