Children of the Fountain (16 page)

“Whatever I do Michael, you’re going to kill me anyway. So why should I not take the boy with me? Complete my vengeance.”

“Vengeance? You dare to speak of it?”

“I watched my wife die! Your fool of a father could have saved her.” Nunez’s eyes opened. “One drink! That’s all I wanted.”

“My father guards the fountain to avoid such tragedies as this.”

“Well, I don’t think you can avoid this tragedy.”

“That’s what we’re going to find out. You see Matthias is quick, just like Margaret.”

Nunez stared at Matthias for a second; and in that second Matthias saw everything.

He saw Nunez reach a decision. Watched his fingers twitch on the pistols, glimpsed the sparks from the flint, the puff of smoke from the barrels and the jolt from Alexander as his own rifle fired as well.

But Matthias was already turning, diving to the ground, rolling backward and away from the shots he saw trail above him, inches from his face. When he landed on the floor he rolled over several times before stopping and, without thinking, sprung to his feet.

Nunez was lurching forward, blood across his head. He must have avoided Alexander’s shot somehow as he was now lunging at Matthias; a crazed and hungry look in his eyes. Matthias’s hand reached to his belt without thinking and he brought out his knife, leapt forward. Nunez’s blood stained hands clawed at his face and he tasted the man’s blood in his mouth.

Somehow he managed to grab his neck and with all his might thrust the dagger upward as the two rolled to the floor. They spun, Nunez on top and then Matthias before finally they lay side by side.

Balthazar Nunez looked confused momentarily, but then his eyes snapped wide open. Finally, comprehending what had happened, he opened his mouth but no noise came out. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as blood streamed out of the side of his throat.

What may have been a scream of pain was followed by convulsions. The body finally stopped jerking, and lay still at Matthias’s side. He stood up and looked down at the man he had waited so long to kill. His eyes raced over every detail. The hair, the hands and feet. The clothes, the shoes all looked so normal. But the eyes. The eyes looked back at Matthias as if from Hell itself.

For a while he stared, unsure whether to know what to say or to even look at his father. But then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and an embrace. It felt strange, hugging this boy who was barely older than him. But it also felt right, his father cried.

“My son. I’m so sorry.”

Matthias looked across at his father from inside the coach. The sun was high and cast shadows down either side of the roof. Through the open window he could hear the horses snorting and the wheels thundering slowly over the road.

“This must seem strange for you,” said Michael Cortés.

Matthias stared blankly at the boy only a foot away, their knees jarring together every time the coach went over a rock. “What should I call you?”

“For now, it must be Alexander.”

Time rattled on. The coach wheels kept turning. He wasn’t sure if it was for minutes or hours that he looked out of the carriage window. Alexander, his blond hair catching the sun and illuminating his head, merely sat and waited.

Alonso was sat above driving the carriage; Mr Cook sat next to him nursing a bruised head. The mystic had suggested they have time alone to talk. Nunez’s body was on the roof in a sack; Alonso had stated it should be returned to his family. Matthias had been in too much shock to even think about it, but now that he did he felt revulsion knowing the corpse was only inches away.

“You must have a lot of questions,” said Alexander, shifting forward in his seat. “When you are ready I will answer them.”

“Questions?” said Matthias, and let the word hang in the air. Alexander shifted in his seat. “I lost my home, my family. I was taken into a life that I feel I’m still only able to grasp.”

Alexander nodded. “I can only imagine how you feel. It has been quite a change.”

“Quite a change?” he leaned forward now, his lips peeling back from his teeth. “I was trained to kill. Shown how to use weapons and learnt every part of a man’s body that I might end his life. I chose a future of war, assassination and revenge. I bathed in it. Nurtured every sweet moment of hate I felt toward the man who murdered my sister and then finally killed him. And now, my father steps forward out of the shadows. Feel? I feel nothing, sir. I have no feelings left.”

Alexander nodded slowly. “You have your mother’s temperament.”

Matthias scoffed and shook his head. Another minute went by and he too stared out of the window at the passing countryside. He didn’t know what to say, yet he wanted to say so much. Why couldn’t he talk?

His heartbeats started to slow down; he thought of Rebecca. What would she have done? She would have been more frightened than him, but a father – the one thing she had always yearned for. If she had been here, Matthias would have taken the lead. Consoled her and questioned their father on her behalf. Eventually, he decided he would try to understand.

“What was my mother like?” he said.

“The most beautiful woman in the world and one of the most intelligent,” said Alexander, as he sat back, his gaze lost in memory.

“What happened to you?” said Matthias.

“After your mother died I too wanted revenge. But first I had to hide you and your sister. James agreed to take you in; though our father didn’t give him much choice.”

“Does he know about you?” said Matthias. “I saw you in his quarters. I thought perhaps you were helping out in the chapel.”

Alexander smiled, weakly. “Your uncle understands I lost my faith a long time ago. But in answer to your question, yes, he knows who I really am. It was quite a shock when I told him. You know about the fountain?”

“Yes, he explained what happened; your father and the others.”

“After I had hid you and your sister my options were limited. The Guard was weak back then; it was shortly before the war and our numbers had been depleted in Europe. That’s when I came back to the castle and met Father Morant.”

“The monk who had been writing all the histories.”

“Yes. James tells me you have read some of them.”

“Bits. He was teaching me to read. It was the family trees that helped me piece things together.”

“But the histories were just part of what he had been writing about. You see, Morant was really a man of science; something that sat at odds with the church. When he was taken on as chaplain for the castle he delved in to understanding the nature of the fountain and all the gifts it had bestowed on the children; either through direct contact or breeding.

“He told me of his theories and it was through these teachings I designed my plan to go back to the place where it had all began. Ten years it took me. I sailed across to the Americas and with little more than a scribbled map and a few legends I found it; but only after the jungle nearly killed me.

“It was still there. So perfect, so beautiful. The fountain was already in my blood so to drink from it? Well, I didn’t exactly know what was going to happen. When I drank, everything changed. I became younger, but my mind remained the same. It took several days, at times it was quite painful. But eventually my body transformed into who you see before you now. My younger self.

“I made my way back and holed up at the castle. The plan was to speak to you and your sister when you were old enough. Nunez changed all that.”

Alexander clenched his hands together then settled them on his lap. “Did she suffer?”

Again, for a moment, Matthias was back at the abbey; amongst the screams and blood. His friends’ faces flashed past him, always just at the side of his vision. They were crying out to him, pleading. But Rebecca somehow looked peaceful. Her death had been brutal, but quick.

“No, she did not suffer.”

“If I’d have known I would have never left you both.”

“What now?”

“I must remain as Alexander. The Legion will doubtless pursue the loss of Nunez. It could mean another war.”

Matthias allowed their eyes to meet. “Will you stay at the castle?”

“Perhaps, for the moment. It was Lady Taylor who led the men into the castle, she has disappeared however.”

“I saw her in the forest, last night,” said Matthias, “but I didn’t realise she had betrayed us.”

“Lady Taylor pledged her service to the Guard a long time ago. Do not be so quick to judge her in attempting to save her brother’s life, even if it was a wicked one. I’m sure there was nothing you wouldn’t have done for Rebecca?”

Matthias nodded. Alexander continued, “Alonso and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

“You two are close?”

“Alonso and I go back a long way. It was my proximity which clouded his visions of you. He saw two lives touched by the fountain, entwined in a past, present and future.”

“His prophecy?”

“My transformation caused certain ripples in his mind. I think he mistook those ripples for a sign; a sign that led him to you.”

Above them he heard no sound from the mystic, but both felt his presence. It was almost a feeling in the air you couldn’t quite perceive. But there was also an impression that he was able to hear every word you said.

“You must finish your training,” said Alexander, “if you are to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” said Matthias.

“Whatever comes next.”

The journey back to the castle proved, thankfully, uneventful. When they arrived it was dark and Alonso urged Matthias to get some rest as Mr Hardy would doubtless want to see them in the morning. Alexander said he had to return to his dormitory, lest he be missed.

“I’ll speak to you soon,” he said, placing a hand on Matthias’s shoulder.

He nodded and watched as his father, the man he thought dead but who was alive and trapped in the body of a young man, disappeared through a castle door.

He turned to Alonso, “Did you know?”

“No, his future is empty. Perhaps the fountain has changed his soul; certainly his body. But his mind is still very powerful.”

“He said I needed to be ready for whatever happens next. What do you think he meant?”

“A war, perhaps,” said the mystic, who was now climbing up to the back of the carriage to retrieve the body. He did so with ease and threw Nunez’s corpse onto the floor. He beckoned over a student who came to help.

“Vasco Nunez will want to avenge his son’s death, no doubt.” The mystic looked down at Matthias, the solitary eye gazing far beyond the boy. “I could always say I killed him?”

“No,” said Matthias. “It was me. I want him to know who did it and why.”

“Help me with this,” he said to the student, a young boy who had no idea what it was. “I must go now, your father wishes to talk to me alone.”

The mystic gave him a friendly smile and then he and the boy walked off around the back of the castle, carrying Balthazar Nunez with them.

Matthias headed inside. Making his way through the corridors of the castle he was sure the other students who saw him regarded him differently, several moving aside and trying not to make eye contact. Word couldn’t have gotten around that quickly? But then he realised he had blood on his clothes.

As he neared the chapel he started to feel anxious about seeing his uncle. Knowing how the monk felt about killing he was unsure of what reception he would receive. Guilt and nerves ran through him but it all washed away when he saw the old man turn from prayer at the altar and hold out his arms. The embrace felt good.

“Matthias, it’s so good to see you return safe!”

His uncle was happy, but there was also concern hidden in the depth of his eyes. “Mr Hardy told me you left with Alonso. Let’s go to my study, I have some food.”

They made their way to the back of the chapel and along the corridor. As usual, the small room was stacked high with writing and the single candle projected the shadows of piles of books onto the wall making them feel like they were surrounded by enormous buildings.

“I hear Alexander helped out,” said James, almost casually.

“You mean my father?”

His uncle paused, holding an apple just above the fruit bowl for a moment, before turning and offering it to him.

“He told you?”

He nodded and took a bite. The monk sighed and leant back on his chair. “I was wondering when he would.”

“How long have you known?”

“The day I arrived; I saw him in the corridors.” Father James chuckled, “He looks just like he did when we were younger. At the time I gave it no further thought; when you have lived as long as I have the memory plays tricks. But he visited me that night and every day after.”

“That day I came in?”

“Yes, he had come to see me and when he heard voices quickly pretended to clean the floors. He’s never so much as lifted a scrubbing brush in his life! I knew I couldn’t lie to him and had to introduce you as my nephew.”

“That’s why he acted so strange.”

“Indeed, for a second I thought he might let his secret out. But we both knew it was too dangerous. We had to work out what to do with you.”

“I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“Your bravery is to your credit; but you lack experience.”

“We have so much to catch up on; I want him to teach me.”

“I can teach you too.” The old man sat down and ran his fingers through what little of his hair remained.

“You must understand,” he continued, “To them this is all a game. A deadly one but a game none the less; one I chose to have no part in. Perhaps they see in you a replacement for me.” He sighed, “If only my father would end this futile war.”

“But what of the secret he guards?”

“It is God’s secret Matthias. We should have faith he will see fit to exercise his plan when he chooses.”

They talked until it was late. Father James shared stories about Matthias’s father, they both recollected about the abbey. Finally, he felt his eyelids draping downwards.

His uncle offered him some hot milk before he left, which he gladly accepted. Afterwards he made his way back to the dormitory where the sounds of Harry’s snoring could be heard even from outside his chamber. Getting into his bed he drifted off with gentle thoughts of his uncle, glad that he had some connection to hold onto in his rapidly changing world and for the first time in a long time he slept peacefully.

At sunrise he ate with his friends in the mustering hall. Both Harry and Sophie were desperate to get all the details they could out of him.

Harry’s jaw almost hit the table when Matthias told how he’d picked off one of Nunez’s men with a pistol and it was Sophie’s turn when he spoke of killing Balthazar himself.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“How did it feel?” asked Sophie.

Matthias looked back at his friend, her face showed no expression. “I feel happy, I think,” he finally said.

She nodded, “Yes, I believe you do.”

Before they could get any more detail out of him a student arrived to tell them they were ordered to go to Mr Hardy’s room. When they entered he was playing with his moustache and reading a letter on his desk. He pointed to some seats across the room, “Sit down, all of you.”

The master looked at Matthias, Harry and Sophie from behind his desk blankly. The fire crackled and spat from one corner and the only other sound was the great clock that looked on from the shelf behind his chair. As it ticked away each second with its ancient mechanism, time seemed to slow down. Indeed, Matthias could feel the pause between each ‘tick’ and ‘tock’ get longer.

Finally, Mr Hardy looked straight at him and spoke, “What you did was extremely foolish.”

Matthias looked at the floor unable to meet the man’s gaze. Harry and Sophie followed suit staring at their shoes or some crack in the stones.

“Because of your actions two boys are dead.”

Harry’s head shot up at this, “We tried to warn them!”

“Dead!” bellowed Mr Hardy. Harry breathed in and sat back as if he had been delivered a blow.

“The man who we
suspected
responsible for the massacre at the abbey almost got free, but was then killed; taking any intelligence he may have had with him and I have two dead children on my hands. Is any of this registering?”

Silence descended on the room once more when Mr Hardy paused, but he was not finished. “I have to write to their parents, Matthias. Have you any ideas on what I should say? ‘Killed in the line of duty’ perhaps? An ‘accident’ during training?”

Matthias swallowed hard and finally brought himself to meet Mr Hardy’s gaze. The master was still sat behind the desk, his palms facing down onto the oak.

“I don’t know, sir,” said Matthias.

“Maybe I should just tell the truth? That they died because of the wanton revenge of a boy? A boy who wished to take the life of the man who destroyed his.

“A boy who needlessly got his friends involved in a botched assassination and whose actions enabled a murderer to almost go free and in doing so endanger the lives of everyone in this castle. A boy whose sheer arrogance meant that their sons ended up caught in the crossfire. Do you think this is what I should write in the letters?”

“It was a trap. Nunez’s men were already there. If it hadn’t of been Gerard and Evan it could have been someone else.”

“Yes, Matthias. It could have been anyone else. Or, Mr Cook could have dealt with them as he had intended to after receiving word from his spies; that is why he came to the castle – he knew of the plan. But we will never know if Mr Cook would have succeeded as when he did arrive they conveniently had hostages.”

The crushing weight of Mr Hardy’s statement made him wobble on his chair. His head rolled back and he stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes. What had he done? What price had he paid?

Gerard was a bully and Evan a weasel, but they hadn’t deserved this. If only he could go back. If only he could change it. But he couldn’t and now he had the blood of two more people on his hands; only these were innocent.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice croaking.

“No, you didn’t. We have rules, Matthias. I’m sure you know them by now. I won’t patronise you by pointing out why you should have obeyed them. We live in a very dark world; our code is our only source of light.”

Mr Hardy turned his steely gaze to Sophie and Harry. “As for you two, you should have known better.”

“Yes, sir,” they both muttered.

“I trust all three of you wish to continue your training here?”

They all shared a glance and nodded. “Your punishment will be three months of extra duties. Harry, I believe you already have a role in the stables, Sophie will assist in the kitchens and Matthias you will be working in the chapel.

“With regards to yesterday’s events I’m sure you understand the need for discretion and so will ask that none of you to speak of this again, even to each other. Am I
absolutely
clear on this?”

All three nodded. Mr Hardy got up and reached for his coat and some papers, “Harry, Sophie; come with me to the records office, we have some paperwork. Matthias, please remain here.”

He stood and nodded as they made to leave before he was left alone with nothing but the sound of the clock to keep him company.

Minutes passed, images whirled in his head as he digested what Mr Hardy had just said. The guilt settled down in his stomach like a weight; and it wasn’t going anywhere. He kept telling himself it wasn’t his fault, but it sounded like another voice in his head – pretending. Although then another voice spoke,
Nunez is dead! What price wouldn’t you have paid?

Would he have let them die if he had known? His hands felt the arms of the chair he sat on. He looked down and saw warped, yellow wood where the varnish had worn. How many other sets of hands had clawed at these arms? How many other students had sat here in Mr Hardy’s office and pondered their fate?

There was no getting over a part of him didn’t want to turn back the clock. Gerard and Evan were, ultimately, a price he had been willing to pay. The Legion had declared war on him; there were going to be casualties he would see to that. They must be stopped and here, at the castle, was the best place for him to help with the fight.

Harry and Sophie were his friends now and the thought of something like what happened at the abbey happening to them filled him with rage. Here, the children were trained. They were killers.
Let the Legion come
, he reasoned.