There were tiny candleholders from top to bottom, attached to almost every branch, but the decorating had only just begun. On the rug by the hearth, there were baskets of pine cones and tinsel and nuts. There were boxes scattered throughout the room containing mysteries ready to be solved. Lucy ran down the stairs once she could get her feet moving.
“It is lovely,” said a voice from the big comfy chair. Lucy turned to find Wallace. Wallace had been up since dawn. Like Lucy, he had been getting up early these pre-Christmas mornings. Like Lucy, his dreams had often kept him awake.
“You startled me, Wallace,” Lucy said, her hand on her heart.
“Sorry,” Wallace said.
“What’s in the boxes?” asked Lucy.
Wallace’s face flushed. He had peeked into the boxes, but felt a bit guilty for doing so. “Um, well, it looks to be a grand selection of tree trimmings.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” Lucy ran over to the boxes and pulled open the first one she touched. From the paper wrapping it, she took a lovely, hand-carved horse. It was very small and fit into the palm of her hand, but it was so intricately cut, she could see the lashes upon its eyelids and a little smile upon its lips.
Inside the box were more animals—camels, reindeer, sheep, goats, dogs, cats, and even a boar and a beaver. Lucy set them up on the floor and began to play with them. Wallace reached into another box and found tiny carved mice, but mice dressed like peo-ple—as farmers, knights, princesses, and clowns. Lucy and Wallace began to play with the animals and the mice-people. Each of these creatures had a little looped ribbon tied to the tops of their heads. They were ornaments for the tree.
“Well, it certainly did arrive.” Miss Brett descended the stairs, thrilled to see the children happily playing with the tree trimmings. She had asked the mysterious men in black about having a Christmas tree delivered.
“Always twenty-three,” the frilly apron man had said.
“Twenty-three Christmas trees?” Miss Brett was struck by the idea of this strange tradition.
“Twenty-three it will be,” said the man in the large beret. “It is always the way.”
Miss Brett opened her mouth, then waited to see if she’d be able to arrange this information so that it made sense. Aha, she thought. “So the tree will arrive 23 December?”
“It is so,” the frilly apron man had said, as the other men nodded.
“I’d like to have trimmings, too,” Miss Brett said. “Candles, braids of berries and glass, tinsel, and—”
“We have trim,” said the floppy-hatted man. “We have the hands we make.”
Miss Brett nodded, though she was not sure what he meant. She was sure that she and the children would be able to make some trimmings if the men did not bring enough festive things to brighten the tree.
But as Miss Brett stood there, watching Lucy and Wallace, she found her heart pounding with pleasure. The trimmings appeared to be as beautiful as any she had ever seen. She bent and picked up a tiny wooden mouse, no bigger than a real mouse, dressed like a princess in a gown. Every detail had been carved, including the sparkle in the princess’s eye, and the gown was made of the finest silks. Whoever made this ornament was a master craftsman.
“Will you look at that!” Noah was now coming down the stairs, followed by Faye and Jasper.
Within moments, the boxes were all opened, and the trimmings were finding their way onto the tree. Jasper showed Faye how to make pine cone stars and string them with ribbon. Noah was busy making funny scenes with various ornaments he pulled from boxes. He had a glass raven sitting on the head of a wooden rocking horse. He managed to take a small wrapped present for Faye and hang it upside-down, a small lace angel sitting upon it.
“Noah,” Miss Brett gently scolded. Noah smiled, but left the arrangements as they were.
In one box, there were long strings of colored glass. There were also balls of thread, and Miss Brett went into the kitchen to get a bowl of red juniper berries the children could string along the thread. In another box, she found a collection of very fragile ancient flowers made of silk and paper. She recognized these from stories she had heard of the earliest Christmas trees in Bremen, Germany, back in the sixteenth century. She also found a smaller box, inside one filled with tinsel, that was made of wood. This box contained an odd selection of small crosses and small wooden squares painted in red and white, or black and white, and seemed familiar. She had seen these designs before.
“Look,” said Faye, carrying a large plate piled high with beautiful marzipan biscuits. Each was shaped like a tree or snowflake, or a little angel. And each had a small wire through the top so it could be hung on the tree.
“Oh, may we eat them?” asked Lucy, who found she was suddenly very hungry.
“I think these are for the tree,” said Faye. “But there appear to be some lovely butter biscuits with marzipan stars coming out of the oven now.” Faye tried discreetly to wipe the crumbs from her lips and her pinafore.
Miss Brett watched as the children, taking a break from their decorating, went into the dining room. She quickly ran upstairs to collect an armful of wrapped gifts that she brought back down to place beneath the tree. She then joined the children and found beautiful iced cakes and butter biscuits covering the whole table. There were biscotti, with almonds and chocolate, and caggionetti, filled with cinnamon sugar. There were pasticiotti so light and fluffy that the sweet treats melted on the tongue. There were loaves of hot bread coming out of the oven, butter melting on slices Miss Brett held in her hand. She reached into her apron pocket to take out a cloth, and found she had accidentally brought one of the little black and white ornaments to the table,
“Look, it’s the flag,” said Lucy, pointing to the ornament.
Miss Brett suddenly remembered where she had seen those designs. “Of course,” she said aloud. “The flags on the ship.”
“Of course,” said Noah.
“Would you put this on the tree, Lucy?” asked Miss Brett, handing the ornament to Lucy, “I’ll break it if I carry it around, and it looks old and fragile.”
As the frilly apron man entered the room carrying a plate of hot crumpets, Lucy lifted up the little flag. “Is this your flag, Mr. Frilly Apron?” she asked. “It’s lovely.”
The frilly apron man set the plate on the table, stood suddenly very still, and placed his hand over his heart. He bowed his head, mumbled something, then left the room.
“I suppose that’s his way of saying yes,” said Noah, who was much more interested in the biscotti than the wooden flag.
“Perhaps he misses his mummy,” said Lucy, staring at the flag. “perhaps his mummy is back where the flag is and he misses her because it’s Christmas and he won’t get to see her and have Christmas dinner with her or his daddy”
“I don’t think he was sad.” Miss Brett placed some irresistible pasticiotti on Lucy’s plate. “I think he was remembering. Perhaps the flag is from somewhere far away, and he was showing his faith and respect. Sometimes people see flags as a thing to honor, as if it was the very place itself.”
“But Mummy doesn’t have a flag and Bertram the tree is lonely without his mummy and daddy and . . . and I’m sad about Christmas,” said Lucy, tears welling in her eyes. “Jasper, where is Mummy? Why can’t we have a bit of a rest from being afraid and hiding in caves and have Christmas with our families, too?”
Even Noah put down his crumpet. The man in the floppy hat came in at that moment and stopped when he saw the silence around the table.
“Oh, please, can’t we have our mummies and daddies for Christmas?” said Lucy to the man. “I don’t mind if I have no other presents. I only want to be with Mummy and Daddy and . . . and . . .” But she broke into sobs.
“Don’t cry, Lucy,” Jasper said gently. Faye and Noah, too, came to comfort her. Wallace tried to keep his own eyes from tearing, and Miss Brett reached out and the five children came to her. She held her arms wide so she could embrace them all.
“Plea
se let our mummies and daddies come for Christmas!” Lucy cried again.
No one heard what the man in the floppy hat said before he placed the plate of oranges on the table and turned to go back to the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” Faye demanded for the tenth time. But there really was no answer other than “down” or “across” or “yes” or “not.” She considered refusing to go any further, but the indignity of having one of them pick her up and carry her like a sack of potatoes kept her from standing still,
Christmas Eve had been a series of odd events. Everyone had been discussing what they might possibly be having for Christmas Eve dinner. The children’s families had different traditions, if they had any at all,
“We always have our big feast on Christmas Eve,” said Noah. “When mother is in town and we actually celebrate.”
Miss Brett had been making notes and reminding herself of recipes all morning. She assumed the mysterious men in black would be there cooking when she headed down to help in the kitchen. It was odd that there were no smells of turkeys or roasts or apple pies, She went to the pantry for her apron and was surprised to find the kitchen dark and the ovens cold. Might they be cooking elsewhere?
She rehung her apron and joined the children, who were assembled together at the front door. Then, as they lit the last candle on the wreath, Miss Brett turned around and was startled to find Robin Hood suddenly behind her. In the odd way of the mysterious men in black, he told her to be sure the children dressed warmly.
“I was going to set the table for Christmas Eve dinner,” she had said.
“No setting,” she was told.
“Why?” she asked, not willing to allow the children to miss Christmas Eve. “Are we going somewhere? Is there a plan for Christmas Eve? Where will we be taken?”
The answer was simply, “Yes,” and she was left to prepare for whatever was in store for them. It being Christmas Eve Day, she and the children were all dressed in their nicest frocks and trousers, coats, and shirts. Miss Brett had hoped that, whatever was going to happen, they would have some celebration of the holiday. They pulled the warm woolies from the cupboard under the stairs. There were three fur muffs for Lucy, Faye, and herself, and warm, woolen gloves for the boys. The snow had fallen early in the day, but by the late afternoon, the mysterious men in black had shoveled a path and no more snow fell upon it. The walk into town would be easy, if that was where they were going.
It was not yet getting dark when the children and Miss Brett headed out into the cold, led by two of the mysterious men in black who had suddenly arrived at the door. One was tall in a wide-brimmed hat, and the other was thin and wore a beret. “Robin Hood” must have gone somewhere else.
“I’d much rather stay by the fire,” said Wallace with a shiver. The others felt the same. Why were they heading off into the cold outdoors instead of having a lovely, comfortable Christmas Eve at the palazzo? Miss Brett could not answer this question, but hoped the answer would be worth the journey.
They headed down the road toward the village. Signora Fornaio’s bakery was dark. No fabulous smells came to them along the road, and there was no stray raven drinking from an empty saucer. They all hoped that the baker was with the little old shepherd, or someone who would share the holiday with her. Miss Brett silently hoped, too, that the package from Signora Fornaio’s son had finally arrived from the United States, and that a new postal carriage had brought it to her before the holiday.
But there were no signs of anyone. The whole village seemed to be closed up. Miss Brett decided everyone must be with their families. This made her feel sad for the children, who were not to be with their own.
“Mr. Corvino must be away for the holiday,” said Lucy, looking up at the empty sky.
They walked in silence for several minutes, right through the center of the village, then down toward the fields, now vast beds of white. They followed the men in black as they turned from the road onto the small path that led to the tiny ruined chapel.
“This is getting even stranger,” Noah said through his warm balaclava. “I hope we’re not expected to sit in a frozen ruin for Christmas Eve.”
But from the looks of it, this was exactly where they were headed. The man in the wide-brimmed hat pulled open the creaky, broken gate. He stood, waiting for the others to enter. Reluctantly, they did. Luckily, there was a path into the chapel, so they would not have to trudge through the deep snow surrounding the place,
They followed the man in the wide-brimmed hat, stepping over the crumbled threshold as he did, stepping around a hole in the floor as he did, bending to get through the arched doorway as he did. The beautiful vaulted ceiling was still there in some places, but much of the roof was gone, and in the gaps they could see the sky above. Snow filled the scattered pews, and drifts and wafts of snow were in the recesses and the rafters above, one of which was broken. A single raven sat on the broken rafter, chattering like falling stones. Still visible in the main room were frescos painted on the walls. The frescos depicted scenes in fields, with friars or monks dressed in black cloaks. Interestingly, Jasper could swear that some of the monks wore strange hats. Perhaps it was just the cracks in the walls that made the monks appear that way.
“Look at that,” whispered Faye.
Jasper looked at one of the paintings and saw a group of monks, their heads bent, standing around a flag of white and red, as well as a flag of black and white.
“Recognize the flags?” said Faye, knowingly.
Jasper did recognize the flags. There was damage to the wall, but he could see, clearly, a man standing next to them. He had a close-cropped beard and a huge white head-dress.
“He must be their leader,” said Noah.
“Maybe he’s a bishop or something. This is a chapel, after all, and those are monks,” said Faye.
Faye made sense, Jasper thought.
The raven in the rafters let out a screech. Jasper looked from the fresco and realized that he, Noah, and Faye were standing alone in the snow-filled chapel.
“Where did they go?” Jasper tried to keep a note of panic from his voice.
“They were just here,” said Noah, looking around everywhere.
“Lucy!” Jasper called, his voice strangely muffled by the snow, his throat suddenly tight.
“Yes, Jasper?” Lucy said, her head popping out from a door Jasper hadn’t seen.
“Oh—I just thought you might like to see the painting,” he said sheepishly. He didn’t want her to think he was worried.
“Well, don’t dawdle,” she scolded. “Come along, you three.”
They quickly followed her through the archway
The man in the black beret led them from the main room into a side room. It must have been the vestry, for the remains of an ancient robe still hung on a hook against the wall. There were other hooks that were bare. Jasper, Noah, and Faye followed Lucy up to what seemed to be a blank wall with a long crack from the broken ceiling to the crumbling floor. Lucy pushed against it, and it turned.
“I had to come back for you,” Lucy said, again sounding very bossy. Jasper looked at Noah, who simply raised his eyebrows. Faye looked cross, until she really thought about the absurdity of Lucy scolding them for messing about.
“Sorry, Lucy,” Jasper said, trying not to laugh.
“Well,” the tiny girl said, “don’t let it happen again.”
They next found themselves in a small room that once must have been the scriptorium—the room in medieval times where monks would write. There were still a couple of broken tables scattered around the room, and a small alcove in the back. There had been frescos painted from floor to ceiling, but now they were too faded really to see. Very faint, though, was the blue that may have been a sky, and some chips of green and gold. Dead vines and bramble were stuck all over the opening, but there was a cleared space at the center. The mysterious men in black led the children through this opening.
“We’re not all going to fit in there,” Wall
ace said as the men entered the little space.
First, Noah headed in and, looking around, found he was alone, Looking carefully in the dying light, he saw that against one wall was a large crack. He peeked over and saw light coming from inside. Because there was no other option, he stepped into the crack and, to the others, simply disappeared. Faye, then Jasper, entered and followed him.
When Miss Brett entered the alcove, Wallace and Lucy clung to her hand. She held them tight, as a sudden fear filled her heart, Once again, Noah, Faye, and Jasper were not with her. Where were they? Over the months, she had developed a little tic—a small ache, almost—when any of the five was not in her sights, or was somewhere she did not know. The smallest of worries—the tiny thought that the mysterious men in black were leading them into harm’s way—tried to make itself known in her thoughts. But as she looked closely, she saw the light from the crack, and she decided, come what may, she would go into that space. After all, Faye, Noah, and Jasper were already there.
Holding Wallace and Lucy close to her, she, too, entered.
Immediately, bright light came from torches of fire placed along the walls of a tunnel. They were in some sort of passageway Ahead, Lucy saw the wide-brimmed man, Faye, Jasper, and Noah. Without saying a word, the man continued through the tunnel.
Several times, they came to forks where other tunnels seemed to intersect. The man in the floppy hat seemed to know the way without hesitation. Silently, they all followed.
The walls of the tunnel were stone. Along the way, they all noticed some carvings and writings. Whatever language the carvings were in, the children could not read them. Wallace noticed a small circular carving that recurred three times along the tunnel walls. They passed what looked like a chute of some kind, something that might once have been used to send coal or some other sort of supplies down into the tunnel. It looked old and unused.
The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black Page 24
