by Sharon Gibbs
As the night became early morning they all retired to their beds, glad for a little sleep before dawn.
The sun shone through Devon’s window and woke him. As he lay there he looked around the room. It was luxurious and he lay in a large four-poster bed. Delicate lace draped from the rails at the top and the bed was adorned with fine linen and an abundance of pillows. The coverlet was embroidered satin and was equivalent to the fine linen Devon enjoyed back home. There was a small fireplace across from the bed and pieces of furniture had been artistically placed around the room. A dresser stood against the wall by the door and brightly patterned rugs were scattered across the floor. Devon rose and walked over to the window. The sun was high in the sky and it was a beautiful day outside. He could hear people as they talked in the street below his window. The village was a hive of activity.
There was a knock on his door and he donned his robe to answer it. At the door a young girl waited. ‘Good mornin’, Sir, me name’s Annie. Would ya be likin’ a bath this morning?’
‘Good morning, Annie. A bath sounds like a great idea after so much travel. Where would I find the bathing room?’
She giggled. ‘Oh, Sir, the boys will bring a tub up so ya can bathe in your room.’
‘Fine,’ Devon said, quite impressed.
Annie turned and walked back down the hallway to organise his bath. Devon watched the swish of her skirts as she walked away and was amazed how happy everyone he met was.
Devon set out his clothes as they were headed to the Keep later that day. As he arranged them on the bed, two boys carried a large tub into his room.
‘Morning, Sir. We’ll bring the water up in a moment. I’m Theo, and he’s Alec,’ the taller lad said. They walked over to the hearth and placed the tub down on the floor. Theo then stoked the ashes. They were cold and he placed some dry grass and sticks in the hearth. On the shelf above he reached for the tinderbox and lit the grass. He blew on the flame until the wood ignited and tended it until it would sustain itself. Alec returned with two buckets of hot water.
‘Go get the rest of the hot water, Annie has the cold,’ Alec said and Theo skedaddled out of the room. ‘How was your travels here, Sir?’ Alec said as he poured the steaming water into the tub.
‘Well it was quite a journey I must admit.’
‘Did you travel through the Barrobourgh forest on your way here? It gets pretty dark through there,’ Alec said and continued to chatter on. ‘Yep sure does and creepy, too.’ He poured the second bucket into the bath, picked up both empty pails and walked out the room.
Devon laughed. Children he thought, always in a rush.
Theo came in with two more buckets as Annie struggled through the door with a bucket of cold water in one hand and an arm of clean linen in the other. She placed the water next to the bath and put the linen towels on the chair near the fire. Theo emptied the buckets into the tub and left. Annie reached into the front pocket of her apron and withdrew a bar of soap. She handed it to Devon. ‘Here ya go, Sir. Some soap to wash away the road,’ she said. ‘Would you like me to pour the cold for ya?’
‘No that’s fine, Annie, I can manage on my own.’ Devon thanked her and as she left the room she closed the door behind her.
Devon adjusted the temperature of his bath. He drew the chair close and placed the soap on top within reach before he undressed and stepped into the tub. Devon sat with care as to not spill the water over the sides. It felt like heaven as the heat seared through his body and the steam rose to freshen his senses. He reclined in the tub and closed his eyes and enjoyed the peace of the morning.
When the water cooled, he stirred and decided to use the soap to wash the grime and sweat from himself. He dipped the soap in the water and he rolled it in his palms to produce sudsy foam. As he washed his face, the smell of sandalwood tingled his senses and he scrubbed his body all over before he finally washed his hair. There was a little cold water left in the bucket and he used this to give his hair a final rinse. The cold water cascaded over his head and down his back and woke him from his peaceful state.
Devon dressed and then headed down stairs to the main room of the inn. Only Zeek was about and Devon walked over to where he dried mugs behind the counter. ‘Good morning,’ Devon said.
‘It’s a fine morning, Devon. Your lad was up early, filled his belly and has gone out to look around the village. I told him not to be gone too long. Now how about something to eat? Breakfast is over but I’m sure June will have something for ya,’ Zeek said. ‘Pull up a seat and I’ll go see what she can rustle up for ya.’
Devon thanked him and sat at a stool along the counter.
The counter top was quite wide. It had been cut from a single piece of wood and had been rubbed and polished until it shone. Behind the counter stood cupboards and shelves with jugs and strange bottles of all shapes and sizes. Small wooden kegs lined the bottom shelves and their dark wood told of the thick substance within. Mugs, tankards and goblets filled the shelves and above, two crossbows hung, one either side of an emblem burnt into the wood of a tree. It wasn’t an ordinary tree that one would expect to see. The branches stretched upwards but they seemed to reach and search and while the trunk was thick and strong, scars criss-crossed its surface. The base of the trunk extended to show the roots, which were tangled and weaved.
Everywhere Devon looked was clean. The place was a credit to its owners and he could tell they poured their heart and soul into this establishment. The floor of the inn was laid with stone, which had been cut flat, and mortar filled the spaces between. The stone had been cleaned and sealed and showed all the colours that it held. There was a rug over by the fireplace and leather armchairs spread out in front of the hearth.
Across the width of the fire a thick wooden shelf had been fixed and it held wooden figurines and strange wrought iron sculptures. A plaque hung above the hearth and burnt into the wood, was a design of the tree the same as the one behind the counter. Wrought iron sconces adorned the walls, their candles melted wax, frozen in time as they sat cold in their sockets and waited for evening to return. There were large windows along the front wall, two sets on each side of the door, which let ample light into the room during the day and thick curtains that could be drawn at night to keep out the cold.
June entered with a tray. ‘Morning,’ she said as she placed it down in front of Devon.
‘Thank you, June. It’s a feast fit for a king. I was just admiring your establishment,’ he said. ‘I can tell you put much love into this place.’
‘Yes, we built this place from the ground up and all our children were born and raised here. It’s our home, not just a place of work,’ she said.
Devon asked her about the design of the tree behind the counter.
‘Well that’s the name of the inn. It’s not so much a name as a meaning. You see, it’s the tree of life.’
Devon was surprised he’d never heard of such a tree before. ‘What do you mean the tree of life?’
‘The tree represents many things. For some it means everlasting life. Once we’re born, we live and we move on to the place where our ancestors now rest. For others it means a binding of worlds—the underworld, the world of life and the heavens that stretch above us. But we believe Mother Earth nourishes the tree. The tree is life and the tree stretches out to the heavens above as we do when we search for meaning in our lives. Life’s a circle and in that circle we live, laugh and learn. We grow, love and cherish, reflect on things that have happened and move forward.
Devon was quite enthralled with this explanation which was new to him. They didn’t have any such beliefs in Reist. You were born, you lived and then you died. He said this to June.
‘Well, Sir, it is exactly the same it just depends how you look at it,’ she said and smiled at him.
Gerard had woken early that morning. He’d bathed and dressed and had gone downstairs to satisfy his hunger. After he’d eaten a quick breakfast he’d headed for the door.
‘Morning, Si
r. Where are you off to this fine morning?’ Zeek knew enough about young boys to know Gerard would be eager to look around the village.
‘Good morning, Zeek. I was just off to have a look around before we head up to the Keep,’ he said.
‘Well you’ll probably run into Gustov out there and I’m sure he could show you around. Mind you don’t be too long, or your father will be worried,’ Zeek said.
‘I won’t be. See you soon,’ Gerard said and headed out the door.
Outside the inn the sun shone and Gerard enjoyed the warmth after the few wet days they’d endured. He crossed the street and headed up the road. When he reached the end, he turned and headed towards the marketplace. People were out early to buy what they needed for the day. The market had all sorts of goods to buy from apples and carrots to bread and meats. If milk or cream was what you wanted, you had to be early as the sun came out and it didn’t take long to spoil. Further along there were cobbler shops and tailors who hawked their fine materials to be made into clothes. He saw two women, one spinning wool while the other sat weaving at a large loom. As he looked across the market place he spied Gustov as he talked to some men. He crossed the road and walked over to where they stood.
‘Morning, Gustov,’ he said. Gustov heard his voice and turned in his direction.
‘Mornin’, Sir. You’re up fine and early.’
‘I thought I’d take a look around, seeing how I’ll be staying here for a while.’
‘I’ll take you for a tour if you like,’ Gustov said. He turned to his companions and bid them a good day.
The two of them set off up the street and Gustov pointed out places that might interest the young lad. After they’d toured the market they went down a road which led out of the village. They came to a small house, its white washed walls and thatched roof made it stand out amongst the houses in the street. A woman swept the paths out front and she waved to them as they drew near. ‘This house is where the villagers come to be treated by the Healers. If somethin’ ails them, they can come anytime of the day, except on the Solstice. If someone is sick at night the healers travel to their house or they go up to the Keep, just dependin’ on how sick they are. They also sell lotions and potions that people may need for everyday ails.’
They continued down the street until they came to another group of houses. One in particular was larger than the others and Gustov pointed it out. ‘An that one there is the school for girls and boys ta learn their readin’ and cipherin’.’ At the edge of the village the road veered out into the countryside. ‘This road leads to the mill. The farmers take their grain to be ground into flour and then sell it to the stores that sell all sorts of things like salt, n sugar, they even take it to the towns.’
They turned around and headed back into the village. Horses pulled carts stacked with sacks of grain past them, on their way to the mill. They waved to the drivers as they passed. It was a peaceful walk and they watched the people as they worked in their gardens.
Back in the marketplace, Gustov showed Gerard where the blacksmith lived and worked and he was able to look at some of the fine work he’d crafted. Swords, knives and shields were made for the small garrison of the village. He made axes and chisels and all sorts of tools for the carpenters and stonemasons.
Most people only went to the towns if they wanted to trade, sell or buy things that weren’t made in the village.
Gerard was quite enthralled with the variety of goods and foods that the village sold, from cakes and spicy sausages to gold rings and fine candles. As they made their way back to the inn they passed the clock maker’s and further along there was another inn called the Black Sparrow. There was a small library and the village hall where social events would be held.
Gerard and Gustov walked into the inn and Gerard went to sit with his father. ‘Well how was the village, son? Did you get a good look around?’
‘Yes, Gustov took me for a walk and showed me where the village school was and many of the shops. I think I will be fine here, father.’
‘Good.’ Devon was happy. His son would be fine here, he just knew he would. ‘Well you better pack up your things, we need to leave for the Keep.’
Gerard left the main room of the inn and went upstairs to pack. He returned twenty minutes later excited and ready to leave.
‘I’ll collect Gerard’s luggage, Mr. Antrobus,’ Gustov said as he headed for the stairs. ‘We’ll be ready to head up to the Keep as soon as I’m done.’
Gerard said goodbye to Zeek and June.
‘Good luck, Gerard,’ Zeek said as he shook Gerard’s hand. ‘I’m sure we’ll see you around the village.’
‘Pop in and say hello when you can,’ June said.
They climbed into the carriage and waved goodbye and then they were off, on the final leg of their journey to the Keep.
They passed through the village and out into the countryside. The Keep wasn’t far away and could easily be reached on foot. On their way they travelled through the Keep’s orchards where rows of apple, plum and peach trees grew. Further along woods extended out to their left and on their right fields of cotton grew. The carriage rambled along the road until they came to a stone wall where the road veered off towards the mountain. As the carriage made its way up the mountain slopes they passed through the gates to the common. Inside the walls was another smaller village with houses dotted here and there, and the people were out in their gardens while their children played. Through the common they continued on up the road as it wound its way up the mountain towards the plateau and although the way was steep it was still walkable. Through the carriage window Gerard and Devon could see the monstrous building as it towered above them. It wasn’t much further before they passed through another set of gates and into the gardens.
They were amazed at the size of the Keep. Its regal towers rose up towards the sky and the many windows overlooked the gardens they passed through. They were both in awe as they travelled through the yard that led up to the entrance. There were wide expanses of lawn surrounded with garden beds and hedges had been planted here and there to give privacy to those who wanted to be alone. Men and boys walked around the grounds in groups or on their own. They wore simple linen trousers with loose cotton shirts and Gerard felt overdressed. The younger boys ran around as they played some kind of game, while others sat in the shade of a tree and read.
Upon the stairs a man in a long grey cloak stood and waited for their arrival. He’d been told a carriage approached and as they were expected he’d gone down to greet them.
The man in the cloak was none other than Hierarch Jacob. He was the senior Wizard chosen to lead all at the Keep. He waited patiently as the carriage approached and pulled to a halt in front of him. Gustov climbed down from the carriage and opened the door for Devon and Gerard. They stepped out into the bright sunlight and the Hierarch walked down the steps to greet them.
‘Welcome Lord Antrobus and Master Gerard,’ he said as he shook Devon’s hand. ‘We’ve looked forward to your arrival.’
‘Thank you,’ Devon said.
‘Good morning,’ Gerard said as he also shook the Hierarch’s hand.
Gustov nearly fell to his knees. A Lord...he hadn’t known, he’d thought they were well to do folk from across the seas. He bowed in their presence. ‘Forgive me, Sir, oh I mean me Lord. I hadn’t known of ya royalty.’
‘There’s no need for that, Gustov. I’m no Lord here, merely a father seeing off his son and besides I thought we were friends,’ Devon said.
‘Gustov, please get the lad’s bags and Samuel will take them to his quarters,’ the Hierarch said and Gustov hurried to do as he was instructed.
The Hierarch looked at Gerard with a strange smile on his face and spread his arms wide. He looked like an eagle about to take flight as he said, ‘Gerard Antrobus. Welcome to the Keep!’
Chapter Five
Brother Astern traversed the corridors of the Keep. He was headed to the reading rooms for his first classes of the day. A
s he pulled his cloak tighter to ward off the cold he belched to release the discomfort his breakfast had caused. First he needed to check the rooms where the Prophecy Books were kept, to make sure all was prepared for the morning’s lessons.
The room that held the Prophecy Books was located underground, deep in the Keep. The area where he was headed was out of bounds to all young Wizards. This was a private place where only certain scholars could come. Only when they were in their tenth year at the Keep were students allowed in the Prophecy rooms and that was only as long as the Wizards were in attendance.
He left the main building and worked his way down through the passages and stairwells to where the books waited. The halls were dark and torches on the walls burst to life as he neared to light his way. Brother Astern passed through the Wizard’s screen. It recognised his magic and allowed his passage. The Wizard’s screen looked identical to any other part of the wall but it had been impregnated with a spell of detection. The detection spell did exactly that. Unless the magic of the person was recognised it would trip an alarm in the Keep to alert the Wizards of a person or persons in an area where they shouldn’t venture. It was for the safety of the Prophecy Books and the person who read them. If untrained eyes should fall upon the books, the ramifications could be disastrous.
Prophecy was complicated. Just because one read the words didn’t mean they were enlightened about all the information they contained. One prophecy could mean several different things or needed to be read in conjunction with other prophecies to be properly interpreted. The books weren’t to be touched by just anyone. Only those assigned to the task of deciphering the prophecies were allowed to read the books.
Brother Astern walked up to an old steel door and from his pocket he removed a single key. It had worn smooth over the years and each notch no longer held the sharp edge it once had. At the end was a loop to hold onto and in this loop, moulded out of the same metal as the key, was an insignia of the tree of life. He slid it into the lock and turned the key. The bolt slid back and he turned the handle. As Brother Astern entered the room, the torches mounted on the walls burst to life as they recognised his magic.
