The Strange Round Bird: Or the Poet, the King, and the Mysterious Men in Black

by Eden Unger Bowditch

  “He looks like D’Artagnan of the Three Musketeers,” whispered Noah to Jasper.

  “Lealtà lejn Suleiman,” said D’Artagnan.

  “Merħba, fost aħwa,” said the small man, kissing the young brother on each cheek.

  “Merħba, fost aħwa,” came the shout from the hall, the voice of the many brothers/acolytes, and Lucy.

  “Lucy,” Jasper blushed. Her voice echoed in the hall.

  “I’m welcoming the brother, too,” she said defensively.

  Jasper was the only nay-sayer to Lucy’s vocal participation. The brothers reached under their chairs and pulled out their hats, which they raised to greet D’Artagnan in his new position as musketeer brother in black.

  “So that’s how it happens,” said Noah.

  “That is how they go from being a young apprentice-acolyte to becoming a complete lunatic,” said Faye softly.

  “Everyone has to start somewhere,” said Noah.

  “Well, I am done with starting and I want to finish,” said Faye. “When this is done, let’s find one of the head lunatics and find out exactly what all of this nonsense really means.”

  “Well, of course I want to come with you,” said Miss Brett, hurrying along behind the brother in the black riding cloak. She and the children were hoping to get some answers. Faye had been brave and cornered one of the brothers. She demanded to see the head brother, which they assumed the small man from the ceremony to be. After several confusingly clipped statements, the brother turned and they followed him down the corridor.

  En masse, the group pushed open the door to a chamber, where the mysterious men in black were standing. As if one, the brothers in black turned in their robes to look at the intruders.

  Jasper opened his mouth to speak, “We would like to…well…we have questions.”

  The children stepped forward together. All the mysterious men in black nodded and parted, leaving a path between them that led to a large arched door at the far wall. Another brother in black opened the door with a key from a large chain at his waist. In silence, the children and Miss Brett were led through the heavy door.

  Inside was a large round room. They were in a tower. Walls and walls of books surrounded them in a wide ring. The shelves were bursting with volumes and scrolls. A tall window with a deep ledge stood between two tall bookcases. Lucy put her nose right up and sniffed. She had come to love the smell of old books and thought back to the library in Solemano.

  She ran her fingers along the spines of the books on the highest shelf she could reach but stopped when she came to The Lost Library of Alexandria by Sir Edward Romer, GCMG, Royal Librarian. What a very sad and difficult thing it is to lose a library, Lucy thought.

  Distracted by the sound of flapping wings, Lucy looked up. On the ledge of the bookcase sat a raven. Lucy squealed. On the far side of the ledge was a small falcon on a gold pedestal. Neither bird seemed bothered by his neighbor, though Jasper wondered if they were mortal enemies. Before he could stop her, Lucy reached up and ran her fingers over the raven’s head and back. The bird chattered in pleasure and, Jasper was glad to see, did not bite Lucy’s fingers.

  Telescopes were in place at every window, though Jasper thought there might be more windows hidden behinds the books. A large desk sat in the center, piled with manuscripts and scrolls and quills and ink pots. Behind the manuscripts was a small hunched man with a black cape and somewhat tattered wide hat. His dark round glasses were thick and sat at the end of his bird-like nose. He looked up and smiled at Noah.

  “You’ve come,” said the little man.

  “Who are you?” asked Faye.

  Miss Brett gasped.

  “Mr. Bell!” she cried, smiling broadly.

  “My dear Astraea,” he said, his voice warm and kind. “It has been a long time. Perhaps not so much in time, but certainly long in all that has happened,” he said, gazing at her over the rim of his glasses. “Yes, my dear, you have grown.” His voice resonated with wisdom.

  Miss Brett swallowed hard. He was right. She had grown in so many ways. Her courage, her views of the world, her determination—all had grown by leaps and bounds. The two years since leaving the teaching college had truly felt like a lifetime. It was Mr. Bell who had recommended she take the position caring for the children of the Young Inventors Guild.

  He reached up and removed his glasses. Had she ever seen him without those dark spectacles? His eyes twinkled in the light of his candle, but she suspected that the twinkle came from inside Mr. Bell. She stepped towards him and he took her hand.

  When he looked up into her eyes, she felt that the weight of fear and the burden of worry for the children were somehow different. It was not eased, as when a burden is lifted, but she somehow felt it was shared. He looked up and, without moving, seemed to both understand and acknowledge that he knew her heart and was there for her.

  “It was you at the ceremony,” said Miss Brett with a dawning understanding. “It was you who placed the hat upon the young brother.”

  Mr. Bell smiled. His eyes twinkled and he nodded. “Yes, it was my honor.”

  “Then you…you are the leader?” she asked, suddenly feeling as if she had asked too much. While Mr. Bell did not answer in words, his smile and twinkling eyes told her she had touched upon a truth.

  Still holding her hand, Mr. Bell turned towards the children, who continued to look at the strange man. After his eyes had time to rest upon each one, he folded his hands.

  “Dear ones, it has not been easy for any of you.” When his eyes came to finally rest upon Lucy, she nodded knowingly, as if they had shared a sacred, silent conversation

  “I want you to know that it has not been easy on any of us.” He gently raised his hand to Faye before she could even open her mouth to protest. “It has not been easy on anyone for a very, very long time—much longer than our years combined.”

  “Please,” said Jasper, feeling they had digressed and might lose this chance for information. “Please, sir, there is so much that we do not understand, and so much we do not know. And we all feel that keeping information from us, keeping us in the dark, is not protecting us. It is making us vulnerable to Komar Romak.”

  Mr. Bell looked deeply at Jasper for a long time. No one spoke, though it felt as if Mr. Bell was speaking without words. After several moments, he nodded slowly. “Yes, Master Modest. I think it is time you were given more for your arsenal. But do not think you are simply protected by power. Power is not simple. Knowledge is not simple. You must always remember that knowledge is power that must be respected and feared.”

  “Feared?” asked Faye. “Shouldn’t we fear not knowing instead of knowing?”

  Mr. Bell’s eyes moved from Jasper to Faye. “When you have knowledge, Miss Vigyanveta, you are responsible for it. Knowledge is not always freedom. Sometimes it is a prison. You must understand the responsibility of knowing, about the burden it places upon you. Once you know something, you can never unknow it.”

  Jasper looked from Faye to Mr. Bell. “Sir, perhaps we can learn one thing at a time.”

  “As long as this doesn’t take too long,” said Noah. “We have an important appointment this evening.”

  “One thing at a time will give us the time we need,” Mr. Bell said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Jasper said, not exactly sure what that meant. He was silent for a few moments. “Well, we know the answer to our predicament lies somewhere in the past. So, sir, for my first question, could you please tell us the story of the mysterious men in black?”

  “That, Master Modest, is two stories,” said Mr. Bell. “But I shall tell each in its turn.”

  And so, Mr. Bell told them. He began at his beginning and went from there to share the story of the mysterious brothers in black and where their strange origins and his own became one.

  “But that’s like another mystery and you uncovered yourself,” said Lucy.

  “So it is so, Miss Modest,” said Mr. Bell.

  “And…and you are
all orphans who now lack the feeling of the orphanness because you have each other,” said Lucy, placing a comforting hand on Mr. Bell’s arm.

  “Thank you, Miss Modest,” said Mr. Bell.

  “This is the same Suleiman from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice?” asked Miss Brett.

  “Indeed, Astraea,” said Mr. Bell.

  “Who ‘won three fields of Sultan Suleiman’?” said Lucy, happy that she could remember remembering the line from Shakespeare.

  “Yes, Miss Modest,” said Mr. Bell, smiling, “the very same.”

  “Shakespeare wrote about Suleiman?” Wallace pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

  “Well, he mentions Suleiman,” said Mr. Bell. “Suleiman became ruler in 1520 and ruled an empire. That was most evidently familiar to Shakespeare. Of course, no one knew of Suleiman’s great inventions, his secret, or the order of the brothers in black.”

  Faye jumped in. “But Suleiman asked them to protect something. You still didn’t really explain what he—”

  “That, Miss Vigyanveta, is a long story that must be held for another time,” said Mr. Bell.

  “And the reason the brothers wear the funny hats?” Noah smiled because this was his favorite part of the story. “That has a real place in history?”

  “Indeed, Master Canto-Sagas,” said Mr. Bell.

  “Because they can be strong being Bo Peep or a bunny if they want,” said Lucy.

  “Very true, Miss Modest,” said Mr. Bell.

  “I can tell Noah loves the funny hats now,” said Lucy.

  “I do, especially because they have secret meaning.” Noah began to consider a hat for himself.

  “And what about Rosie?” asked Lucy, thinking of the kind and cuddly cook who had cared for them when they were first taken from their parents.

  Jasper looked at his sister. “Lucy, that has nothing to do with—”

  “Oh, but it does, Master Modest,” said Mr. Bell. “The Celtic history of your caretakers is a long one, indeed. But perhaps that, too, is a story for another time.”

  “I find the idea of Suleiman and Sole Manner quite interesting, Mr. Bell,” said Wallace, sounding almost apologetic to Lucy for returning to the subject of the conversation. “Are there other places besides Sole Manner and Solemano?”

  “Yes, Havre de Salomon in France, Süleyman Caisleán in Ireland, Prístav Sulejman in Slovakia, Сулејман Манор in Montenegro. Of course, there are several safe harbors around the world.” Mr. Bell finished and looked from face to face.

  Miss Brett and the Young Inventors Guild now knew, without a doubt, that the mysterious men in black were the good guys. The question had always been whether those odd fellows were keeping them prisoner or keeping them safe. Faye’s vote had been that she and the others were prisoners. But now, they knew the mysterious men in black were guardians.

  Still, thought Jasper, as he looked at his friends and his teacher, questions run deep. Why did Suleiman feel he needed the brothers in the first place? What was this thing he needed to guard? More important, what did it have to do with them?

  “But we still do not understand why we are in danger of Komar Romak,” insisted Faye. “What on earth do we have that Komar Romak could want?”

  Wallace turned his coin in his hand, walked over, and placed it on the desk in front of Mr. Bell. “It’s this,” he said, “and the others.”

  Mr. Bell moved slightly back from the coin as if it were a poisonous snake. But it wasn’t fear on his face. It seemed more as if he was simply someone who understood snakes.

  “Please, sir,” demanded Wallace, “tell us what these pieces all mean.”

  Mr. Bell shook his head. “None of us can afford to be fast fools, Master Banneker. Learning must unfold slowly. Otherwise, the dangers are greater than any of us can imagine.”

  “Here? Right now?” asked Lucy, looking around with a shiver.

  “Right now we have a more important mission,” said Noah as the sound of a clock struck the hour. “We must dress for our night at the opera.”

  “And you keep it all in a pile of notes inside of your head?” asked Lucy.

  “Well, yes, Miss Modest,” said Mr. Bell, smiling. “I’ve given you the long, or rather the short, of it. I keep my own writings in a journal here in the library.” He picked up a well-worn diary. “It is true that I have become both the archivist and the historian of the brothers, of Suleiman’s great engine, and, well, of all that we are.” He pointed to a pile of books, some ancient, some simply old, some personal to Mr. Bell, all heavy with the weight of mystery.

  “I have gathered pieces of the story,” he continued, “from complete scrolls and fragments of notes, some from the hands of the inventors, and some from the hand of Suleiman himself. I have, as historian, compiled the pieces into a tale and, as archivist, collected the pieces together here.”

  “Can we see your notes?” asked Faye. “Can we look at the writing?”

  “It is all here for you to peruse, Miss Vigyanveta,” said Mr. Bell.

  “But now, as Mr. Canto-Sagas rightly says, we all must prepare for a very important evening. I will leave this story of the brothers in black at your disposal, along with these other books and all the research I have been able to collect for my archives. You can return to this collection whenever there is time. It is kept here, safe, secret, on this shelf.”

  Mr. Bell first placed the books on a shelf in the very back. Then, very carefully, he took his own notebooks filled with his story and the history of the mysterious men in black, and placed them behind everything else on the subject of Suleiman and this great task. But everyone knew exactly where to find them and they all planned to come back to the tales of Mr. Bell to discern what they had not yet been told.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

  OR

  WHAT THE CURTAINS REVEALED

  Faye was fussy about her shoes. And about her hair, which was on its seventh configuration. And whether her frock was too short and her silver bangles too bangly. And she fussed about the horrid (yet invisible to the naked eye) spot on her chin. She refused to admit why she was fussy or that she selected the blue and purple dress instead of the yellow dress because Jasper liked that shade of blue.

  Jasper had once commented favorably about her sapphire earrings, only one of which she could presently find. There were other options in her jewelry box, but she was determined to find the sapphire ones Jasper liked. She reached into the hidden pocket of her dress and sighed with relief. The missing earring poked her finger. Not that it mattered, she insisted to herself.

  Noah had issues of his own. He was suddenly determined to tame the patch of hair that almost always stood straight up on the top of his head. It had been doing so for months. It had never mattered before. Now it was important. He wet it and rubbed it, tied a kerchief around his head for an hour, even considered asking to borrow a hat from one of the brothers. It was hopeless, so he moved on to something else. He was now busily trying to find a matching sock. Or, in fact, any sock for his left foot.

  “Goodness, something is different,” noted Faye as she passed Noah in the hall. Faye was trying to find a pair of scissors to cut a loose thread and Noah was trying to remember where he put his other shoe, now that he had two reasonably similar socks on his feet. Faye looked him in the face. “It’s your face. I do believe you’ve washed it.”

  “I wash,” insisted Noah, who now found his shoe beneath the urn outside his room, “at least twice a year.” And he closed his door before Faye could say another word.

  Noah’s father, too, was busy primping. He sprayed on what he thought was perfume and then had to dust the powder off his shirt. He had to find someone else to tie his bowtie (luckily, Dr. Tobias Modest was down the hall) and nearly clipped off his entire left eyebrow trying to catch a wild hair. The end result was positive, and both the Canto-Sagas gents were looking dapper.

  Jasper walked behind his sister, grinning as he watched her. Luc
y was walking with arms out, one hand waving, pretending she was a princess greeting her imaginary audience. Her chin was lifted and she nodded left and right as she moved down the hall towards the salon, her gloved hand rigidly raised, a royal smile on her lips.

  “You look beautiful,” cried Lucy, stopping in the doorway as she entered the large salon.

  Jasper was thinking the same thing of Faye. But Lucy ran past Faye into the arms of Miss Brett, who indeed did look beautiful. Her hair was pulled loosely into ringlets on her head. Around the ringlets were weaved flowers that matched her deep green and gold dress.

  “Thank you, sweet angel,” Miss Brett said, kissing the top of Lucy’s hair. “You look absolutely lovely…just like a princess.”

  Lucy beamed up at her teacher. Dr. Banneker and Wallace, two elegant gentlemen, walked together into the salon. Wallace and his father both held their top hats in their hands. Dr. Banneker wore a deep green waistcoat. When he saw Miss Brett’s dress of the same color, they caught each other’s eye and the two of them laughed. Wallace tilted his head, not sure what was so funny.

  Jasper was still paralyzed.

  “Do you like this color?” said Faye to Jasper, who had yet to say a word. “I thought it was a color you liked.” Her face flushed hot.

  Three of the young brothers in black came in carrying trays of tea. One of them leaned over towards Lucy. One small glass of tea sat apart from the others.

  “Helwa?” she asked as the brother nodded. Then, to Miss Brett, she said, “They know I like it sweet.”

  Miss Brett took a glass and a sip. “They are all quite sweet,” she said, taking another sip of the strong sweet tea.

  “But I like it helwa awi—very sweet.” Clearly, Lucy was learning to speak Arabic.