Shadow in the Dark Read online

  He shrugged and grinned. “They’ve gone to play barres or something, I guess.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you again,” she said. “I thought you were going home.”

  “Oh, that.” As they walked, he told her about his journey to Hardonbury.

  As his story grew more sorrowful, her playful eyes retreated. “I’ll pray for you and your family today,” she said. “I can’t imagine how horrid all this must be for you.”

  She seemed to understand it all so naturally. He hadn’t needed to explain how he felt.

  “Brother Andrew and I are going to see this Lord Godfrey tomorrow.”

  Lucy’s face lit up in surprise. “Godfrey, the rich land baron? Do you think he’ll see you?”

  Lord Godfrey must have been very great indeed for Lucy to know about him, although her father apparently tended horses for all sorts of powerful men.

  “Well, he is the new lord of Hardonbury,” Xan said. “I imagine he’d be willing to meet with one of his own people.”

  Lucy shook her head. “You really don’t understand all this, do you?”

  Warmth filled his cheeks as he bowed his head in shame.

  Lucy seemed startled. “Nay, I didn’t mean to sound like that! The only reason I know any of this is because Father travels with these barons and noblemen to London and Lincoln and York.”

  “Right,” he said. “Of course. Then you don’t think Lord Godfrey will want to see me?”

  “Most manor lords are so busy with their wealthy friends that they don’t have time for the simple folk. We are just peasants, after all. And they’re like . . . well . . .”

  “Like kings,” he said.

  “Aye. The manor lord is a ruler, and the peasants work the land for him as tenants.”

  “So we’re not important.”

  She frowned. “Everyone’s important, Xan. We’re just not important to them.”

  The door to the convent rose before them. They’d walked the entire way together, barely noticing the other girls in front and behind.

  Lucy gave a wave. “If you do see Lord Godfrey, be sure to bow when you speak.”

  “All right. I will.”

  Lucy slipped through the convent door, her high, black curls vanishing into the crack.

  Xan sat at a wooden table in a cottage with two others. A man was eating a loaf of bread with his work-worn hands. A woman—a bit younger-looking than the man, with a warm beauty—was humming a tune that could bring peace to a troubled soul. Xan somehow knew every note of it.

  A tap came at the cottage door.

  A sickening chill convulsed Xan’s body. “Don’t open it!” he yelled.

  The woman didn’t hear him. She moved to the door, as if drawn by the visitor.

  “Stop!” he shouted again, louder.

  She pressed the handle; the door creaked. A bony hand reached in, along with a black robe.

  Except the woman didn’t scream or cry or panic. She merely stepped aside and allowed the thing to enter freely, not a bit of fear on her face. She seemed to welcome the shadowy figure.

  “Nay!”

  Xan woke up, shivering on his straw mattress. Had he screamed aloud or only in his nightmare? And why had the woman let the angel of death into her home so willingly?

  He peered about the dormitory. A half-moon shone through his window slit.

  In front of the other window stood John, David, and Joshua.

  Oh, no. This would be another chance for John to frighten the youngest boys.

  He joined the others at the window.

  “Xan!” Joshua said. “John just saw the Shadow again!”

  “Right now? In the meadow?” He stepped closer to John.

  This was it: the time for proof of this supposed shadow. If John was making it all up, Xan could reveal the bully’s trick in one defining moment and put an end to the fraud once and for all.

  “There—see it?” John was pointing to a clump of trees next to a field, near the hedges and the trail that led to Lord Godfrey’s estate. “’Tis moving by the hedge.”

  Some of the children had awakened now, sitting up in their beds with fearful eyes.

  Xan nudged David aside from the window. “Let me get a better look.”

  “Watch in the trees by the old path.” John spoke without arrogance for once.

  In all that darkness, John couldn’t possibly see much. The moon barely lit the edge of the woodland. A jagged line might have been the tops of hedges, but who could say from this distance?

  “I don’t see anything, John. ’Tis your imagination. There’s nothing—”

  At that moment, the line of hedges seemed to tremble as something passed in front of them. It wasn’t so much that a shadow could be seen, but rather that the hedges could not be seen.

  “You see it, don’t you?” said John, arrogant once more. “I told you.”

  As Xan’s eyes adjusted to the lighting, the contours of a robe of dark material took form. Aye—a robed figure with a hood covering its head. Something had glistened in its hand, too.

  The angel of death was rumored to carry a scythe blade. But in the stories, the only people who could see the angel were those destined to die.

  “What is that thing?” Xan whispered to himself.

  His comment caused two children to cry out, faces muffled in their mattresses. Instead of helping matters, he’d made it all worse. He should have just stayed in bed. Now he needed to do something before the entire dorm was terrified to tears.

  “Nay.” He stepped back from the window. “A black robe—probably one of the monks.”

  “Well,” said John, his tone cruel and taunting. “Then why don’t you go down and speak with him? I’m sure you would have a very nice conversation.”

  Xan didn’t answer.

  John was right, of course. Xan could end this right now by going down there. But what if he was right and this were merely a monk? He’d probably get into big trouble. Brother Leo would definitely hit him with the paddle. And maybe the abbot wouldn’t let him go to Chadwick Manor tomorrow, either. That was reason enough not to go down.

  But was that the real reason? His heart was beating fast; his hands were shaking. Some part of him must be worried the Shadow might be something else. He could make a fatal mistake going down there. And he’d just dreamed of the angel of death in that woman’s cottage. Was that a sign?

  “Gone!” shouted David, who had taken Xan’s spot at the window. “Behind the hedge.”

  There lay the path toward Chadwick. Now the boys would say the Shadow was going to Lord Godfrey’s estate to claim someone’s soul.

  John let out a mocking laugh. “Well, now we know you’re both clumsy and a coward.”

  “I don’t care what you say, John. Stay up all night if you want. I’m going back to bed.”

  Xan marched to his mattress and pulled up the blanket.

  If he were lucky, his brave face would at least set some of the younger ones at ease. If they saw him going back to bed, they might feel safe enough to do so too. John was wrong—he had to be wrong. Sometimes stories might be true, but sometimes stories were just stories.

  Yet, if John were right, then the Shadow lurked somewhere out there tonight. And someone would have his soul claimed at the very hands of Death.

  The morning would reveal the truth.

  9

  Godfrey

  Brother Andrew and Xan headed toward the hedges and the trail that led to Chadwick Manor. They would be walking in the footsteps of the Shadow this morning.

  “Maybe you’ll find a dead body on the way there,” Joshua had suggested at breakfast.

  Nay, the only thing worth finding today was his family. With the sun sparkling above them, all their fear about the Shadow seemed silly. Joshua had even taken a head count in the dorm to make sure none of the others had disappeared in the night.

  When they reached the hedges, two novice boys in white tunics passed by. The monk gave a slight wave but said nothing to them
.

  “If you see any novices, Xan, leave them be. They are in a time of silent prayer this week.”

  What a strange life for those boys, whose parents had brought them to the abbey and offered them up as novices. Brother Andrew spoke freely about them as he led Xan along the trail to Chadwick, leaves on the path crunching under their leather shoes.

  “One day,” the monk said, “those novices will take the three vows of the black monks: Conversion—promising to turn from sin and follow God; Obedience—promising to obey The Rule and our abbot; and Stability—promising to live at the abbey all their days, except when the abbot sends them off on official business.”

  But why would any boy want to live like a prisoner at an abbey, far away from his family?

  They stopped after an hour for a break before continuing into a part of the woodland where the light grew dim because so many trees clamored for the sun. Brother Andrew seemed to relish the walk, mouthing prayers under his breath a while before sharing another lesson or idea.

  “Xan, this morning after prime—that is our prayer at dawn—the abbot brought me news from our abbey’s two manors, Penwood and Oakwood. It seems no refugees from Hardonbury fled to either place. ’Tis no surprise, though. Chadwick is the closest manor to your village.”

  The monk’s news was good. It meant his family was probably with Lord Godfrey, not spread around at all different manors. If he found them, he would probably stay with them tonight.

  In fact, this might be his final time ever to walk with Brother Andrew. The monk hadn’t seemed burdened by keeping his company these past days. Maybe he was glad for the chance to leave the abbey for a time because his vow of stability had kept him stuck there for years.

  Perhaps Xan’s mother and father would let him visit the abbey sometimes to see Brother Andrew and Joshua. And Lucy. Unless his parents were very strict. They’d make him change his name, of course. How odd that would be, going back to Harwood Abbey with a different name.

  “Xan is not my true name,” he said to the monk at their next resting place. “I hope you won’t mind if I start using my old name again.”

  “Do not worry about that,” the monk said, leaning against a tree. “We black monks know quite well that names change. Indeed, my parents did not name me Andrew. That is the name I chose when I took my final vows and entered my new life with God.”

  That seemed odd, to one day decide to pick a new name. “So, what is your real name?”

  “I was baptized Robert, but that name died when I took my vows. Still, whether Robert or Andrew, God loves me just the same, for He sees and loves what is on the inside.”

  Their journey to Chadwick continued for a long while more, until the trail curved and headed out of the forest. Brother Andrew stopped them at noon to chant his midday prayers, which he called sext. They then continued on the path as it led toward Lord Godfrey’s estate.

  From the crest of a hill, Chadwick Manor came into sight. It seemed much larger than Hardonbury, though arranged in similar fashion. Cottages dotted the center of the village. On every side lay fields and pastures. A stone parish church stood alone, and at the northern end of the estate, a manor house towered to the sky, encircled by a wall. Thin chimneys puffed out wisps of smoke.

  “This is the largest of Lord Godfrey’s manors,” Brother Andrew said.

  “How many manors does he have?”

  “Too many,” the monk said with a laugh. “In each he has appointed a knight to rule the manor in his stead, in exchange for their service and loyalty. And also a share of their profits.”

  They followed the trail into a wide pasture, where servants tended sheep and goats. A jagged stone wall surrounded the entire manor: too low to stop bandits from entering but probably tall enough to slow them down until Lord Godfrey’s guards could arrive to fight.

  “Of course, Xan, the lord of all these lands is King Henry—though God is the real Lord, truth be told. When the King needs soldiers in time of war, a land baron like Lord Godfrey must order his knights to fight for the king. ’Tis a tax on him for ruling land in Henry’s kingdom.”

  That sent the monk into another lesson as they followed the path past busy cottages, where peasant women and children swept and did their chores.

  For well over a hundred years, the arrangement between king, lord, and tenant had given the King an army ready for battle whenever England was threatened. It had helped the land barons become wealthy, while avoiding the dangers of combat. It had allowed knights to gain wealth, while only occasionally fighting in battle. And it had given peasants—like Xan’s family—a place to work and live. It was just as Lucy had said.

  But where did Xan fit in? Was his destiny to work with his family for Lord Godfrey, sweeping and harvesting wheat in a run-down little cottage?

  They finally arrived at the outer gate to Lord Godfrey’s manor house. The thick stone wall rose three times higher than the jagged one around the rest of Chadwick. Upon it stood guards in chain mail, with bows and swords. They signaled the monk, who revealed the reason for their visit.

  “Wait there,” one of the guards shouted.

  Brother Andrew plopped down on a large stone. “Rest yourself, Xan. This could take a while.”

  “What is Lord Godfrey like?” Xan asked, dropping into a soft patch of yellowing grass.

  “He is much like any rich nobleman—busy and proud. He has been a benefactor to Harwood Abbey over the years. He donated that stained-glass window in our abbey church.”

  “Have you ever spoken with him?”

  “Only once. We monks avoid contact with the secular world, especially since King Henry and our Pope have battled so fiercely against each other. The King seeks to rule the Church as he rules his own lands, I think. In any event, Godfrey travels often and is likely to be away today.”

  Lucy was right about the monks not liking the King. But still, how nice it would be to have wealth like King Henry. Then Xan and his family could live wherever they wanted.

  “What does Lord Godfrey do with all his treasure?” he asked.

  Brother Andrew chuckled. “By grace, one can only imagine. It costs a great fortune to run his vast lands. And I know too well that those with wealth always seek more. ’Tis never enough.”

  The gleam in the monk’s blue eye hinted that some story might be behind his comment, but before Xan could ask, the gate clanged open.

  A tall man in a metal helmet raised a hand in greeting. “Follow me.”

  He escorted Xan and Brother Andrew to the manor house entrance, explaining that Lord Godfrey was at the manor today and had extended full hospitality to his unexpected visitors. He’d even sent along a welcoming message and invitation to meet with him in person.

  “How unusual,” the monk said, though clearly pleased by the honor.

  They entered through enormous wooden doors graced with a carved inset of two swords that came together over a serpent and a cross. Inside, smooth stone walls shimmered in the torchlight as they passed through wide hallways. At length, they arrived in a lavish reception area with walls decked in ornaments of gold and silver, and tables filled with fruits, nuts, and breads.

  A servant approached and bowed. “Might I offer you some refreshment to quench your hunger and thirst after such a long journey?”

  Brother Andrew shook his head. “Not a morsel for me. Food at this time of day is strictly forbidden by The Rule.” He gestured to Xan. “You may have a small helping if you wish.”

  Xan approached the table and chose a wafer from a silver tray. It unexpectedly melted into pure honey-syrup in his mouth—nothing like the simple meals he’d eaten at Harwood Abbey.

  The servant then led them through four impressive halls, each with magnificent tapestries that hung from high ceilings, stretching halfway to the floor. By the time they entered the royal meeting room, Xan’s heart was pounding.

  Lord Godfrey sat upon a richly adorned chair, wearing a collared, puffy shirt with red, gold, and blue colors sewn througho
ut its shiny fabric. When he stood, he towered over Brother Andrew by at least a foot. His enormous forehead glistened in the candlelight, distracting from his closely cropped beard and sea-blue eyes that shone with wisdom.

  “My good brother,” the lord said with a smile. “’Tis a pleasure to see you again. It has been far too long since you last visited.”

  Brother Andrew returned the greeting with a blessing and a bow. “I am honored that you remember me, my lord. I wish I could enjoy your company more often, but you know our strict routine at the abbey.”

  “I know it well,” Lord Godfrey said.

  Any moment now, Brother Andrew would introduce him. Lucy had said to be sure to bow. The monk had bowed so smoothly, as though he weren’t at all intimidated by this land baron. Had the monk spent time in his life with important men such as this?

  “And this, sire,” Brother Andrew said, pointing, “is Alexander.”

  Lord Godfrey nodded at him without saying a word.

  Xan tried to bow, going down almost halfway as the monk had done. “Sire.”

  After Brother Andrew and the manor lord exchanged further routine pleasantries and local news, Godfrey invited them to sit on a comfortable sofa.

  “Unfortunately,” Brother Andrew said, “the dark events at Hardonbury Manor have forced me to leave the seclusion of my abbey and seek your assistance.”

  Godfrey’s face drew up in concern. “I hope no evil has befallen your monastery. Or Penwood Manor.” The way he’d emphasized the words “Penwood Manor” seemed odd, as though he were more interested in that manor than in the condition of the abbey.

  “Nay, my lord.”

  “Very good,” Godfrey said with relief. “I often wish I had the resources to spare some guards to protect your abbey. Indeed, my bailiff has been looking into why our finances have been so stretched lately, despite all our prosperous manors. In any event, my defenses are thin. Only last night, I lost the captain of my guard. A bad heart they say; still, his death was unexpected.”

  Xan’s face suddenly grew cold. A dead guard at Chadwick last night—John would revel in that news. He would claim it confirmed all his theories about the Shadow, just as with Father Joseph’s death. This could be a coincidence, of course. But was it possible the Shadow really did visit Lord Godfrey’s estate last night when it walked upon the trail to Chadwick?