“Unbelievable,” muttered Sister Helena under her breath. “Still, I’m sure sleeping in the cold with no food will help you see the error of your ways.”
She dragged him down the corridor, past the classroom and towards the cellar. Opening the door she hurled him inside and slammed it shut. The last sound Matthias heard, was the turning of the old rusty key in the door and Sister Helena’s snorting as she walked away into the darkness.
Chapter 2
Raindrops marched on the abbey roof. From the cellar below the classroom Matthias could hear water trickling above and every so often the growl of thunder. It was cold, so cold he could feel his feet starting to go numb. He cursed Sister Helena and vowed to exact some suitable revenge when he got out.
The abbey was his home but at times like this he almost wished it weren’t. His mind drifted back to last year when three older children had left to take up positions with craftsmen. One of them, Thomas, Matthias had remembered especially well.
Tom had taken a liking to him for as long as either of them could remember. The big brother he never had, it was a sad day indeed to see Tom head off into the service of a nearby farmer with nothing but a smile and the clothes he stood in. As tiredness eventually overcame the cold and draughts, Matthias drifted off to sleep wondering what life lay ahead of him when he too would one day leave the abbey.
Would he end up ploughing fields or herding sheep? And what of Rebecca? A dairy maid? Or perhaps a servant in some manor house? The thought of being apart from her turned his stomach. Better that he make his own fortune and buy them a house together; then they would never be apart.
He had barely slept half an hour when a loud banging stirred him from his dreams. The classroom was located near the narthex, the large forum like entrance to the abbey, and the sound was being made by someone knocking on its great doors. As high as the ceilings themselves the doors required the strength of an elephant to shift and, from the noise he was hearing, Matthias was worried for a second that that was indeed the case. He heard Sister Helena approaching from above, muttering about the lateness of the hour, and imagined her face when a large elephant appeared from behind the doors. It made him smile and forget about the cold just for a moment.
After some murmured discussion Matthias heard the door open fully and then close again. Footsteps grew louder until the visitor and Sister Helena entered the classroom above. A man’s voice spoke in a foreign accent.
“The Bishop was very insistent that I come under the circumstances but I do apologise for the lateness of the hour, Sister.”
“Not at all, Signor. I’m afraid Father James has gone to the village though. I believe to read the last rites to a poor soul.”
“So sad. Still, I am sure we can proceed without him. Is she here?”
“Yes, I’ll just fetch her.”
Sister Helena left the room and headed off to the dormitory. From above, footsteps circled impatiently. Matthias stood up on a chair so he could get a better view through the cracks in the floor. He could see most of the classroom and the robes of the man but couldn’t make out his face. The stranger paced again around the classroom but stopped to inspect a pile of books. Finally the nun returned and from below Matthias could see his sister, bleary eyed, in tow.
“Ah, you must be?”
“Rebecca,” she said, trying to disguise a yawn.
The man stepped slowly across the room towards her. Each footstep was accompanied by the sound of his boots hitting the floorboards and they creaked under his weight.
“Rebecca. Such a beautiful name. I believe we have been looking for each other.”
“You have?” Sister Helena seemed affronted she was not privy to the news.
“Why indeed. I was acquainted with this young lady’s mother, a long time ago. You see Rebecca, she too had a gift. A gift that was sometimes impossible to control. Do you know what I am talking about?”
The man kneeled down in front of Rebecca and Matthias could make out Sister Helena turning her head. “Gift? What is the meaning of this?”
“Hush now Sister, I was talking to Rebecca. Tell me, can you command fire?”
Matthias managed to gently prise up a loose floorboard so that his brow and eyes poked into the room. Rebecca had started to wobble on her feet and even though she hadn’t noticed her brother her eyes told Matthias she was frightened. He clenched his fists in anger. Damn Sister Helena for locking me in here!
“Perhaps,” continued the man, “you need some coercion, no?” His hand dropped to his side and he slowly pulled out a dagger. Rebecca stepped back, her legs hitting a chair and moving it nosily.
“Now look here,” began Sister Helen but before she could finish the man had stood up and was holding the blade at her throat.
“Be still Sister. Now, Rebecca, tell me. Can you command fire?”
She shook her head and took another step back, her hand reaching for the chair behind her. Suddenly there was a whooshing sound like a wind and then an orange glow grew through the cracks all around Matthias. The chair had caught fire!
From below he saw Rebecca look at her hand aghast and the man grinned. “So, you are Margaret’s daughter.”
“Rebecca! Run!” said Sister Helena. She managed to squirm out of the man’s hold and push Rebecca towards the door but then she froze before finally falling to the floor. The man had killed her!
Matthias nearly fell off the stool. Should he move? Should he let the man know he was here? There was nothing he could do - he was locked in the cellar below! Rebecca was stood with her back to the door, her poor eyes now wide and helpless.
“Come here child.” One hand was reaching out to her, the blood red dripping dagger still held in the other. Matthias moved across a floor board so that he might see further along the room. Behind Rebecca the doorway erupted in flames.
As she stood there, framed by fires, the stranger got closer and closer. Finally he reached out and pulled her toward him.
“Hush now,” he said, and held her close. Matthias heard a slight noise, much like a whimper of an animal before the man gently rolled his sister onto the floor at his side. Flames started to climb the walls, the crackling sound now accompanied by leaping sparks. Rebecca lay still.
Matthias felt his heart muscling its way out of his chest. His mouth was open to scream but there was no sound coming out. Rebecca! Footsteps echoed away and the classroom door slammed shut. The only sound he could hear was the snapping of the fires.
He dropped to the floor on his knees and was sick. Tears and spittle dripped to the stones and he let out a guttural wail. He breathed in quickly in short sharp breaths before curling up on the floor in a ball. For minutes he lay there. Then, he started to hear the screams.
It was one or two at first. Matthias presumed they had heard the fire but he was not concerned. He would gladly lay here and burn. Rebecca!
But then more screams. Running, chairs and tables crashing. He looked up, trying to place the sounds. Through the floorboards he could see the classroom was ablaze now and smoke was starting to fill the cellar. Footsteps approached the door above and it burst open. A shadow came crashing through the flames. Then more footsteps; slower, heavier, more deliberate.
Matthias crept back up onto the chair. As he raised himself on his tiptoes he could make out the stranger at the door with a sword in his hand. Albert was stood in front of him, motionless. The flames had started to drift up to the ceiling and the light caught the steel of the blade.
The man lunged forward and grabbed Albert; running him through. After stumbling for a few steps the boy finally tumbled to the floor like a wounded animal and lay still.
Matthias watched the man walk around the classroom. He was looking for something, but Matthias couldn’t tell what. He picked up some books and flicked through some papers and opened a drawer at the front that contained the class register. Fourteen names in all, perhaps now most of them were dead?
“Matthias.” The work echoed down through
the floorboards and seemed to bounce around the cellar. He started to shake and immediately look for a way out. There was none.
“Matthias!”
The man was shouting indiscriminately now, perhaps aware the boy was hiding and trying to lure him out. He went back out into the corridor and shouted again before Matthias heard his footsteps running off.
Above him flames crackled and timbers started to groan. The whole of the classroom was on fire and, by the sounds of it, the rest of the abbey too. He looked around at the cellar once more. The only door was thick and locked. Some tables, chairs and wood were stacked high; once they started to burn he was finished. His only chance was to somehow get through the floor to the classroom above; but how?
Then he noticed the fireplace. Old and dirty at the back it was never used but the chimney connected to the one above and beyond that to the roof of the castle. He made for it and instantly started to shimmy up the inside, legs and feet gripping the dusty and dirty walls where they could.
As he reached the ground floor he saw light coming through from the room above. His mind raced as he decided the best course of action. Out through the fireplace into the burning classroom were the man had been searching and perhaps still was, or to the roof?
In the end he took his chances and eased himself through the fireplace. As he landed on the floor it groaned loudly and he noticed that the boards were beginning to take to the flame. The chairs and desks were upturned and either ablaze already or starting to smoulder.
Rebecca was lying in the middle of the room and Matthias rushed to her. Picking up her head in his hands he looked into her eyes which, until moments ago, had been the brightest things in the world. He sobbed and clutched her head to his stomach.
“Rebecca.”
He laid her head carefully on the floor, stroked some of her hair back out of her face and kissed her on the cheek. A loud crack made him look towards the door frame which was sagging precariously and burning with a hot orange flame. He stood up and made for the window.
As he neared it he picked up a chair leg, looked around once more in case the man was still nearby, and then smashed the glass. It shattered into pieces but large shards remained attached to the timbers.
Coughing and covering his eyes Matthias took one last look at his sister and then jumped up and through the window frame slicing his arms and hands as he did.
As he ran from the abbey for the cover of some nearby trees he looked back and was shocked to see most of the building on the west side now ablaze. Outside the doors were bodies and he could just make out a lone rider galloping away down the path towards the main road.
He stared at the unholy blaze before him. The blackened skeleton of the abbey could be seen through the bright yellow flames that licked the sky. A timber on the east wing roared and gave way, swiftly followed by the rest of the chapel roof. At one point he looked around the grounds for survivors, but found none. Everybody must have been inside. In their beds, or perhaps the stranger had found them.
How long he stood there, watching the fire slowly devouring the once great building, he didn’t know. Finally, only the glowing orange remnants of the timbers smouldered and he sat down on the grass. The sun was rising but it could barely be seen through the thick smoke that hung in the air. Eventually ash started to drift down from the sky like snow. He was alone. There was nobody else here and for the first time in his life he felt frightened.
Rebecca was gone. Albert was gone. The other children, the nuns even Father James. Holding himself tight he thought only of his sister. He recalled her face as the man advanced on her. Why hadn’t he cried out? He should have done something, anything. But it was no use, he told himself, he would have been killed too.
Standing up he decided his only option was to head to the local village. The smoke could be seen for miles around in the dawn’s light he guessed so no doubt some villagers would be on their way to investigate. Indeed he had only been walking for a few minutes down the hard dirt track when he came upon one such individual…or so he thought.
The man was tall and wide as a barrel. The wind blew his long black hair out underneath a tall hat. A great coat was flapping behind him and as he drew closer Matthias saw he had a patch over his left eye. Matthias noted his dusty clothes and presumed him to be a traveller.
“Quickly boy, I am looking for the abbey?”
“It’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“It burnt down.”
“What? When?” his voice was heavily accented, Matthias couldn’t tell from where but it was similar to the stranger’s at the abbey. The one eyed stranger looked up and noticed the great columns of black smoke for the first time. “Good God,” he said, slowly under his breath.
For some moments the man regarded the scene breathing deeply and then finally looking back at Matthias. “I was looking for someone.”
“There’s nobody left. Father James, Sister Helena…they’re all gone.”
“I was looking for a boy named Matthias. Do you know him?”
Matthias froze but his mind raced rapidly. He’d never seen the man before, he was certain of it and the accent meant he was not from the village. Then he noticed a dagger at the stranger’s belt. Silver with a black stone set in the hilt his eyes looked at it then the man’s grizzled face, but it was too late, he’d guessed.
“You’re Matthias aren’t you?”
Matthias said nothing.
“Yes you are. Of course you are. Don’t be afraid. My name is Alonso. It is a Spanish name. I am a mystic like my father before me and I’m here to help you”
Chapter 3
Something in the stranger’s voice told Matthias to trust him. He started to lead the way back to the village, turning once to see if Matthias followed. As the man looked back along the track the last remnants of Matthias’s energy shifted his steps and he started to walk.
His feet dragged, his shoulders hung but he managed to keep his eyes on the man Alonso. The village was only a mile away and normally reachable in fifteen minutes but it took them over thirty to get to the outskirts.
Matthias, who had been silent all the way, had no real recollection of the journey. Walking into the village inn, which was busy serving up breakfast to hungry travellers, he barely noticed a hunched figure sat in the corner turn to look as he took a seat next to the fire. As the Spaniard ordered some ale and meats the figure raised a hooded head.
“Matthias?”
He barely registered the noise; staring into the flames as they licked greedily at fresh logs, his thoughts were only of Rebecca.
“Matthias?” The figure had stood up now and was lurching toward him, with one arm outstretched.
Finally, registering his name, he looked up and gasped. The devil from the abbey? He recoiled as the figure stepped forward to the table, reaching out. In a blur of movement Alonso had upended the table, a sword held to the man’s throat. The inn fell into silence and Alonso pulled back the cowl covering the man’s face. It was Father James.
“Alonso, it’s me!” said the monk. The mystic stepped back, sheathing his sword.
“My apologies father,” said the Spaniard.
“What are you doing here? What is going on?”
Father James sat down next to Matthias. For the first time he noticed his own skin was black and his clothes torn and bloodied.
“What has happened?” said the monk.
Slowly, and not leaving out any detail, Matthias told him. At the part of the story were Rebecca had been killed he broke down and Father James had to hold him, tears dripping from his own cheeks.
The two of them sat alone for several minutes and it was a long time before Alonso finally spoke.
“Tonight you will stay here,” he said, “I will go to fetch assistance. For now, to your rooms and pray rest.”
As the giant man stood up he ducked his head beneath an oak beam attracting the looks of several surprised farmers. He walked to the bar, spoke briefly
with the landlord and then walked over to Matthias and Father James.
“Who are you?” said Matthias, “and how do you know Father James?”
“I serve the duke,” said Alonso.
The monk placed an arm around Matthias and held him; it didn’t occur to him to ask who the duke was. The two went up to a room above the stables, but of course no rest came for either of them. Matthias lay on one of the beds whilst Father James sat at the window waiting for daylight.
The sheets were soft and thick and he pulled them tight around him. He closed his eyes but could still see the burning abbey and then, through the fires, Rebecca’s eyes staring back from an inferno.
For many hours Matthias tried to sleep. Time after time he felt his eyelids close but each time he woke with a start. On one such occasion he felt the cold hand of Father James on his forehead.
“Who was that man, Father?”
“Alonso is an acquaintance of mine from many years ago. We…lost touch it would be fair to say.”
“He said he was looking for me. Who is he?”
“We’ll talk later. For now, try to sleep.”
The hand stroked his forehead, moving a lock of hair across tenderly. Tiredness finally overcame him and he must have fallen asleep as when he next opened his eyes it was dark. The evening had come and with it news, in the form of a maid telling them they were wanted downstairs. They made their way back to the bar room where Alonso was waiting; he gestured to some seats at a table with food. They sat down but neither ate and Alonso informed them that a Mr Hardy was just outside saddling his horse.
The door opened and cold evening air flooded in. The gentleman entered wrapped in a travelling cloak and he was followed by two other men; both armed with swords and dressed in plain black livery.
He sat himself down opposite them whilst the two men remained at the door. He was a handsome man; in his forties perhaps. A big black moustache drew the onlooker’s attention to the centre of a strong face. His smile was warm and genuine and he immediately made Matthias feel at ease.
Children of the Fountain Page 2