Miss Brett showed the children the book’s illustrations. “This is a story about good people overcoming bad things thrust upon them,” she started. “It’s the story of a kingdom long ago.”
Just before dawn, Jasper woke suddenly. Loud noises, shouts, and the crashing and clanging of bells filled the air. The noise jolted Wallace out of his sleep. Noah jumped up and fell out of bed, Jasper ran into Lucy’s room. She was still asleep. Miss Brett, Faye, Noah, and Jasper nearly collided in the hallway
“What was that?” Noah asked sleepily, rubbing his elbow where it hit the floor. “Is the house on fire?”
“Don’t even joke about that, you fool,” Faye growled, sniffing around for smoke.
“No, look. Down there.” Wallace pointed down, past the village walls, into the field. There was a fire blazing through the mist, reflecting brightness from the white all around. There were people running and shouting.
“It’s the post carriage!” Jasper could see more clearly as the rising sun lightened the sky. The yellow post carriage had smoke billowing out of its back door. But the danger seemed to have passed. The flames had died down. The continuous buckets of water from the villagers did the job.
“Should we go down to help?” asked Wallace as he adjusted his glasses.
“I think we’d just be in the way now,” Miss Brett said, honestly. “It looks like the fire is out. I don’t see what we could do.”
“I don’t get it.” Noah scratched his head. “Did it explode? What could make it do that? Wasn’t it emptied in the afternoon? There was nothing in it that could catch fire.”
“It was emptied,” Jasper said. “Signora Maggio went down to look for Signora Fornaio’s package. I wonder if she got it.”
“I don’t think it came,” Miss Brett said. “She told me that when she came by to ask about Lucy’s cake.” Signora Fornaio had stopped by just a short while after supper
“Well, there must have been something in the carriage that caught fire,” said Wallace.
“Or someone lit it on fire,” Faye said, darkly. “Someone who is trying to find us.”
“Why?!” Wallace blurted, fixing his glasses, which were slightly askew. “It can’t be him.”
“Could it?” Jasper looked at Miss Brett.
“I just don’t know,” she said.
Back in America, there had seemed to be a reason Komar Romak was after them: the aeroplane. But why was this terrible man coming after them now? True, he had come after them in that contraption when they were on the train to New York. Then in the middle of the ocean—had that been him again? And in the mountains on the way to Solemano? Was he the reason they had been forced to hide in the cave? No one gave them a straight answer. No one ever did. But it did seem as if Komar Romak could be anywhere at any time.
“It was probably just a tipped-over oil lamp,” Miss Brett said, herding the children back into their rooms. “Let’s try to get some sleep, all of us.”
“Sleep?” Faye could not think of it. “I want to know what happened.”
“It’s foolish to go out in the freezing cold to see why the mail carriage caught on fire,” said Noah. “Only a fool would even think of doing that.”
“That’s you, then,” said Faye. “I didn’t say we should go out. There has to be one of those men in black around here.”
“Sweet angel,” Miss Brett said kindly, “let’s try to rest, and we will certainly learn what happened in the morning.”
“It’s already morning,” grumbled Faye, who happened to be right.
“Well, try” Miss Brett urged. “For another hour or so. It’s just now breaking dawn.”
But Faye felt that she could not rest until she learned some answers. Maybe it was just a lamp tipping over. That happened all the time. And weren’t the mysterious men in black there to guard them? But why, then, did she feel as though they were in as much danger as before, or more?
Jasper could see it on Faye’s face. Something was wrong and they did not know what it was.
“Let’s all just try,” Miss Brett said.
And with that, they all headed back to their beds, where all but sleepy Lucy and snoring Noah lay with eyes open until the sun broke through the morning mist.
Signora Fornaio was as mystified as the children about the events of the early morning and did not know how the fire had started. Miss Brett and Faye discussed it with her later in the day, having come down to help bake Lucy’s cake. They shared a cup of tea and some biscuits and talked about the fire. After they circled around the events several times, coming up with no answer, Signora Fornaio declared, “Now, we bake.”
It was an interesting afternoon. Faye soon became overly excited by everything, going into detail about raw eggs versus cooked eggs and how the heat affects the physiology of the egg. She explained the chemistry of baking powder, the effects of shortening on flour, and loads of other things that were either completely ignored by or totally lost on her audience. Signora Fornaio could not have understood a single word Faye had to say about egg albumin or bicarbonate of soda. Miss Brett didn’t understand the science, but she understood why Faye was rambling on like that. This was Faye, worried about the fire and worried about danger. And this was also Faye’s way of tackling something she could not do. Faye was brilliant, yes—but she was not a baker.
“Faye,” Miss Brett said kindly, cutting the girl off mid-sentence, “we are so pleased that you are with us here, but you need to be firm when you cream the icing. Watch.” Miss Brett took the spoon that Faye had been poorly using, and showed her how to put some muscle into smoothing out the lumps of butter and sugar floating in the cream. Faye’s face reddened, and she took the spoon in silence. She wrenched the chunk butter from the sugar so hard, a large glop of icing flew in the air, hitting Signora Fornaio right between the eyes.
Faye gasped. She was mortified. But Signora Fornaio crossed her eyes and saw the icing slide down her face. She licked it off as it came to rest on the tip of her nose, laughing all the while. Faye could not help but laugh, too. She thought of all the servants at her home in Delhi. Did they have this much fun together in the kitchen?
“I am so happy you distract the worry, Faye. You make me have so many laughs.” Signora Fornaio giggled, finally catching her breath. “Only our little pastore, our little shepherd, can do worse. He’s always knocking everything down when he helps. How so little a man can make so big the problems, how he can knock down boxes from the high shelves, I do not know. Every one of them falling open on the floor.” She laughed again. Faye’s face burned. She felt sorry for the little old shepherd, but she did not want to be compared to him in clumsiness.
After several attempts to find something Faye could do without causing damage to the kitchen or those in it, they discovered she was excellent at using the mortar and pestle to grind the almonds for marzipan. They put her to work until her hands were red from grinding, but Faye felt she was able to prove herself in the kitchen, even if the job was just like something she had done many times in her father’s laboratory.
Later in the morning, Miss Brett and Faye returned to the house to let Signora Fornaio put the final touches on the cake (and to remove Faye from the kitchen), and to help the boys distract Lucy so they could decorate the dining room for the party. On the way, however, they came across a sad discovery
“There’s something wrong with that raven,” said Faye. The bird was leaning over on an opened wing. Miss Brett went over to it. The bird’s eyes stared blindly, frozen open where it lay Another bird was near it, also beyond help.
“They look as though they’re sleeping,” Faye said. Farther along the path, they discovered three furry bunnies. The bunnies were dead.
“They look so sweet,” said Miss Brett.
“Do you think they starved?” Faye asked.
But the bunnies’ fur was thick and fluffy, not ragged, as it would have been had they been malnourished. And the ravens were well-fed, too. Miss Brett had noticed the remnants of the bu
ndle they had left on the path. These birds and bunnies had likely eaten it.
“Most certainly not.” Miss Brett looked closely “They may have frozen in the night. It was quite cold last night and they may have gotten stuck outside. Perhaps there was a sudden drop in the temperature.”
“Well, I am so glad Lucy didn’t come with us,” Faye said.
Miss Brett picked up the cold little furry creatures. “Let’s get them off the path so Lucy doesn’t have to know.”
Faye picked up the birds in her mittened hands. She had complained about the curious birds, but it was so sad to see them like this. She followed Miss Brett, and they carried the animals to the far edge of the road, by a stand of trees.
“We can’t bury them in the frozen ground,” Miss Brett said. “But we can leave them out of Lucy’s way and bury them under the snow.” The soft snow made light of their grim burden.
When they finally came to the gardens, Miss Brett and Faye found Lucy sitting with a whole collection of snow people,
“Jasper said it’s my birthday and I can make as many snow people as I want,” Lucy said as she put a tiny head on yet another tiny snowman.
Miss Brett motioned to Faye. “Hey, Lucy,” Faye said, “can I make some little snowmen with you?”
“No,” said Lucy. “But you can make some snow birds and snow puppy dogs.”
“Maybe we can make some more over on the other side of the garden, too,” Faye said, pointing toward the wall of the garden that would keep the soon-arriving Signora Fornaio out of sight,
“I was making some snow birds for Mr. Corvino,” said Lucy, looking up into the sky, “but he hasn’t come over to play yet this morning. He must be busy in his own garden.”
Faye thought of the birds and the bunnies. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said, not sure at all, “but we can make some friends for him anyway.”
So the girls stayed outside and made snow birds and snow dogs and snow people, some snow horses, and a few snow sheep. Faye made a snow shepherd to stand by the snow sheep. It made her think of the little old shepherd, whom she hoped Signora Fornaio would bring to Lucy’s surprise party.
“Surprise!” they all shouted. Lucy’s wide-open mouth quickly turned into a very big smile. There, in the dining room, were the most beautiful decorations. There were paper angels and little candles. The mysterious men in black had made tiny fairies with wings made of lace. Faye looked at the fairies closely. Such delicate work, such care. This surprised her as much as anything she had seen them do. There must have been a hundred of them all over the room. There were paper flowers, and a table set for a queen. Lucy was in heaven.
“Wait until you see the cake,” Noah whispered in her ear as both of them reached for the tiny finger sandwiches, Lucy’s favorite. She saw Signora Fornaio beaming at her, but the little old shepherd had not been able to make it. Lucy reminded herself to save a piece of cake for him. And one for Mr. Corvino the raven.
“Sahha!” called out Signora Fornaio, and everyone offered the same cheer.
While the children celebrated, Miss Brett approached the man in the frilly apron. “I’d like to know about the postal carriage,” she said softly
“Fire burn,” he said, refilling the plates with miniature brioches and petits fours.
“I know it burned,” she said, a bit short. “The alarm woke us in the night. I want to know if it was an accident, or if it was . . . if it was him.”
“They maybe,” he said.
“Maybe?”
“It could only be, perhaps,” he said.
“Are we safe?” She was certain this conversation would not go well.
“For our lives,” he said, walking back into the kitchen with the empty tray
Holding the kitchen door open for Signora Fornaio, the frilly apron man retreated when the cake came out,
“Eight candles,” Noah said. “Seven, plus one for good luck.”
Lucy held her breath and wished with all her might. Please, she wished, please let it be so for Christmas. And then she blew.
“I hope she wished for Komar Romak to disappear,” whispered Noah to Jasper.
“No wish is going to make him go away,” Faye whispered over Jasper’s other shoulder. “It would be like trying to protect mice from an invisible cat.”
After Lucy’s birthday passed, thoughts turned to finding a tree for Christmas. Wallace wanted to stay back and work with his magnets, so Lucy, Faye, and Jasper went with Noah, more for the adventure than for the expectation of actually finding and felling a tree on their first outing. Any tree they might find would have to be quite small, for they had only one small axe, one shovel, and one trowel to dig away the snow—hardly the tools of professional woodsmen.
“In England, people sometimes have small trees in their rooms,” Jasper said. “Or at least that’s the way it was when Queen Victoria was young.”
“Actually, she had one in her room, but nobody else did,” said Lucy. “But it would be lovely to have a little tree in my room.”
“I do not fancy cutting down six trees,” Jasper said.
“What do you mean, ‘cut down’?” asked Lucy, mortified. “I only want to bring them in for Christmas. Then we can set them free back in the forest.”
Jasper and the others looked at each other “Um, Lucy . . .” But Jasper did not want to be first. Faye put her hand on Jasper’s arm and nodded.
“Lucy, we need to explain something,” said Faye.
The conversation went on as the children trudged through the snow, into the small wooded area next to the village. There were more fir trees than they could count, and because the trees grew fast, cutting them was necessary. But there was no explaining that to Lucy,
“But what if a bird is living in it and has built a little nest?” she said, anxiously. “Oh, we mustn’t take down the home of a little bird family.”
“We won’t take a bird’s home,” said Noah quickly. “But they’ll all be living in tenements if we don’t clear a bit of space for them.” He smiled at Lucy, who seemed reluctant to understand what everyone else was saying,
“In theory, and in fact, Lucy, we are helping the forest,” said Jasper.
But Lucy began to cry every time they selected a tree. Faye was anxious that they might run into dead birds and bunnies, so she kept directing them away from the road. Finally, Lucy allowed them to dig up a tiny tree that she carried all the way back and planted in a little pot, for the earth was still frozen and it couldn’t be planted in the ground. It was quietly decided that Faye, Jasper and Noah would go without Lucy and find the perfect tree sometime the following week. Lucy and Wallace could work on making bigger rare earth magnets or building more snow creatures.
As they trudged out of the forest, they heard a loud chopping, They could not see anything from where they were,
“Is it a snowman?” asked Lucy, looking around.
“Why would a snowman make that sound, Lucy?” Noah tried to keep a straight face. “Why would a snowman be out here making any sound?”
“A snowman is only out in the snow,” Lucy said. “He wouldn’t make that sound if he wasn’t.”
Noah looked cross-eyed at Jasper, who stifled a laugh. But as they continued walking, the sound got louder.
“It must have scared the birds away,” Lucy said. She had not seen a single raven.
What was it? What could be making that sound? As they climbed over a snowdrift, they discovered what the sound was, and who was making it. And it was not a snowman.
The children came across four mysterious men in black. They had felled a large fir, and were about to fell an even grander one. They watched as the majestic tree began to lean.
“Oh, please come back as a beautiful swan,” said Lucy, closing her wet eyes.
The others simply looked at one another for a moment before looking back at the great falling tree.
“Why don’t we head over there?” said Jasper, pointing away from the tree-cutters. “Is that Mr. Corvino
I hear?”
Lucy jumped up and down and ran in the direction Jasper pointed. Without a word, Noah and Faye knew they were saving Lucy from having to wish any more trees into another existence.
Lucy named her tree Bertram. It was a tiny red juniper with tiny red berries clinging to its tiny branches. She made the tree a little bed of stones and tinsel. She kept a small tin cup of dirt inside to warm it for the tree. “When I feed sweet little Bertram, I’m sure he’d be happy if his dirt was lovely and warm. Then it will be like warm crumpets or hot chocolate.” She sewed some small pieces of fabric into a small cloth she called “wee Bertram’s blankie” and surrounded the pot with little pine cones she had collected around the front steps. “So he doesn’t feel lonely when I’m not with him, the little darling.” Lucy was worried that they had taken the tree away from his mummy. When they made the wreath to put on the door of the house, Lucy made a tiny wreath for Bertram out of paper and green ribbon.
It was almost Christmas. Christmas brought with it thoughts of family. Those thoughts weighed heavy on the Young Inventors Guild. For Lucy, it weighed heavy on Bertram as well.
“Oh, my! It’s lovely!” squealed Lucy, She quickly covered her mouth with her hands. She didn’t want to wake the others. She didn’t want them to think she was a baby.
Lucy had woken early that morning. It was almost Christmas and she had been waking earlier each morning since her birthday. She was excited about Christmas, but sometimes bad dreams woke her early. She’d wake in the morning with her fingers nearly bleeding from chewing her nails. She took special care to hide them from Jasper.
But that morning, there were no bad dreams. She woke and was certain she could smell Christmas in the air. And she was right. Christmas was standing, right there, by the sitting room window. It was thirty feet tall, and when Lucy came down the stairs, she stopped in her tracks. Mingled with the smell of jasmine was the smell of Christmas pine. Right there in the large bay window was a beautiful Christmas tree, the biggest Lucy had ever seen.
The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black Page 23
