The Emerald Key

by Christopher Dinsdale

  They passed several more farms. These were larger and more established. Women were in the field, either pulling out weeds or planting late seeds. Men were busy splitting wood for the coming winter. As they passed, some of them stopped their work to stare at them as they trotted past.

  “Why are they staring at us?” asked Jamie.

  “Because we are riding together,” she explained. “An Irish man and a Native woman are rarely seen together. There is a tradition of French men and Native women marrying, especially further north along the trading routes. Their descendants are called Métis. But you are obviously Irish, and I have an Irish child on my lap. They are trying to understand why we are together.”

  “Do they think we are married?” asked Jamie.

  Tutuyak looked to him, questioningly. “Possibly. Why? Does that bother you?”

  He smiled. “Actually, I barely know you, but from what I’ve experienced so far, you’re the first woman I’ve ever met that I’d consider marrying.”

  Surprised, she blushed, then smiled. “Sorry, Jamie. You’re too young for me … and I’m not leaving Canada to live a life with you in Ireland.”

  At the next farm, Jamie waved and shouted at the staring woodchopper, “Bonjour! Comment allez-vous? Isn’t my wife beautiful?”

  Confused, the farmer shook his head and went back to work.

  She shoved him, laughing. “Stop it! They know me.”

  Several children were working with a dark-haired woman in the next field. The children all had flaming red hair and freckles.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say those kids were Irish.”

  “They are,” she confirmed.

  “But I read that once the Irish arrive in Canada, most settlers move either to Canada West or travel south to the United States.”

  “I believe you are right. But those children are likely orphans, like Colin.”

  “You mean they’ve been adopted?”

  “Not necessarily. I understand that the French and the Irish share a common religion.”

  “We do. We’re both Catholic.”

  “I heard that the French Catholic church is helping to find shelter for the Irish orphans that have recently arrived in Canada. Many end up as workers on farms and then after some time, they are adopted into the families themselves.”

  “That makes sense. At least the children will have some place to call home.”

  “Perhaps the same will happen for Colin,” she suggested.

  “I hope not,” replied Jamie. “He has an extended family living on a farm in Canada West.”

  “Are they meeting you in Montreal as well?”

  He shook his head. “No. I haven’t figured out that part yet.”

  Wagons full of summer hay, carts carrying fresh produce, and walking travellers were joining them on the dirt road. Jamie, Tutuyak, and Colin continued to get stares from the passersby, but Jamie didn’t notice. He was preoccupied with figuring out the next step of their journey. His thoughts were suddenly broken by a tug on his pant leg.

  He looked down in surprise at a girl, perhaps eleven or twelve, jogging alongside his horse. She had her wild ginger hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and her ghostly grey eyes seemed to stare straight through him.

  “You’re Irish, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am,” he offered.

  “Are you going to Quebec?”

  “Yes again.”

  “I could use a ride into town if you would be so kind.”

  Jamie eyed the girl. “You’re being quite presumptuous, assuming I would even offer you a ride. In fact, I don’t even own this horse.”

  “But I can help you if you give me a ride!” she panted, trying to keep pace.

  “And why do you think that I need help?”

  The girl, out of breath, slowed to a stop and watched the horse trot off. “Because you are a member of the Brotherhood! You must be lost because why else would someone from the Brotherhood be out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  Jamie pulled back on the reins and Falcon came to an abrupt stop. Tutuyak brought the stallion around in a sharp turn in order to see what had happened. Jamie narrowed his eyes and stared at the girl who jogged up to him with surprising confidence.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You are a member of the Brotherhood, aren’t you?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  She looked at him slyly. “Give me a ride and I’ll tell you.”

  The conversation with the young girl was happening in English so Tutuyak looked to Jamie for an explanation. He sighed and explained. “Somehow, this girl knows something about who I am back in Ireland. She won’t explain herself unless I give her a ride into Quebec. Is that all right if she rides on Falcon with me?”

  Tutuyak smiled at the wild-eyed girl, probably appreciating her precociousness as did Jamie. “I’m sure Falcon wouldn’t mind. Tell her to hop on.”

  Jamie nodded to the back of his horse. A big smile flashed across the young girl’s face as he held out a hand and gave her a swing up. Tutuyak and Jamie coaxed their horses forward while Jamie took a deep breath in vexation. First, he’d promised to look after a lad barely out of diapers and now a young girl was hanging on to his waist. What was he, the Pied Piper of Hamlin?

  “This will be a very short ride for you if I don’t quickly hear answers to my questions,” commanded Jamie. “Understood?”

  “All right,” she said.

  “First, what’s your name?”

  “Bethany Fitzgerald, but you can call me Beth,” she said rapidly. “My parents called me Bethany, but I always preferred the sound of Beth. It just has a better ring to it, don’t you think? All my friends call me Beth and I know if I ever have children, I’ll let them call themselves any name—”

  “Whoa! Stop!” shouted Jamie. Lord, this one is a talker. “Bethany, I mean Beth, keep the answers simple or again, this will be a very short ride for you.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. My parents always said that I ran on at the mouth and it’s something of a bad habit that I’ve been working very hard to improve. I’ll do my best not to say more than I have to, but my Aunt Sinead always said it’s important to answer questions accurately, so I will try to—”

  “Beth!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Let’s talk about the Brotherhood. What made you mention that?”

  “Oh, you see, I’m very observant, at least that’s what my mother always said to me, and I noticed that your fourth finger had the ring of the Brotherhood.”

  He looked back, surprised. “How are you familiar with my ring?”

  “Well, my uncle Patrick had a ring just like it back in Ireland, and sometimes he would have these meetings at our farmhouse.”

  “Patrick Fitzgerald,” muttered Jamie. “In Longford?”

  “Yes! That’s my uncle, and our home is in Longford! I wasn’t supposed to listen in on the meetings. I was supposed to be asleep. But my bedroom was right next to where the meetings took place and sometimes I would hear the word “Brotherhood” being used. Then I noticed that the men at the meetings all wore the same rings. I notice things like that. My mother always said that I’m very observant.”

  “Yes, you already said that,” sighed Jamie. “So what did your keen hearing and observations tell you about the Brotherhood?”

  “I don’t know, really. They mentioned ways of helping the poor a lot and many funny words I didn’t recognize. It was almost like they made up the words. Or maybe the words were some sort of secret code. Maybe they had made up their own language! Wouldn’t that be amazing, being able to speak a language that no one else could understand? Just think of …”

  “Should I let you off right now?” Jamie groaned.

  “Sorry.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “They died on the crossing.”

  Jamie paused, his exasperation suddenly fading. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m an orphan.”r />
  “So am I. And so is Colin, the boy on the other horse.”

  “And who is she? She’s so pretty. I wish I could have long, straight black hair like her. I really hate my hair. It’s so curly, it’s like a bird’s nest. At least that’s what my mother always said. If I had a choice, I’d …”

  “That’s Tutuyak,” interrupted Jamie. “She saved Colin and me from drowning and now she’s helping us get to Quebec.”

  “Quebec? That’s where I’m going!”

  “I know! You’ve already told me. Why are you going there?”

  She hesitated, looking at Jamie, deciding whether she could trust him. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

  “I’m running away.”

  “Why?”

  “Two months ago I was taken from an orphanage in Montreal by Monsieur and Madame Viette. They wanted me to help them with their farm. We took a ship back to here, and I was expected to work all day long in and around the farm without any sleep! The farmer’s wife, Madame Viette, was really mean to me. She would make me rest on the manure pile at night to keep warm and beat me with a willow stick if I didn’t work my fingers to the bone! Here, look at my side.”

  She hoisted up the side of her blouse. Nasty red welts crisscrossed her side and ribs.

  Jamie winced. “That looks painful.”

  “That willow stick sure hurts. I think they beat me because they lost two sons in the rebellion against the British lords a few years ago. I’m not British, I’m Irish, but I don’t think they understand the difference.”

  Jamie looked over his shoulder, shocked by what he had just heard. “What did you say? The people of Canada tried to rebel against British rule?”

  She shrugged. “From what I heard, both Canada East and West tried to rebel. I don’t think it went very well. After all, the British are still in charge here, aren’t they?”

  “I didn’t hear about any rebellions in my readings,” Jamie muttered.

  “I think my adopted parents hated me because I speak English. They also wanted a boy. I know they did, but Father McGivney gave them me. Boys are harder to get, you know. Everyone thinks that they are better workers, although I tend to disagree. They may be stronger, but I’ve noticed they often lack the dedication.”

  “Did anyone know you were being beaten?”

  “No. We lived in the woods by ourselves. I’m sure Father McGivney didn’t know that they were going to be so mean to me when he gave me to them. I know lots of other orphans that were taken in by caring families. I wish I could have been one of them.…”

  “Wait … do you know Montreal?”

  She nodded. “Of course. I stayed in Montreal for almost a year before being sent off to the Viette farm.”

  “And do you know the city streets? Buildings? Everything?”

  “Oh yes. I’m very good with directions, at least that’s what Father McGivney said. He sent me out on lots of errands around the city before I was adopted. Did you know that Montreal was built on an island? There is water going all the way around it! I think an island is a very silly place to build a city if you ask me. If I were to build a city, I would—”

  Jamie interrupted. “Beth Fitzgerald. How would you like to come to Montreal with us? I’ve lost all of my maps and I think a knowledgeable guide might come in handy.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Montreal? Really? With you? But that’s where the orphanage is. Someone might recognize me.”

  “Well, if you know the city so well, you should be able to stay far away from the orphanage.”

  “That’s true,” she agreed. “And I think the further away I get from my adopted family, the less likely it will be for them to ever find me again. Montreal is so much bigger than Quebec. It has lots of stores and roads as well as places to hide. Did you know that Montreal is as far as you can sail down the St. Lawrence River, because just after the city there is a large set of rapids and …”

  This time Jamie didn’t try and stop her ramblings for his mind was already swimming in thought. Jamie started to feel more positive about what he first imagined to be an impossible task. He finally felt that he might have a shot at finding his brother and the lost text.

  Chapter 9

  They reined in the horses at the top of a steep decline that wound down to the northern bank of the St. Lawrence River. Below, the mighty river was constricted to a narrow channel and several large ships lay anchored in its glistening waters. In a large dry dock directly below them, Jamie recognized the streamlined hull of the Independence, lying naked in the afternoon sun. The punctured section of hull that Jamie had helped repair during their crossing had been stripped right down to the ribbing. To the right of the dry dock lay a large town. In the centre of a collection of buildings stood a tall, thin, silver spire shining among the mishmash of shingled roofs. On the far side of town, a huge military fort stood prominently on top of a cliff, guarding the area from attack by either water or land.

  Tutuyak stared down at the European settlement. “That is Quebec.”

  Jamie dismounted Falcon and then helped Beth to the ground. “Thank you for your help, Tutuyak.”

  “Thank you,” added Colin, giving Tutuyak a squeeze around her waist.

  Jamie took Colin in his arms and lifted him off the back of her horse. Tutuyak smiled at the three young Irish travellers, her long, black hair flowing freely in the breeze.

  “You have a strong spirit, Jamie Galway. You have chosen a difficult path to follow. I saw it in a dream last night.”

  “You’ve been dreaming about me?” asked Jamie, with a wry smile.

  “Dreams help us make sense of things we don’t understand,” Tutuyak replied. “And you are an interesting man.”

  Just then, a falcon screeched from above and winged its way past them on the warm summer breeze. Jamie’s horse whinnied in response, and Jamie laughed.

  “Falcon thinks he’s a bird.”

  “Their spirits are intertwined,” she explained. “And it is also a sign for you. The falcon will help lead you to where you need to go.”

  “As will my faith,” he added.

  “Be true to yourself.”

  “I’ll miss you,” he replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along with us?”

  “Are you two in love?” asked Beth. “I mean, you kind of remind me of my older sister and her bonny lad just before they kissed. Now that was really disgusting! If you’re going to kiss, warn me, please, because I had to run inside when they did, so I didn’t have to look at it, but then I tripped over a bucket and fell on my face. My sister yelled at me and said I wrecked the moment, which I really didn’t mean to.…”

  Jamie wrapped a hand around her mouth and shook his head. “Can you take this one back with you?”

  “I’m afraid your paths are intertwined as well.” She laughed. “As you say, bonne chance.”

  She gave the horse a kick and trotted away, leading Falcon along behind her. Jamie led Beth and Colin down the steep hill and into the heart of Quebec. It was not as big as Cork or Dublin, but it still had the rhythm of a bustling community. There were bakers and tailors, blacksmiths and printers, all selling their wares behind the seemingly endless clapboard or stone facades. The children hungrily eyed the grocer’s stand with its shelves of fresh fish and vegetables as well as several bakeries with their steaming loaves of bread.

  “I’m hungry,” said Colin.

  “Keep your chin up,” Jamie replied, picking up the pace. “I’m sure there will be a meal waiting for us at the cathedral.”

  The church towered before them. The large stone face and slim silver spire were quite different from the older, squatter Catholic churches found scattered across Ireland. Ignoring the main doors to the sanctuary, Jamie led the children around to the side of the church and the walled cloisters. Entering through a small gateway, they strolled through dark hallways to a wooden door. Jamie grabbed hold of a large iron knocker and rapped it several times. After a moment, it swung open and a thin priest
with greying hair and an open, kind face examined the three Irish youngsters.

  “May I help you?” he asked in French.

  “My name is Jamie Galway,” Jamie replied in French, “I am with the Brotherhood of St. Patrick, and I was hoping that you might give my young friends and me food and lodging for the night.”

  As they shook hands, the priest looked down at the ring on his fourth finger.

  “Yes, of course. I am Monsignor Baillargeon. Please, do come in. A member of the Brotherhood, you say? I didn’t realize members could be so young.”

  The priest moved to the side, allowing Jamie and the children to enter the church office. The room was a small and comfortable study with shelves of books, a writing desk, and a set of cushioned chairs facing a log-burning stone fireplace. Lying on a bearskin in front of the fireplace was a little boy about two years old playing with a set of painted wooden blocks. He had light brown hair with playful green eyes and a halo of freckles across his nose.

  “Little Simon,” said the priest to the young child, “it’s past your bedtime.”

  The priest scooped up the young boy, tickled him until he giggled, then walked him to a narrow flight of stairs that led up to a loft.

  “Please, have a seat by the fire. I will return as soon as I put Simon to bed.”

  Jamie and Beth thankfully collapsed onto the chairs. Colin’s eyes were locked on the collection of colourful blocks on the bearskin. He looked up to Jamie, who nodded his approval. Flashing a smile, the young boy flung himself down on the soft fur and began building towers.

  “I didn’t think priests could have children,” said Beth.

  “They don’t,” agreed Jamie. “But I doubt Simon is his child. They didn’t look anything like each other.”

  She lowered her voice. “Please don’t tell him that I’m a runaway! He might return me back to the orphanage! Or worse, they might send me back to the farm!”

  Jamie paused in thought. “How are you going to get another family if you don’t tell them what happened to you at the farm? I can promise that I’ll do everything I can so that you won’t be sent back to the same family.”