The Fire of Eden Read online

Then the lady reached around her neck and pulled off a thin, silvery chain with a golden key. She handed it to Alford, who raised the chest to the monk and placed the key into a keyhole.

  Whatever was in that chest, Brother Andrew didn’t like it. He immediately raised both hands and shook his head vigorously. His angry voice grew louder; the lady responded in kind. Though their words were muffled, she’d said something to Brother Andrew about him not being a good son to his father. For that, he’d seemed to blame his mother, pointing in her face.

  Suddenly the lady’s voice rose loud enough for all to hear: “Just take it, Robert!”

  Brother Andrew pulled the chest from Alford’s hands and stormed off toward his guest room. He must have been quite upset to leave like that, especially in front of so many eyes.

  Xan jogged off toward him. Lucy followed too: “Wait for me, Xan!”

  They caught up to the monk, who was muttering, “I am no prize to be bought, Mother.”

  Xan tugged the hooded cowl of the monk’s black robe. “Brother, wait. Are you all right?”

  He stopped in an instant. “This is a bad time, Xan. I am too distressed to even speak.”

  The chest under the monk’s arm seemed made of sturdy wood bound by iron strips.

  “You mean because of that chest your mother gave you?” Xan said. “Is it something bad?”

  The monk laughed, dissipating the cloud that hung over him. “Nay, son. ’Tis a gift that by almost every measure in this world is nothing short of wonderful.”

  “But—” he started to ask, but Brother Andrew cut him off.

  “But ’tis a gift I gladly would trade for a wish of true value. Some blessings in this life are more precious than gold. As you well know, wealth cannot reclaim those we lose in this world.”

  Xan dared not ask the next question. The monk must have been talking about his father and even about Xan’s poor dead parents.

  “Now please, son. Let me clear my mind in prayer. I am far from the peace I desire.” Brother Andrew trudged off, leaving Xan and Lucy standing alone.

  “How odd,” she said. “Why is Brother Andrew so upset? What is this gift anyway?”

  “I’m not certain,” Xan said, “but I think I might know what’s in that chest.”

  Brother Andrew had grown up the son of a wealthy land baron with many valued treasures. Perhaps his mother’s gift had to do with that—maybe even his father’s greatest possession of all.

  Just then Aubrey’s angry footsteps came pounding on the stones behind them.

  “Lucy, you’re in big trouble!” her brother shouted.

  11

  Fire of Eden

  Aubrey came upon them in a huff. “Not so fast, you two. Father wouldn’t want you running off without me, and you well know it. If I tell him, you’ll be punished for a month.”

  Xan almost objected to this rudeness, but there was Lucy nodding her head in agreement. “I know,” she said. “I was coming right back in a moment.”

  Why didn’t Aubrey trust him? He hadn’t done anything harmful to Lucy or anyone else. And in Lincoln, Lucy’s Father surely hadn’t watched over her this closely.

  The truth was that Aubrey just wanted to tell Xan what to do. He had no idea how much good Xan had done for others. He didn’t care that Xan had a life-changing decision to make next week. And he didn’t care that Lucy might hold a key to that decision.

  At that moment, Giles came running up, followed by Odo limping slowly on his crutch and Brother Bernard guiding John as his escort. As the four of them approached, there came laughter and a voice telling a story: “And that’s when Brother Leo saw that his robe was inside out!”

  That was John’s voice. Could he really be telling Odo a story about Harwood Abbey?

  Sure enough, Odo was giggling and John had a smile on his face.

  “Here we are!” Odo called to them, as they approached.

  John’s expression immediately changed back to sourness. He grunted in pain again.

  “The lady has retired to her quarters ’til supper,” Brother Bernard said.

  “So what do we do now, Bunny?” Aubrey said. “Not another nature hike, I hope.”

  “Not at all,” the monk said. “We must remain close, for soon the prince-bishop’s advance team will arrive. The Captain of the Guard will approve all the details for the royal visit and then ride all the way back to Durham to escort the prince-bishop in time for his arrival Friday evening.”

  “You still haven’t given us a tour of the church,” Xan suggested. “Lucy would like that.”

  “A splendid idea!” Brother Bernard said. “Then it will be time for supper. The prior has given special permission for Odo and Giles to join us in the refectory while you all are visiting.”

  For the next hour, the monk showed them around the main priory church, telling them about the various statues in the corners and the two small side-chapels with their own special altars. Eventually the bell rang to mark the arrival of the prince-bishop’s men. Brother Bernard left the children in the church while he welcomed his guests.

  Lucy knelt by the altar the whole time, but every time Xan drew near, Aubrey came closer too. A little while later, a second bell rang to announce supper. Unfortunately, by the time they got to the refectory after trudging along with Odo and John, the meal already was being served.

  At the head table, Lady Beaumont, Alford, and the Captain of the Guard had taken the seats where the children had eaten yesterday. The dark, hairy-faced captain—still dressed in chain mail—was in deep conversation with Brother Andrew.

  “Aye, Brother,” the captain said in a booming voice. “Our diocese suffers great poverty on the border. The prince-bishop collects his share from the people of Durham, but ’tis never enough to help all the orphans and widows, who constantly plead for more support.”

  Brother Andrew’s eyes were moist, as though the captain’s story had moved him.

  Brother Bernard—sitting at a nearby table—stood and waved to Xan and the others, pointing to the empty seats next to him. “Come, come,” the monk said, his mouth filled with food. Xan led John to his place while Aubrey carried Odo and set him on the bench. On their way, they passed Gilbert and Adela, who were dining alone in a corner of the room.

  As Xan ate, Brother Andrew—who’d barely touched his food—came behind him. “I hope the day has gone well for you all,” the monk said.

  “They have been quite occupied,” Brother Bernard said, spitting bits of bread as he spoke.

  “Good,” Brother Andrew replied. “Because tomorrow you must amuse yourselves without me again. I will be retreating into isolation and prayer for two days to prepare for my ordination.”

  All around the refectory, chatter and busyness echoed. It was just as the monk had said: Grenton Priory and all its activity seemed more like a festival than a place of prayer.

  “There really is too much noise at this monastery, isn’t there?” Xan said. Maybe that’s why Saint Benedict had all those rules about silence—to make it a place where people could reflect, like the peace and tranquility at Harwood Abbey.

  “Exactly,” Brother Andrew said. “’Tis been a tough week, Xan. I need solitude to prepare.”

  “Do not worry about these ones,” Brother Bernard said. “Ol’ Bunny will keep them busy.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Brother Andrew said with a smirk before returning to his seat.

  Lady Beaumont was sitting next to her son, yet she shared nary a word with him the entire meal. How sad—if Mother had been sitting with Xan, their conversation would have been nonstop.

  But when the Prior of Grenton rose from his seat, marking the end of supper, the lady took Brother Andrew by the elbow and gestured for him to follow. He resisted. “What is it, Mother?” His hushed voice was still loud enough for all to hear.

  “Robert, where did you put it?”

  “In my room, of course.”

  Lady Beaumont’s mouth tightened. “You mean you left it unguarded,
you fool of a son?”

  Around them, the other guests had stopped talking and become interested in the exchange. Gilbert and Adela seemed to be paying particularly close attention to the conversation.

  “Do not worry, Mother. God will guard your treasure.”

  She bristled with anger. “There have been thefts around this priory; did you not hear the prior tell me that? And Eden’s Fire is no trifle, Robert. You know what it meant to your father.”

  Then she glanced around at all those watching them. As though by magic, she instantly composed herself with perfect grace and glided from the refectory as if nothing had happened.

  Brother Andrew departed by a side exit, with Xan and Lucy following close behind. “Wait, Brother,” Xan called out. “Will we see you again before you go into isolation?”

  The monk turned to him. “Ach! I almost forgot to say farewell.” He picked up a stone and threw it. “The foul mood of this priory depresses me. I apologize if I seemed rude.”

  “Why are you feeling so low, Brother?” Lucy asked.

  “I am sorry, my dear. My spirit should be soaring in the clouds, but I am in the dirt instead.”

  “That gift upset you,” Xan said. “Your mother gave you that ruby, Eden’s Fire, didn’t she?”

  Brother Andrew jumped in surprise, almost tripping on the hem of his black robe. “Is it that obvious? Perhaps I am as big a fool as my mother thinks.” Then the monk snapped his fingers, as though he’d made up his mind about something critical. “Come, you two. I will show you what this misguided world considers to be true treasure.”

  Xan and Lucy followed him to his quarters, where the abbey’s guests were housed. He hurried around a dark corner and almost collided with an armed guard stationed outside his door.

  “What is going on here?” Brother Andrew said.

  The guard quivered at the monk’s wrath. “Lady Beaumont has sent me to stand watch at your door. But I am to allow you entry, if you will.”

  “The lady? Move aside, man, and let us through. Then go tell the lady you were dismissed from your duties by a very unhappy monk!”

  The guard didn’t move. “My apologies, but I cannot disobey the lady’s orders, you see.”

  Brother Andrew grabbed a lit oil lamp from beside the man and led Xan and Lucy into his room, slamming the door behind him. It was dark except for the lamplight; there were no windows.

  “What will it take for that woman to understand?” he said, flopping to the floor in defeat. But then he reached under his cot, pulled out a wooden chest, and inserted a key in its lock. “This is what the world thinks is most important,” he said, drawing out a bundle from the chest.

  Unwrapping it from its bed of soft cloth, the monk held up a bright red ruby between his thumb and forefinger. He put it near the flame, and its perfect edges caught the yellow lamplight and transformed it into a red ball, casting fiery stars against the walls, floor, and ceiling.

  “Oh!” Lucy gasped, as the spinning rays of firelight sparkled in her eyes.

  “This star ruby—Eden’s Fire—is of such perfection that you cannot possibly imagine its worth. Indeed, Mother means it to purchase my very soul. Do you think it a fair exchange?”

  “She gave this to you as a gift?” Lucy asked.

  “’Tis my inheritance. When I took my vows to God and the Church, my father swore I would never see a speck of gold from my family’s estate. When he grew ill and died three years ago, the only word I received was a letter from my mother’s valet. It arrived two weeks too late.”

  The monk seemed filled with bitterness. His hurt must run deep, having missed his father’s illness and the chance to be reconciled. Having missed the chance to forgive, as Xan wanted to forgive Carlo in Lincoln.

  “Now Mother hopes to use this—this object for which men would kill—to somehow atone for my family’s poor treatment of me.” He cast the ruby back onto its wrappings in the chest.

  “Brother,” Xan said. “Isn’t this like Carlo’s gift to me? Isn’t this a chance to forgive?”

  Indeed, why not use such a gift to do good? Why not embrace his mother with joy?

  “Nay, Xan,” the monk said. “Underneath this supposed gift is a trap. On the eve of my ordination, Mother dangles this temptation before me, if I will but turn from the path of God.”

  “You mean she wants you to return to the world; to give up a life of poverty,” Xan said. In some ways, Uncle William was tempting Xan the same way—to trade the peace of Harwood Abbey for the busy life of a merchant, acquiring worldly wealth. But to what end?

  The monk’s shoulders sagged. “Aye, son. She hopes Eden’s Fire will cause me to forsake my vows and return to her estate to take my place and rule by her side.”

  “To leave God’s service forever?” Lucy said.

  “She will never admit it, but I deem that is very much in her heart. So you see, this supposed gift is but another rejection of my identity as a humble monk of Saint Benedict: a priest of God.”

  With the lid still open, he flung the chest under his cot. Silence fell upon them.

  “Where can a person find such a ruby?” Lucy said, when the quiet had become unbearable.

  “My father got it at Antioch, during the Crusades. Even then ’twas known as Eden’s Fire—named after the Garden of Eden, where the pride of Man led to our Fall.”

  “I know about that,” Xan said. “Adam and Eve put their own desires above God’s plans.”

  “Excellent, son. In the story of the Garden, we learn about pride: the source of our sin. Scripture shows us that because of our pride, God expelled Man from the Garden and set a cherub at its entrance to keep Man out ’til Christ should come and redeem us all.”

  “What’s a cherub?” Lucy asked.

  The monk rubbed at his beard. “The cherubim are powerful spiritual beings who surround God and serve His needs. The prophet Ezekiel described what they look like: they have four faces—one man, one lion, one bull, and one eagle—and four wings, and hooves like a calf.”

  Hopefully, that was only symbolic language. Otherwise, a cherub sounded quite confused.

  “And so God set a cherub at the Garden entrance, keeping Man out by holding a fiery sword that revolved like a spinning, raging inferno. Some call that flame the Fire of Eden.”

  Lucy’s face lit up. “Just now that ruby burst into a spinning flame in the lamplight.”

  “Aye. But, alas, the ruby was poorly named. The real Fire of Eden burned to conquer the pride of Man, but this jewel only stirs up greed and the lust for power. It creates more pride.”

  Just then a commotion sounded in the hallway. Brother Andrew threw open the door and raised a finger as if to reprimand. He found himself toe-to-toe with Lady Beaumont and the captain, along with Alford and several guards.

  “Robert! Don’t you dare try to send my guard away from his post,” the lady said.

  Brother Andrew opened his mouth wide, but the captain raised a palm in the air in peace.

  “Forgive our disruption,” the captain said. “I know you must be anxious to prepare for your holy time. But after your outburst in the refectory, ’tis now known in this priory that you bear something of great value in this room. Lady Beaumont seeks only to prevent a problem.”

  “Listen to him, Robert,” the lady said.

  The monk sighed twice and stroked his beard. “What is it you propose, Captain?”

  “Lady Beaumont and I have agreed to post two guards—one from each of our units—in this hallway to protect your treasure. May we have your permission, Brother? For the good of all.”

  Brother Andrew threw up his hands. “When I leave tomorrow on retreat, I suppose it will not matter to me who is standing in this hallway. Fine—I will allow it.”

  “Excellent,” the captain said, bowing.

  “But,” the monk added. “Before this night is over I would like to speak with you in private.”

  “Of course,” the captain agreed.

  Brother Andrew turned ba
ck to them. “Lucy, go to your room now. Xan, off to the dormitory. When we see each other again, I pray the moment will be a happier one than this.”

  The lady gave a sigh of relief. “At least we know Eden’s Fire will be safe.”

  12

  An Impossible Crime

  Xan awoke Thursday to departing hooves on the dry road. Perhaps that was the Captain of the Guard, returning to Durham as Brother Bernard had said, to accompany the prince-bishop on Friday.

  He popped up in bed; the others were still asleep. John was snoring, but at least he looked at peace—much better than when he was awake, grunting and full of self-pity.

  Slipping on his tunic and shoes, Xan tiptoed down the steps. Perhaps he could catch Brother Andrew before he left on retreat. He crossed the meadow toward the guesthouse where the monk was staying, next to Lucy’s building. He passed a fountain filled with water. The cold wind blew across his face. The hour was so early.

  What was Uncle William doing now—was he awake? Maybe he was setting up his shop for the day or writing another letter to convince Xan to become his apprentice. But he’d found his place with the monks, hadn’t he? To be with Uncle William he’d need to swap the peace of Harwood Abbey for a hectic town and a life trading worldly goods. Yet Uncle William was his own blood, just like Father. And Xan already had made a friend there: Christina. But leaving the abbey meant leaving Brother Andrew and Sister Regina. And Lucy.

  What am I supposed to do, Lord? He whispered an Our Father, just like Lucy would do.

  He passed the royal quarters, where the lady was staying. If Brother Andrew was right, she might be plotting a new plan at this very moment to get him to return home. Yet she must not know her son at all if she thought giving him Eden’s Fire would cause him to abandon his vows. The monk resented that jewel, it seemed, exactly because of how it had possessed his father.

  As Xan approached the guesthouse, a commotion resounded from inside. A woman’s voice—Lady Beaumont—rose above the clamor of slamming doors and clanging iron. “How is this possible?” Her voice was shrill and far from ladylike.