Children of the Fountain (11 page)

Matthias, Harry and Sophie sat in Mr Butler’s secluded classroom, deep inside the castle. It was a cold Sunday outside and the frost had charged down at the castle from the distant mountains. Chilling winds had whipped against the walls and the turrets sending fierce rain and debris at anyone who dared venture out. Most of the other children were in their dormitories, but the three friends had ventured off in search of some solitude.

“Well, I can’t understand how that thug Gerard got off so lightly.”

“He’s shrewd and well connected,” said Matthias.

“The boy is, at best, a simpleton.” Sophie was sitting on a bench casually browsing through one of the many textbooks that adorned the shelves. Harry was at the back poking a jar that contained some lungs in alcohol solution.

“It was a fair fight,” he said, “Gerard knew he’d lost.”

Matthias was in Mr Butler’s seat with his feet on the table. His hand absentmindedly touched the point on his ribs where Gerard had wounded him. It had taken several days to begin to heal and the castle physician had changed the bandages again only this morning.

“I’ve a score to settle with Gerard,” said Matthias, “but the important thing is I’ve been pushed up to the best classes. Looking forward to Monday, Harry?”

Harry turned around from the jars he was looking at, nearly knocking one over. “I’m not scared; if that’s what you mean?”

Matthias was due to have his first senior combat lesson tomorrow with O’Grady and the rest of his apprentices – which included Harry. He had been teasing his friend all week about their first practice which, frankly, couldn’t come too soon for Sophie. In her opinion the boys’ egos were now starting to fill rooms.

Matthias chuckled. “I never said you were Harry! I just said it was going to be fun. What do you think Sophie?”

She looked up from her book, her long black hair dangling over her face. “I wouldn’t get over confident if I were you Matthias. Harry is no novice.”

“Neither was Gerard,” said Matthias.

Sophie returned to her book and smirked.

“What?”

She looked up, “You’re forgetting that Harry has certain skills.” Her eyes looked to Matthias’s right and she nodded in that direction.

Matthias made to look and then too late realised he had been tricked. Harry, unseen and unheard, had snuck up behind him and placed a dagger casually across his throat.

“I don’t believe Gerard can do this,” he whispered. Sophie chuckled somewhere in the background. Matthias was aware of, but couldn’t see, Harry poised somewhere behind him.

He had to concede and Harry gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and sat down on the chair next to him.

“How do you do that? You literally vanish.”

“It’s my gift.”

Suddenly, outside of the room, they heard footsteps and voices. They all stood up just as the door opened and in walked Mr Hardy, Mr Cook and Alonso.

Their conversation trailed off and Mr Hardy spoke with authority, “What are you doing in here?”

Matthias looked to Sophie and said, “We were just reading our books, sir.” As soon as he spoke he realised his own book was lying on the desk unopened and his eyes rolled. Classrooms were technically out of bounds on Sundays but the rule wasn’t often enforced.

Mr Hardy’s eyes narrowed and he gave his moustache a slight twirl. “Kindly vacate the room please,” he said, “both of you.”

Matthias nodded and joined Sophie as she made her way to the door and he was almost out of the room when it hit him.
Both of you?
Where was Harry? Sophie’s eyes caught his and he knew instantly she was thinking the same thing. What was the idiot up to now? He could get in real trouble. As they left Alonso shut the door firmly behind them.

“What’s he playing at?” whispered Sophie.

“I don’t know,” said Matthias, shaking his head. “You know what he’s like.”

Sophie stood near the door. “That boy’s thirst for excitement is going to get him into real trouble one of these days. Can you hear anything?”

“No,” whispered Matthias, “They’re speaking quietly. What should we do? We can’t wait out here.”

“We’d best head back to the mustering hall and wait for him. If he gets caught it’s his own fault.”

They headed down the gloomy corridor until they arrived at the brightly lit hall where several of the other children were relaxing and playing games. Matthias and Sophie found a secluded corner to sit themselves down in and got their books out under the pretence of study.

They didn’t have much of a chance to even begin to feign interest in the texts before a bell started to ring out from the watchtower. Everybody looked up from what they were doing with puzzled expressions.

“It’s the alarm,” said Sophie. “We need to get outside.” Sophie started packing her book in her bag and turned to him. “This doesn’t look good. Do you think they caught him?”

“Well if he’s in trouble at least we’re not involved.”

“What do you mean?” whispered Sophie. “We knew he was in the room. If they’ve found him they’ll have our guts for garters as well!”

Matthias looked at Sophie as she ran her fingers through her hair. He knew it meant so much to her to be here that the thought of jeopardising it filled her very bones with dread.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We can say we didn’t know. Harry’s used to getting in trouble.” He patted her on the back and then the two friends followed the throng outside.

As they reached the courtyard the wind hit them in their faces but luckily the rain had stopped and the children lined up in their class groups. As they sought their own Matthias and Sophie were stunned to see Harry stood amongst some of their classmates with a big grin.

When they arrived they stood in line behind him and tried not to act surprised. “What happened?” said Matthias.

“I’ll tell you later,” said Harry. Before they could discuss things any further a silence descended upon the crowd as Mr Hardy made his way to the front and started to address them.

“Until further notice the castle is to be locked down. We have a security concern and so for your own safety nobody is to leave these walls.”

A collective groan enveloped the courtyard and the children started to chatter amongst themselves. Mr Hardy made a loud coughing noise – he was not used to having to do so and he looked cross.

“You will be advised when restrictions are to be lifted but until then
nobody
leaves and everybody is confined to their respective wings after lessons. You are all dismissed.”

The students started to disperse and make their way back to their various halls and dorms. But Matthias and Sophie grabbed Harry and cornered him underneath a large stained glass window.

“What happened?” said an exasperated Sophie. Harry looked at the pair and waited a suitably long time to build up the tensions, a big soppy grin across his face.

“I found out a secret. You’re going to love it!”

“What?” said Matthias.

“We’d better go inside I think,” said Harry, nodding towards Mr Butler who was ushering children back into the castle. “Sophie, head to our room and we can talk there.”

They mixed in with the swarm of students trickling back to various parts of the castle. However, where Sophie should have turned right for her dormitory she instead turned left for the mustering hall and followed Matthias and Harry straight through to their room just off the back.

Harry strode in and sat back on his bed his hands behind his head. He was clearly relishing being the custodian of whatever secrets he had learned.

“Well?” said Sophie, as she and Matthias pulled up chairs.

“Alright,” said Harry, as he settled himself. “So, after you two left I slipped into the shadows behind the large book case. They all sat down on desks and chairs and Mr Cook stood at the front. Apparently Hardy’s office was being used by someone for a meeting. Then they start talking about a prisoner.”

Sophie and Matthias exchanged excited glances and then stared back at Harry. “Turns out Alonso had been tracking someone and he’s finally got his man.”

Matthias felt a cold sweat cross his chest. “A prisoner?”

“Yes,” replied Harry. “Apparently he’s in the cells right now under Mr Cook’s guards.”

Sophie looked at Matthias with a raised eyebrow. But he wasn’t looking at Harry anymore.

“What is it Matthias?” said Sophie.

Matthias stared at the floor. “Did you get the name of the person Alonso brought in?”

“What?”

“The name,” he said, “did you hear them mention the name of the prisoner?”

Harry looked to Sophie in confusion and then turned back to Matthias. “Yes. I think they said he was called Balthazar.”

Matthias stared into space. Softly, he said the name again, “
Balthazar
.” His eyes closed over and both Sophie and now Harry looked at him with genuine concern.

“Are you alright?” said Harry.

“I’m fine,” said Matthias, suddenly straightening himself. He looked at them both and smiled. But the smile was not true. It was a sad smile and it didn’t hide the pain underneath it.

Sophie placed her hand on Matthias’s. Her deep brown eyes looked at him and for a second he thought he might break down and cry.

“Tell us Matthias,” she said. “Tell us who this man is.” And with that, Matthias told his story and he did not leave out one bloody detail.

The three friends sat in silence for some time after Matthias had finished recounting his tale. Harry looked at the floor uncertain of what to say and Sophie merely held onto his hand staring into some faraway distant space. Finally, after several minutes it was the young girl who spoke.

“You must take this opportunity, Matthias,” she said, calmly. “I can help you.”

Harry’s head snapped up. Matthias took a moment to turn Sophie’s words over in his mind.

“Wait a minute,” said Harry. “You don’t really mean that do you?”

“Why not?” said Sophie.

Harry got to his feet in front of the pair. “You mean to waltz into the cells and murder this man? He’s guarded by four of Cook’s men, or had you forgotten?”

“He’s going to be killed anyway, surely?” said Matthias. Sophie nodded.

“Yes, but after a trial. Besides, Matthias, you don’t even know if he did it. You never saw his face.” Harry looked concerned and turned to Sophie; maybe this was one adventure too big for him.

“I’ll know when I look in his eyes.”

Harry hadn’t finished. “You’re not ready for this, Matthias. Let it go.” His eyes, that were normally so full of mischief, were pleading with him.

He regarded Sophie, before looking back to Harry, “We’ll need you,” he said. You can get in there, find out where he is. Maybe even steal a key.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s too difficult. These men are experts. There’s no way I could get into a prison block, let alone back out again, without being discovered.”

“Maybe not,” said Sophie, “but if you could just get me into the kitchens. I could take care of the rest.”

The two boys turned to look at her, their eyebrows raised. “Poison him?” said Matthias.

“We wouldn’t need to get anywhere near his cell.”

“How could we be sure?” said Harry. “I mean, they might have several prisoners down there. How would we know which meal was his?”

Sophie sighed and started to play with her hair, something Matthias noticed she always did when she was trying to remain calm. “You could watch. Do it a few times and you’ll soon see their routine.”

“But surely Matthias would want to do it?” he said. “After all, this man murdered
his
sister.”

They both looked at him and waited for an answer. Matthias started to think about the man in the abbey. To think about the face he had almost seen. That voice, the harsh whisper. Then, his thoughts turned to his friends. He saw the blood pooling on the floor and children’s bodies lying all around him. He imagined the pain they had gone through, their cries for help and their screams. Finally he saw Rebecca’s face as she fell, her eyes rolling into the darkness.

Just for a moment he was back there. Back in that room amongst the flames. He looked down and saw a knife in his hand. Startled, he blinked and sat upright.

Sophie and Harry were watching him. Matthias spoke softly. “He’s right. I want to do it.” The light was failing now and he was covered in shadow.

“I will not rest until I have taken his life and spilt every drop of his blood.”

They could barely see his face and they weren’t sure if he was looking at them. Sophie started to speak but Matthias interrupted. “I want to look into his eyes as I kill him. I want him to know who I am. I will make this man’s last moment one of fear, pain and despair.”

He waited to see if either of them said anything. “I need to know if I can count on you, Harry.”

“Matthias, I’m your friend. But this…”

“
This
is the big adventure you’ve always wanted. Everything we’ve learned; now we can put it in to practice. Otherwise what’s the point?”

Harry sighed, his chest sank a little and he sat down again. “I’m with you, Matthias.”

He waited to see if either spoke again. Neither did. Finally, Sophie started to discuss their options. She was the calmest and most clinical. Her ideas flowed freely and she even started to draw some simple diagrams. The three sat up late into the night hatching their plan. They all agreed poison was not a possibility if Matthias wanted the kill himself and the only person who could get close enough to even try would be Harry.

He decided he wanted Harry and Sophie to get him inside the cells. After all, he reasoned, they were designed to keep people from getting out, not in. They talked for many hours and subjected each plan to close scrutiny. Eventually Sophie tired and they agreed to sleep on it. She bid the boys farewell and left for her dormitory. Harry said he too was tired and blew out the candle before curling up on his bed.

Matthias remained upright in his seat. The moon was the only source of light now and it spilt into the room from a starless sky coating everything with a pale blue. “I can’t sleep,” he whispered to Harry, who was already snoring. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

He got out of his chair, pulled on his coat and slipped away. Shadows danced across the mustering hall as he made his way toward the chapel. Somehow, even though he was not a pious boy, he felt he might find some peace there.

Making his way through the murky corridors he encountered not a soul. The castle was so quiet, deep inside he couldn’t even hear the wind. As he came to the chapel and walked through the doors he looked up. Here, the moon streamed through the stained glass and the colours spread out before him like flowerbeds. It was beautiful. In front of him was Jesus on the cross, the disciples and several saints all in prayer. The images that he had seen a hundredfold in daylight looked different. It was something about the moonlight. Its colour, its coldness and its clarity.

As he sat down on a pew he thought perhaps this clarity could somehow give him the answer he needed. He toyed with the dagger and long into the night he sat in front of the altar, but not at prayer.

To murder even an evil man, was beyond forgiveness in the eyes of the Lord. His uncle had told him this much only yesterday in another one of his talks. The old man had even offered Matthias a place at his side, here in the chapel after his training, but he had refused.

He looked to the monk’s door and could just make out the faint flickering yellow light of a candle. Surely his uncle wasn’t awake at this hour? He eased himself up and softly walked over to the corridor that took him down to the small gloomy study. The old man was nowhere to be seen but he had left a candle burning on the table. Matthias sat down and started to glance through some of the books. It looked like his uncle had been reading through the works of his predecessor Father Morant again.

What had he called him? A historian, of sorts. He’d disappeared in mysterious circumstances, Matthias was sure of that. He picked up one of the books, “
A Short History of Miguel López de Legazpi
.” On the front cover was a crest with black and yellow stripes; much like a honey bee.

He continued browsing and found more books; each one a history of someone. There were many names – Pizarro, de Ojeda and Nunez! He froze and looked at the book in his hand. “
Vasco Nunez
,” it read. The crest on the cover featured a dragon underneath what looked like a seahorse. He opened the book and on the first page found a family tree. His finger traced downwards until he came to the name he knew would be there –
Balthazar
. He said the word under his breath.

That’s when he noticed something that puzzled him. Vasco Nunez was born in 1475. Balthazar, his son, was born in 1550. Matthias blinked and looked again. There were no grandchildren, and all of Vasco's other children were born around the same time.

How could this be? The year was 1817. Impossible. He looked at the rest of the family tree but it stopped there. No more children, no marriages and no deaths. Vasco Nunez and his family were still alive if this book was to be believed, but it was clearly out of date. Balthazar must have had a great grandfather with the same name. Thumbing through the pages he found even more details on Vasco’s life; his ascension to titles, battles and triumphs.

He picked up another one: “
A History of the Pizarro Family.
” The crest was faint and worn but Matthias could make out two bears either side of a tree. He opened the pages and looked inside at the diagram showing the lifelines of Francisco Pizarro and his sons and daughters – all eight of them.

Matthias searched until he could find another candle and lit it. Francisco was born in 1476. His children were born around 1500 onwards; so were their children and their children’s children. The family tree was enormous and complex, but only a few of the names had dates of death.

Matthias regarded the book. Of course, he thought, Father Morant must not have finished his work. These were ancient histories that were incomplete and missing all the relevant deaths.

“History interests you does it?” said a voice from the shadows.

Matthias turned with his hand already on his dagger. Stood in the doorway was Alonso; his great hulk blocking the old stone exit and his single eye reflecting the candlelight.

“My uncle doesn’t mind me being here,” said Matthias.

“I have no doubt,” said the mystic. “Although I imagine he would prefer you were accompanied at this hour. But you haven’t answered my question.”

He looked at the books scattered on the table and the names with their fanciful crests and shields stared back at him.

“These books make no sense. The family trees are only half complete.”

Alonso stepped forward and walked to the table. He picked up one of the books and Matthias couldn’t help noticing it was that of Vasco Nunez.

“Interesting you should use that
exact
phrase,” he said softly. “Some might say that these men’s lives were only half complete.”

“What happened to them?” said Matthias.

“There are many tales associated with the names you see in these books. Each family has its histories and tragedies. Each name brings with it a story. Father Morant documented these stories, as far as he could. You see, the stories themselves are not yet finished.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alonso opened the book and started to flick through the pages. “One name, one book in particular, I imagine caught your eye. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“You seek revenge on this man?”

“Yes.”

The mystic appeared to consider this and after some thought he nodded. “It is a difficult thing to take a man’s life. Only at the very last second will you know for sure if you can complete the undertaking. A king can send an army to their deaths without blinking an eye; but to kill a man in cold blood…”

Alonso stepped forward, his tall frame blocking the light from the candle. “You need to be up close.”

Matthias looked at the floor and imagined himself for a moment holding a knife to the throat of Balthazar Nunez.

“Before you begin this journey though, I would suggest you look for something.” Alonso placed the volume he held on the table amongst the others.

“Another book?”

Alonso smiled, “Yes, the one book missing from that pile.” Matthias looked down at the names. They seemed to form a pattern in his mind.

“Cortés,” said Matthias, softly his lips barely moving. “My family. Where is it?”

“I do not know. But perhaps your uncle does.”

He looked down again at the pile. When he looked up Alonso had vanished.