The Emerald Key Read online

  “Please, take this food,” offered Ryan. “I wish I could give you more, but it’s all we have.”

  The parents were so surprised to see strangers acknowledging their plight that it took their confused minds a moment to recognize that food was indeed being offered. The blanket dropped to the ground. Jamie cringed when he saw their bodies. The skeletal ribs of the children showed that it was an effort for them to even breathe.

  The father took the bread with a quivering hand.

  “Thank you, Fathers,” he whispered. “God bless you both.”

  A single tear from the starving mother was all the heart-wrenching thanks the boys needed.

  Ryan nodded. “God be with you and your family.”

  As they moved on, Jamie frowned at the stark landscape that surrounded him. The once lush forests of Ireland had long ago been harvested by the British to build their ever-growing navy. Farms had moved into the open land, but where there were once dozens of vibrant stone homes there now stood only piles of rubble. The homes had been destroyed one by one by the British landlords. The families, unable to pay their rent after another season of failed potato harvests, had been evicted from their shelters. Instead of producing food for the starving people of Ireland, the farmland had been converted into pasture for cattle and sheep, meat that would later be shipped off the island to English markets.

  Many of the displaced peasants had removed bits of the rubble to build scalpeens, tiny illegal stone shelters that now dotted the Irish countryside. Those even worse off for shelter had no choice but to dig holes into the soft ditches that lined the road. The holes were then covered with sticks, turf or whatever else they could find to help protect themselves from the elements. Like a pair of feral kits, two tiny boys peered out from the shadows of a nearby hole. Without any food to give them, all Jamie could offer was a quiet blessing.

  The fog finally began to lift, and the city of Cork materialized in the distance. The city’s great harbour sparkled, its protected waters a gateway to the Atlantic Ocean for the large collection of ocean-going vessels anchored in its waters. Seeing their final destination ahead raised their spirits. Soon they would be together again with the Brotherhood, and the priceless package in their possession would be safe.

  A pleading scream broke their brief moment of tranquility. Nearby, a tiny farmhouse had been surrounded by four English soldiers in crimson suits, each brandishing a rifle. An argument was taking place between the husband and the lead soldier as his frightened family huddled in the doorway. A second soldier took hold of the single ox tied to the side of the house and led it out onto the road.

  The farmer begged the soldiers. “No! Please! We’ll starve without her! How will we plough our field and earn enough for our keep?”

  “You haven’t paid your landlord in almost a year,” replied a soldier, coldly. “He has agreed to take your ox in exchange for rent.”

  The wife fell to her knees in tears, clutching her face in her hands.

  “Jamie, I was wrong,” muttered Ryan as they walked closer. “I do hate them.”

  “Don’t start,” said Jamie. “You know we can’t get involved. Look! I can see the cathedral spire from here!”

  Ryan was about to answer when he saw the father reach for the ox. The soldier with captain’s stripes on his sleeve shoved the farmer hard and the weakened man collapsed backwards, crashing into the stone wall of the farmhouse.

  The mother left her children and ran to him, shouting. “Leave my husband alone!”

  The back of the captain’s hand caught the mother on the side of the cheek as she passed, sending her spiralling into the dirt.

  The captain hovered over the crying couple. “And if you forget your rent again, we’ll be taking your house next.”

  Something in Ryan snapped. Whether it was the memory of what had happened to their parents or simply a moment of enraged insanity, Ryan strode up to the small farmhouse before Jamie could stop him. Ryan approached the captain who had struck the woman.

  “I saw this woman collapse. Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Must have had a dizzy spell, Father,” chuckled the captain, eyeing the young, hooded priest. “Fainted right here in front of me.”

  “Funny how that happens, especially when something crashes into your face … like this.”

  Ryan was deceptively strong for his thin frame. His balled fist crashed hard into the cheek of the captain. The soldier’s head snapped back so quickly that he flew through the air and landed in a heap on the dirt road. The other soldiers hollered in rage at the attack and were on Ryan like a pack of hounds. Ryan elbowed the nearest one hard in the chin and kicked out at the other. Off balance, his boot only grazed the soldier’s ribs and the remaining two redcoats threw him to the ground and began pummelling him.

  “Ryan!”

  Jamie couldn’t believe this was happening! He rushed to his brother’s aid.

  Fists were smashing into Ryan’s face and chest. Jamie leaped at the nearest soldier, tackling him hard and sending him sprawling along the ground. The uninjured soldier left Ryan writhing in pain and turned to face Jamie. Jamie was preparing to defend himself when his head suddenly exploded in a sea of stars. He crumpled to the ground beside his groaning brother. The captain had recovered enough to grab hold of his rifle and club Jamie’s head with its wooden butt, knocking him out.

  “Is this priest the one that attacked me?” he asked, pointing to Ryan while touching the growing welt on the side of his face.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Filthy friar. He should be shot here and now for breaching his own vows to God.”

  A soldier held up his rifle and aimed it at Ryan’s heaving chest. “Just say the word, sir.”

  “You can’t shoot a priest!” interjected a third. “You’ll be damned for all time!”

  The captain paused at the thought and took a moment to contemplate the situation.

  “All right, we won’t kill him.”

  The captain brought his rifle butt down on the back of Ryan’s head, bringing his moans to a sudden stop. The two unconscious priests lay together, as still as corpses in front of the terrified family. The captain looked out to the shimmering harbour and watched a tall ship raising her sails.

  “I do hate to waste a life. My friend is an officer on board the Carpathia. The ship is scheduled to leave this evening for Quebec. What do you say we do our part for God and teach these young priests a valuable lesson? Take the tall one down to the harbour and give him a one-way ticket to Canada.”

  “Isn’t the Carpathia better known as the ‘Floating Morgue’, sir?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I do believe that is the one. That’s why its fare across the ocean is so cheap … so few actually survive the crossing. It should give our good friar here a lot of practice giving the last rites to the passengers who die along the way.”

  While two of the soldiers picked Ryan up by the arms, the third looked into the satchel draped across his chest.

  “No money in here, Captain. Just an old, dusty book. And it’s all written in that nonsense Celtic. Must be a monastery book.”

  “I don’t see any reason to deny him his studies. Perhaps he’ll learn the lesson of turning the other cheek in matters that do not concern him. Now, hurry him down to the harbour. I don’t want the priest to miss his departure.”

  “And what of the other lad?”

  The captain took hold of the reins of the ox, then looked back to the terrified family huddling around their groaning mother.

  “Make sure that you tell the lad everything that has happened,” he shouted back to the family. “This young priest can help spread the word to any other clergy in Ireland who dare intervene in the affairs of the British Empire. His authority is limited to what happens within the church and Heaven above. Tell him Britannia rules supreme everywhere else!”

  Chapter 2

  Coming to, Jamie moaned as he reached for the back of his head. Something in his hair was warm and
sticky. Touching it, then bringing his hand to his face and finally managing to open his eyes, he saw the clotted redness of his own blood. His strange surroundings slowly came into focus. Something cool and damp was pressed against his forehead.

  “Stuart, I think he’s coming around.”

  In the dim light he could make out the face of a woman. She was pressing a wet rag to his forehead. He was surprised to find himself lying on a straw mattress inside a hut. The woman was joined by a man and two children. The vague memory of a fight slowly materialized within the fog of his spinning thoughts.

  “What happened?” Jamie asked the farmer, who was sporting a swollen welt above his eye.

  “There was a fight and you were in the middle of it.”

  Jamie looked to the children. “Is your family all right?”

  The farmer managed a smile. “Aye, for now anyway. I’ve got a bump the size of a Blarney Stone on my head. I’m more worried about you. You took an awful beating. I’m Stuart, and this is my wife, Shannon. Thank you for trying to help us with the soldiers, but I’m afraid, in the end, it didn’t do anyone any good.”

  “They took your ox?” asked Jamie, trying to recall the scene.

  “That they did,” he said, squeezing his wife’s hand. “Now we’re as good as dead. With the potatoes again rotting in the ground before harvest and the loss of our ox, we’ll never be able both to feed ourselves and to pay the landlord his due.”

  Jamie struggled to a sitting position. He glanced around the hut. “Where’s Ryan?”

  Stuart and Shannon looked at each other, unsure of what to say to the young man. Jamie caught the glance and his heart stopped.

  “What is it? What happened to my brother?”

  Stuart nodded towards the village. “The redcoats took him, they did. Said they were going to throw him on the first boat heading to Canada. They mentioned the name Carpathia.”

  “What!” Jamie tried to stand, but the room spun and his legs gave out. Stuart caught him and helped him sit back down on the bed.

  “Easy, lad. Your head took quite a beating.”

  “Ryan’s on a ship heading to Canada?” Jamie repeated.

  Jamie tried to picture all of the implications. His thoughts fought through the fog of his injury.

  “Perhaps I can catch the ship before it leaves port! I can still stop this!”

  Stuart shook his head. “Son, you’ve been lying here all night. It’s morning now. According to what the soldiers told us, his ship left Cork yesterday evening. By now, it’s out on the high seas.”

  “You’re badly hurt,” added Shannon. “Although we don’t have a great deal to offer you, you can stay with us for as long as you need, until you’re feeling better.”

  Jamie again tried to stagger to his feet, and this time he managed to stay upright. He felt as if he was going to be sick and fought the urge to sit back down.

  “Thank you for your kind offer,” groaned Jamie, grimacing as he took hold of Stuart’s shoulder for balance. “And I do need your assistance. Please, help me get to the cathedral in Cork.”

  Stuart frowned. “I can help take you into town if you like. Are you sure you are up to the task? It’s still a good hour walk from here.”

  “Please, you have no idea the importance of my task. I need to get to the cathedral as soon as possible.”

  Stuart nodded to his wife.

  “I’ll drop off the lad. I should be back before sunset.”

  Shannon grabbed a walking stick that was leaning against the wall and passed it to Jamie.

  “Use this in case you feel dizzy again.”

  Stuart steadied him on the other side.

  “And lean on me as much as you like until you get your legs back.”

  As they headed for the door, Shannon ran ahead and grabbed a water skin. She passed it to Jamie.

  “Drink as much water as you can. It will help clear your head.”

  “Bless you,” whispered Jamie through the spinning pain, and the men left the humble abode.

  “This is a disaster beyond imagination!”

  Cardinal Shulls sat at the head of the table and eyed the other participants with a mixture of fury and alarm. The meeting had been convened deep within the secret catacombs that crisscrossed beneath the sanctuary of Cork Cathedral. The aging cardinal was surrounded by seven other grey-haired priests. Together, the eight men comprised the highest order of the Irish Brotherhood. First assembled by Father Francis of Athy over a thousand years before, the Brotherhood was the trusted guardian of ancient Irish knowledge.

  Jamie sat at the far corner of the table. He could feel the thick tension in the air. He and his brother had recently been made privy to the knowledge that a fabulous sacred treasure lay buried somewhere deep in the Irish countryside. Jamie now knew that Ryan’s brash attack on the British soldiers had threatened everything the Brotherhood had been sworn to protect.

  “A disaster!” bellowed the bald, rotund man Jamie knew as Father Liam.

  “The Book of Galway was in that satchel!” exclaimed Father Shamus, the thin friar next to the Cardinal, whose hollow, haunted gaze reminded him of the starving families Jamie had seen in his travels across the countryside.

  The Cardinal leaned on the table and looked to Jamie. “Are you sure Ryan still had the book with him when he was taken away?”

  Jamie shook his head. “I don’t know for sure. According to the family that looked after me, the soldiers said that Ryan could keep the book for his travels before dragging him off to the harbour.”

  Father Liam stood up, enraged. “For almost a thousand years, the Brotherhood has kept that text safe! If we had kept it in Limerick, this would never have happened!”

  “We had to bring it to Cork,” the Cardinal reminded him. “We had good evidence that its location had been discovered by a treasure hunter. It was no longer safe in its old location.”

  “Then why the boys?” asked Father Liam, pointing a finger at Jamie. “Why put a crucial text in the hands of two hopelessly incompetent boys and expect them to cross the entire Irish countryside without incident?”

  Struck by the accusation, Jamie bit his lip and avoided the priest’s glare. “I’m sorry, Father Liam,” offered Jamie. “You trusted us to bring the book safely to Cork and we failed. We have let the Brotherhood down in every possible way.”

  Father Shamus came to his defence. “Jamie, you yourself did nothing wrong. You and your brother have both been excellent students, and I’m proud of your dedication to the Brotherhood. The men at this table seem to have forgotten that the treasure hunter might have been aware of our identities; therefore, we needed a courier who would be above suspicion to bring the Book of Galway to Cork. We thought the family connection between yourselves and your direct ancestors, who wrote the text, would make the trip all the more meaningful for you, so we gave you and Ryan the task. It was unforeseen that Ryan would react the way he did when he saw the soldiers at the farm.”

  “Unforeseen?” muttered Father Liam. “Anyone who ever met the boy could sense the simmering anger bubbling behind his gaze.”

  “Remember Christ in the temple? Anger channelled in a proper way can also be a powerful ally and a source of strength,” countered Cardinal Shulls. “These arguments, however, are irrelevant to our current dilemma. What we must decide right now is a way to get our text back.”

  “Why is the text so important?” asked Jamie, boldly. “I’ve never entirely understood.”

  The Cardinal smiled at the young man’s curiosity.

  “A thousand years ago, Father Francis of Athy designed an ingenious way of keeping his ancient treasure safe. He designed a map that was separated into four parts, and every part was required to decode the exact location of the treasure. The four parts were carefully hidden within the realm of the Irish church. Having four separated parts to the map ensured that the treasure would remain safe should one of the pieces fall into the wrong hands. Father Francis rightfully preferred to have the treasure
remain lost for all time rather than fall into the hands of those who did not appreciate its intrinsic value to the people of Ireland. For a thousand years, no one has laid eyes on the treasure. It was decided long ago that no one would see the treasure again until Ireland is once again ruled by the Irish and the Irish alone. The Book of Galway is one of those crucial keys to the map.”

  “Then what should we do?” asked Jamie.

  “There is only one solution,” said Cardinal Shulls. “We must go to Canada and bring the text back to Ireland.”

  “Whom shall we send?” asked Father Shamus.

  “I’ll go,” offered Jamie.

  “I think you’ve caused quite enough chaos already,” grumbled Father Liam.

  Cardinal Shulls raised a hand. “Wait, Father Shamus. There may be some benefit to sending Jamie. This task must be carried out with the utmost secrecy. We all have important positions in the Church and are known to many in Ireland. For one of us to leave will only raise questions. Jamie, however, could leave the country without notice.”

  “You’re asking us to put the future of the Brotherhood in the hands of a boy?” roared Father Liam.

  “Keep in mind that Jamie is no ordinary boy. Like his brother, he is gifted, finishing at the top of his class in every subject area. And,” continued Cardinal Shulls, “Jamie has another gift many of us lack. He speaks French, don’t you, lad?”

  Jamie nodded. “I spent two years at a monastery in Paris, France.”

  “Canada East is mainly French-speaking,” muttered Father Shamus. “Being able to speak French might help him track down Ryan.”

  Cardinal Shulls turned to each member of the Brotherhood. “Then we need to take this to a vote. Raise your hand if you are in favour of sending Jamie out to retrieve the text.”

  One by one, each of the eight members of the Brotherhood raised their hand.