Children of the Fountain (6 page)

“Alexander, meet Matthias. Matthias, Alexander.” Harry didn’t even look up from his food.

“Matthias? An unusual name.”

“He’s from far away.”

“Oh, I see. Anyway, I just thought if you wanted me to join you for lunch, I could perhaps sit here?”

“Not today, thanks.”

The boy’s smile dropped and he looked crestfallen as he walked away to an empty table. As he turned and walked away Matthias noted the other children seemed to ignore him too.

“Who was that?”

“That’s Alexander,” said Harry. “He’s a bit of a strange one. Spends most of his time in the chapel. Doesn’t really have many friends. I talk to him occasionally but only because I feel sorry for him.”

Matthias watched as the boy drifted to an empty table at the edge of the room where he sat down to eat his meal alone before turning back to Harry.

“So what have you been doing today?” he asked, between mouthfuls.

“Ballistics.”

Matthias looked puzzled.

“Shooting?” said Harry. “It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it…rather boring actually. But after you’ve completed your apprenticeship, that’s when selection happens and you become a Journeyman.”

“Journeyman?” Matthias realised in all his eagerness to take up arms he’d forgotten to ask any of the basic questions of how long he would be here and what exactly his training entailed.

“Yes, Journeyman,” Harry took a swig of water from his tankard and wiped his mouth. “Everyone starts their apprenticeships first. Maybe half a dozen or so out of each class complete and then they get to become a Journeyman.”

“You mean it’s not like joining the army?”

Harry scoffed and returned to his bowl. “No, this is an academy. You have to pass all the tests for each discipline – swordsmanship, shooting, physiology, chemistry…”

“Physiology?” said Matthias.

“Yes,” replied Harry, “The study of the body; I know, I’d never heard of it either.”

“I don’t understand. Why study the human body? I thought I was here to learn how to fight?”

“But you are,” said Harry, “and for that you have to understand how the human body works. Where all the organs are; weak spots, veins and arteries. You need to know all this when you’re making kills.”

Matthias looked around. All the children were laughing and chatting away, each with a bowl of broth in front of them. He looked back at Harry who was finishing off his food and wiping the bowl with the bread. “I thought this was like the army?”

Harry looked at Matthias for a split second and then chuckled. “The army?” said Harry, holding another chuckle. “Who told you that?”

“Well, I just thought…Mr Hardy said I would be trained in combat. I thought this was, well, an army?”

Matthias suddenly felt very unsure of himself. What was the word Father James had used?
Assassins
. At the time he had pressed on with his questions about the Legion never asking for an explanation of the word. He hadn’t wanted to admit he had never heard it before.

Harry looked at him and put the last of his bread in his mouth. He narrowed his eyes as if looking for something. “You really don’t understand do you?”

He shook his head before Harry offered a smile. “Finish that and follow me.” Matthias put the last piece of crust in his mouth and followed Harry out of the hall and up some stone stairs. They continued up several floors and then came to a wooden door. As they opened it Matthias was blasted by bright sunlight and blown almost off his feet by a strong wind. They were stood on the battlements of the castle.

Harry leaned over the high stone wall and looked down. Matthias did the same and started when he saw the ground far below. Harry put his arm out to help him back.

“I’ve never been this high before,” snapped Matthias. He crept cautiously to the edge and again looked over. The sight was truly impressive. Below him was the great courtyard of the castle where children scurried around on their way to classes. Two coaches were arriving and further out, stretching all the way to the horizon were fields, farms and forest for as far as he could see.

The bright sun beat down but a harsh wind was also pounding them. Harry had to shout to be heard as he spoke. “This is just a small part of the duke’s lands. Look around you!”

Again his eyes turned to the landscape. The fields swished violently as the wind hit them. Even the forest flickered and changed colour as gales sent the trees first one way and then the other.

Harry stepped close to Matthias and looked him in the eye. “Armies only fight other armies. Our war has no armies,” he shouted.

“Then what are we doing here?” bellowed Matthias, the wind howling at his ears.

“All this is just basic training. Combat, fitness, biology, even etiquette classes for some. All training to separate the chaff from the wheat.”

“So what happens to the wheat?”

Harry stood close next to Matthias and held his shoulders. “You’ll be an assassin,” he said, and offered a strange smirk.

“I don’t know what this word means.”

Harry looked confused and his eyes flickered as if something was finally registering. He nodded to himself.

“You’ll be taught to kill and then be sent to kill. In secret, abroad or at home. In the houses of kings or the cottages of farmers. You’ll usually not know them and you’ll rarely know why. But you’ll do it; without question, without hesitation.”

Matthias’s head rocked back. He knew a little about what an army was, how they worked and what they did. He had even imagined himself in battle but this was something different. The wind had died down now and the skies were darkening. Matthias was still getting buffeted though and he struggled to stay on his feet but he wasn’t sure whether it was the wind causing this anymore.

“Do you understand now?” Harry said.

Matthias nodded weakly. Harry shouted, “Isn’t it exciting?”

And then he started to laugh. Loud and heartily and long and hard. Matthias couldn’t join in and just stood there as this boy laughed and laughed like some crazed clown. After a while they made their way back down the stairs in silence. At the bottom Harry informed Matthias that his next class was to be physiology and he gave him directions. As they turned and parted company, Matthias stopped and asked him one last thing. “Who do we kill?”

Harry looked at the floor for a moment and appeared to turn this question over in his head. “You never know until you’re given the order. It could be a footman; it could be a lord or a lady. You just do it.”

Matthias nodded slowly and looked down the long dark corridor ahead of him to the classroom. As he started to walk he heard Harry whisper, “After a while, I hear you start to enjoy it.”

The afternoon physiology lesson was with Mr Butler – a tall lean fellow who wore glasses and spoke in a quiet, raspy voice. He constantly asked the children to stop murmuring and pay attention but his soft whispers often got lost in the big echoing stone room they sat in.

Around them were skeletons hanging in display cases; on great shelves sat jars of specimens and vials of liquid. At the front Mr Butler was going through all the bones in the human hand using a chalkboard. Once again, Matthias was grouped with the younger children and he felt a little foolish as he answered some of the easier questions. That is, until they had to take a written test. To his embarrassment and the sniggers of others he repeated his answer to Mr Butler.

“I cannot write, sir,” he said, looking down at the blank paper in front of him and the pen sat next to the jar of ink.

The teacher came to a halt in front of his wooden desk. As he spoke his soft face looked saddened. “My dear boy, have you ever been schooled at all?”

“No sir,” said Matthias. “Only Bible lessons at the abbey.”

Mr Butler’s jet black eyes glistened with sadness. His slender features dropped slightly and he took Matthias gently by the arm.

“Come with me. We shall speak to Mr Hardy at once.” Matthias got up and allowed himself to be led to the door. When they reached it Mr Butler turned to the class and said, “The rest of you may begin.” As they left the room the last thing Matthias heard was the turning of papers and the furious scribbling of pens.

They made their way to Mr Hardy's office and Mr Butler wasted no time at all in knocking on the door and letting himself in. Mr Hardy was lost in papers at his desk but he looked up and raised an eyebrow after Mr Butler let loose an audible cough.

“Mr Butler. Matthias. How can I help you?”

“Mr Hardy, were you aware Matthias cannot read or write?”

Mr Hardy straightened in his chair, “Is this true?”

Matthias felt the need to correct, “I can read a little, sir. But… I cannot write.”

Now Mr Butler turned to Matthias. “You can read, but not write?”

“Yes, sir. Father James taught us to read for Bible classes, but the abbey never had writing lessons.”

The physiology master turned to Mr Hardy with a look of concern on his face. “Matthias will need to learn to write.”

“Yes, but maybe this is something best handled by Lady Taylor? Matthias needs to be instructed in the ways of society much quicker than the other children.”

Mr Butler raised an eyebrow and moved closer to the desk. “I don’t follow.”

Mr Hardy waved him away, “Never mind. We can discuss it later. For now we must ensure he is schooled in writing, literature, dance, conversation and etiquette.” At the mention of the word ‘dance’ Matthias visibly stiffened.

The master stood up and closed the great book he had been writing in. “Mr Butler, I will arrange for Matthias to have writing lessons and will take up the other gaps in his knowledge with Lady Taylor. For now, can he take part in your lessons and perhaps carry out some sort of oral test?”

Mr Butler looked flustered - he was clearly not used to making exceptions. He played with his silk neck tie and looked at Matthias with disregard. “This is most irregular. What I teach cannot be learned by word of mouth alone. The Latin, the drawings…”

“I can take care of this. For now, please do the best you can with him. I will place him immediately into private tuition for his writing.”

“Very well,” said Mr Butler, “if you are sure you can find someone to undertake this task outside of academy hours?”

“I have just the fellow. Mr Butler, please return to your class and continue. I shall be in contact. Matthias, follow me.” The master reached for his black velvet coat and escorted out Mr Butler who left looking perplexed. Mr Hardy turned and walked off in the opposite direction. After several paces he bellowed, “Do hurry up!”

For the second time Matthias was led out into the maze-like corridors. They walked for a short time to a part of the castle he had not yet been to - the chapel. It was instantly recognisable by the pews and candles, not to mention the giant crucifix hanging above the ornate stone altar.

It was strange to enter a church within a castle but when they passed through the rather humble doors they were instantly engulfed in a solemn quiet and the wind could be heard whispering around them. Mr Hardy’s voice, however, cut through the calmness when he called out, “Father James!”

Matthias looked around the building which was enormous and was much bigger than the small chapel there had been at the abbey. Gold leaf decorated the vast walls and oil paintings depicted scenes from the Bible, not all of them pleasant. Wooden columns went all the way along to the altar at the front supporting a great arched ceiling; too high for Matthias to see the details of the coats of arms and crests that adorned it.

But dust and cobwebs obscured the grand furnishings and even the floor itself had a fine coating.

A shuffling behind them announced Father James arriving from a door at the back. He extended his arm out to Matthias and held his hand firmly with both of his. “My boy,” he said, “how are you?”

“I am well, uncle. My first day has been interesting.” Father James gave Mr Hardy a quizzical look but the Master of the Sandstone Castle simply raised an eyebrow.

“Matthias has never learnt to write. Is this correct?”

Father James scratched his white beard. “Why yes. But he can read, although it was never one of his great strengths.”

“Did any of the children at the abbey learn to read or write?”

At the mention of the children Father James’s face immediately darkened and looked distant. His eyes fell to the floor and he took hold of Matthias by the arm. “The children were raised in the countryside. They were to leave one day and work as farmers, labourers or, if they were lucky, artisans. They picked a craft, learnt basic reading and arithmetic if required and then they found work when they were old enough.”

“I don’t understand. Surely your father would have made some provision…”

Father James lifted his head slowly. “My father disagreed with my methods and with my faith.”

Mr Hardy shook his head solemnly. “My apologies. I misspoke.”

Father James nodded his head in forgiveness. Mr Hardy looked at Matthias and said, “James, it would be of a great service to us all, now that he has entered the academy, if he could be taught to read and write to a higher level. His opportunities and needs have changed.”

“This can be done. It would please me to spend time with my nephew. The chapel here is filling the rest of my time. It has fallen into quite a state.”

Mr Hardy turned to look around him. “It has been empty several years. But it is very kind of you to offer to maintain it on our behalf.”

“Maintain it?” said Father James. “My dear sir, this is a house of God. I serve this place. I shall endeavour to bring it back to its former glory.”

Mr Hardy tilted his face. “The wind of faith in the castle is an idle one and these children have no time for preparing to meet their maker. They leave it to the old.” He started to walk away.

Father James spoke as he reached the door, “Some of these children won’t get a chance to become old Mr Hardy.”

The master paused and looking down he sighed. His head turned and Matthias thought he was about to speak, but instead he walked out through the dark archway in silence.

Father James waited a moment before gathering himself and turning to Matthias. “Come, let us begin your studies.”

The old monk opened the wooden door at the back of the chapel through which he had emerged, his brown robes flapping as he walked, and they made their way down a dark and dingy corridor to a little room lit by a solitary candle.

It was a small and simple chamber with books in great piles on the shelves, floor and a table. A window was high on the far wall but the shadows on this side of the castle ensured very little sunlight got through.

A movement caught Matthias’s eye and he realised they weren’t alone. On the floor, scrubbing the stone, was Alexander. He immediately sat up, “Hello Matthias.” The eyes shined in the dimness and he put down his scrubbing brush and dried his hands on his tabard.

“Alexander,” said Father James. “What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning the floor. I spilt some ink and didn’t want it trodden around.”

The monk pulled out a chair and sat down slowly, watching Alexander. “I see you’ve met my nephew, Matthias. He’s here to study so I’ll need some time alone with him.”

Alexander looked shocked. “Nephew?”

“Yes. I’ll need some time alone with him. ” His uncle did it subtly but Matthias noticed him signal toward the door. For a moment Alexander did nothing but stare and Matthias thought Father James was about to lose his temper.

Alexander finally nodded his understanding, but kept looking at Matthias with curious glances. Was it fear?

“I beg your pardon. I’ll be out of your way now.” He picked up his bucket and brush and darted away.

Father James started shuffling piles of papers and moved a stack of tomes to reveal two chairs and pulled them over. He moved a pile of dusty manuscripts and placed them carefully on the floor next to a desk under yet more shelves.

“A nice boy, but quite odd. Very pious though, which can only be a good thing. Apparently he’s been looking after this place all by himself.” His uncle smiled and gestured to a seat.

“What is all this?” asked Matthias.

“The previous occupant,” said his uncle, “Father Morant, so Alexander tells me. This was his life’s work. Histories, notes, works of literature; some of them hundreds of years old. All left here and forgotten about. I’ve been looking through them, attempting to bring some order to the chaos. He was a fascinating man.”

Matthias picked up a well-worn book next to him whose title was
A Historie of the Founteyn
. On the front carved in leather was the now familiar duke’s emblem. “What happened to him?” he asked.

Father James lifted his head up from behind a box of papers. “I’ve made some enquiries but nobody seems to know. They say he left many years ago. Though quite why is unknown. In any case he left all this here. It’s interesting what I’ve read so far. Maybe we could use some in your studies? Bring your reading up to scratch?”

“I would like that,” said Matthias, returning the tome to the table.

They spent the rest of the afternoon practising reading and he was surprised at how much he could remember. The alphabet all fell into place and he managed to read a whole chapter from a book of Bible stories although he did need some help with the odd word and some of the longer place names. The lack of sunlight didn’t help but his uncle seemed so happy in his little room surrounded by books that he thought it would be unfair to ask could they move. Besides, it felt good to be around a familiar face and he could recognised the feeling in his uncle too.

As the sunlight all but disappeared somewhere in the castle a bell struck seven. Father James looked up from the volume they had been reading together. “I believe a meal will be served now. Come, I’ll take you to the mustering hall.”

“You know the way?” said Matthias, stretching as he got up; the old wooden stool he had been sat on was far from comfortable.

“Of course,” said Father James, “I spent four years here myself.”

Matthias halted, “What?”

His uncle frowned. “I trained here for four years at my father’s wishes. A long, long time ago.” He sighed. “It didn’t suit me. I chose to follow the path of our Lord.”

They started to walk back out to the chapel. In the corridor it was near total blackness and Matthias had to hold his hand out to the walls to make sure he didn’t lose his way.

“It was a dark time for me,” continued the monk. “I was lost in this place. These walls were my prison. I didn’t belong here.”

They entered the chapel and Father James turned to him. “I chose a different life than your father. But it was a choice Matthias, nevertheless. You have that choice too. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I have chosen.”

His uncle rested his arms on his shoulders. “You will learn in time it becomes very hard to change the mould of your life. The choices you make here, the actions you carry out beyond these walls; doubt me not, will touch your very soul.”

They continued in silence to the hall and Matthias sat down next to Harry who was on his own. Father James went off to another table to sit with some teachers.

Harry turned to him and said, “How was physiology then?”

Matthias looked down at his plate. “It went well,” he lied.

Harry started to eat his supper of soup, cold meat and bread. “Not what I heard,” he said, “rumour is that you can’t read.” He turned to look at Matthias with a hint of a smile on his face. Matthias exhaled and took a piece of bread. It seemed that gossip at the castle moved quicker than horses.

All around children talked and ate. The air was bursting with the sounds of people filling their stomachs. But to Matthias there was only his own very heavy silence.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry, “I can help.” He gave him a friendly pat on the arm. “You’ll need some help with drawing too I would imagine. Mr Butler makes you copy out pictures of organs and limbs.”