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Showing posts with label Book Four. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Four. Show all posts

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Book Four, Chapter Two



“This has to be it!”

Melchior was stunned. How had all of these experiments now led to this? He must let Robert know that his own ideas were finally bearing fruit. He looked up at the large clock on the mantle, and realized that the morning had passed by so quickly.

He stood up, having been stooped over for hours, just playing with the vials, trying to achieve just the right mixture for the agar, when it had all just been staring him in the face. And now the realization that it had been working after all, though he had not recognized it, became the thorn which he plucked from his own flesh.

He found his cloak and stepped out of his alchemist’s shop, blinking in the brilliant sunshine, and then turned and went toward the newly rebuilt School of the Arcane Arts and Sciences, which was what had become of the old winery. He was certain to find Robert there, either teaching or puttering about in the library. My, how things had changed!

As he walked briskly, he recalled how, just a few short years ago, he had gotten dragged into the higher echelons of life in the castle. He had been but an apprentice to Falma, keeping to himself, in the back of the alchemist’s study, when that fateful encounter occurred with Frieda, and the innocent invitation to dinner, which became so much more. He looked back wistfully at that time. Now he was recognized by everyone, and he could no longer sneak off to the hall of records, or to Barncuddy’s for a pint. There was no more anonymity. 

But his world now was fuller, and certainly more fulfilling than he could have imagined in those days. What with Craycroft’s ascendancy, the arrival of Robert and Judy; and with Tom and Eustace now arising to positions of power, and how he was now entrusted with much of their teaching. And of his own life; now married, with a young one at home. This was no longer the world of quiet contemplation, and evenings alone with Falma. This was now a world which was ever changing, or “evolving” to use Robert’s expression.

And yet, there were still things done in private, away from the eyes of the world, including the testing that he had been working on, ever since the Earl’s illness. His was the responsibility to develop the first antibiotic. And now, after all this time, it looked like a major breakthrough might be within their hands. This was particularly thrilling because of the ready availability of its source – the common red seaweed, the nuisance of their lives, just might prove a boon to them after all.

He arrived at the entrance to the school, greeted the doorkeeper. “Hello, there, my good man, it’s a fine morning isn’t it?”

“Oh, aye, that it be, sure enough, and how’re ye doin’ this mornin’? And what brings ye about on this fine day?”

“Well, Andrew, I need to speak with Master Robert, if he be about.”

“Ah, well, he was, but I tell ye, he, along with Master Tom and Eustace, took off almost at a run just about a half hour ago.”

“Oh? Were they summoned? And where did they go?”

“Aye, they were summoned. It was by one o’ the pages what works fer Master Craycroft.”

“Well, I thank ye. Did he say were he was going, or how long he was to be gone?”

“Nay, but I could tell this were no ord’nary stroll they were on.”

“Hmm, I wonder…” Melchior pondered what to do. He, after all these years, still did not feel confident with his position. He was unsure whether to go, or to wait. He decided to go, to see if his presence might be of use.

“My good man, I should go, to find out what this is all about.”

“Aye it would seem to me to be the wise choice. Good to see you, as always, Master Melchior, and me best to your Missus.”

“Thank you, Andrew, good to see you, as well.”

“Well,” he thought, “this new thing might just have to wait, until Robert has some time. I just wonder what could be at the source of all this commotion.”

As he quickly strode toward the keep, his mind was occupied with thoughts of years ago. He could not say why, but he remembered his involvement with Tom, and papers to prove his parentage. He remembered going before the council, fearful of their reputation. But, by then, the council was nothing like what it had been, with Reordan gone, and Silvo now acting more like a lost child than a fearsome competitor, he presented Tom before the council. This was at Craycroft’s suggestion. And it was quickly determined that Tom was due his rightful inheritance, but would need someone to oversee such. And it was decided then and there that Melchior himself should become his financial overseer.

But it was not the wealth that changed Tom so much as his new relationships, the new knowledge, and the new responsibilities. Though it seemed that his adopted father, Craycroft, had wished for a son to carry on in the tradition of healing, Tom himself did not seem inclined toward the methodology of the healing arts, and seemed not to have the patience required. Rather, it seems that it was his grandfather’s influence that pulled mostly at young Tom’s heart, and he was determined to carry through with his education, mostly with the study of languages, as well as the Arcane. Now, however, with Robert’s influence he kept up his studies of the natural world. And it was said that Tom himself was writing a book, though he did not speak of it, and would change the subject if anyone asked.

But then there was Eustace, who had become so enamored of all things medical, that he became Robert’s right hand in the clinic. And what a place the clinic had become in so short a time. It was said that the clinic was where one could go to get the best and most reliable advice, and the care was second to none anywhere. And word was spreading so far that persons were now arriving by boat from as far away as Dublin and London, just to seek out the healers.

He was pondering all these thoughts, as he headed toward the keep, not aware that he had been joined by another on his journey. 

“Ah, Master Melchior, you seem to be in a rush…”

“Why, Hermes, you but startled me. I was just on my way toward the keep, to see what it was that took Master Robert, Tom and Eustace from their work at the school. It appears they were called away to Master Craycroft’s, and left with alacrity. I surmise that it is news of some import.”

“Then it would appear that I am in luck, for I was at the clinic, helping with one of the sumps, when a page burst in, asking that Jeanne and Mistress Judy come quickly. For it was Craycroft himself who called them.”

“Ah, well that is where I am going, and I should say that you are more than welcome to come along. I fear that there may be something amiss, that we shall be hearing about.”

“And that I fear as well, Master.”

The two of them hurried along, despite the weather, which made it tempting to dawdle. As they arrived at the courtyard, they were stopped by an altercation. A small crowd surrounded the activity. At first they could see nothing, and could only hear the voices of a pair of angry men, and the wailing of a woman. Then, as they got nearer Melchior could see over the top of the throng, while Hermes scooted his way between the persons surrounding the scene.

There it was, before them, a child lying on the ground, with the two men shouting at one another, and the woman, kneeling over the body of the child, wailing to the heavens.

Hermes quickly got down to the child, to touch, as he had been taught, the carotid artery in the neck. He noticed the pulsations – rapid and regular. Then he noticed the breathing – even, and without effort. Next, he looked at the child’s face, and saw the deformed jaw, and the bleeding from his mouth. Then Hermes did the unthinkable. He turned toward the two men, now silent, and he spoke with startling authority.

“Now, if you two would stop your ranting, and help me get this child to the clinic. I am certain that he does need some care.”

The mother turned toward Hermes, and said, between sobs, “But will they see him in the… clinic… for we are poor folks. And we have nothing… upon this earth… for ye see, we be people of the street.”

“I assure you, good woman, that ye shall receive care, as good as any with monies and land. Now let us get him hence.”

By now Melchior had joined the throng, and between Hermes, Melchior and one of the men, the other having fled, they picked up the youth, and transported him toward the clinic. His mother followed behind.



The throng had thinned out considerably by the time they got to the clinic, and the three who had carried the young boy, brought him quickly into the exam room, placed him on the table. Hermes quickly assessed the damage. There was the deformity of his jaw, and bleeding from inside his mouth, as he had noted earlier, but there seemed to be no other injuries, and he was now beginning to come around. Though not making sense, he seemed to recognize his mother, who had come in behind, and was standing off to the side.

Hermes again took charge, and waved his mother over to her son’s side.

“Now tell me if you are able, good woman, just what happened to this lad.”

“Well, now, young man, we was just meanderin’ in yer  marketplace, see, and I see Julius has gotten in wi’ two men, one of which just, you know, off and knocks him in the face, and then Julius is out cold on the ground. I swear, that’s all I sees of it.”

“Ah, well, is that man here now?”

“Nay, I see him not… but… that man was the other one.”

“And you, sir, can you possibly shed some light on this woman’s story?”

“Why, this lad was but tryin’ t’ steal me bag o’ coins, what I’ve got about me waist. And then this other big man grabs the young ‘un, hauls off, and just hits ‘im hard in the jaw – sends ‘im into the air, then he just hits the ground wi’ a sickenin’ thud. So I start to tell the man that it weren’t none of his business, and that my coins were safe, and then he starts yellin’ at me – calls me names and all, as if I’d done somethin’ wrong. Now is the lad goin’ to be all right?”

Melchior was watching all this, and puzzling about the circumstances. He broke into the conversation.

“Now, good sir, if I might ask you to clarify what just happened. This boy, whom you apparently caught in an act of thievery, was then taken by some man, was struck and thrown to the ground by this other man. Do you know who this man might have been? Was he a local man? And also, it seems as though you are defending this lad. Am I correct?”

“Well, sir, let me explain meself. Now I’m not wealthy by no means, but what I’ve got, I’ve earned, every ha’penny. But I’ve also been where this laddie has been, if ye know what I mean. I’ve been a street urchin growin’ up, and I’ve learned a few things along the way, and one of ‘em bein’ just what it means to be without. And let me tell ye that I prefer to handle me own affairs. And this man, who I’ve ne’er seen, nor do I know his position, just came up t’ me and he stepped into me own affairs, and he makes a mockery of me own ways by his brutish actions. And so I was tellin’ him… But can ye tell me, is he goin’ t’ be all right? I feel so bad fer him.”

“Well, Master Hermes, what think you? What do you find of the lad’s chances?”

“I should say, based upon what I’ve heard and am able to determine, this young fellow has a broken jaw, and has suffered an unknown injury to his head. I do not know how severe, but what I can tell you is that he shall get the best of care in the realm – of this you may be certain. I need only to summon Master Robert hence, and he shall render a learned opinion, and shall see to this lad’s care.”

“D’ ye mean Master Robert, the healer,” his mother couldn’t help asking, “d’ ye really mean that we shall see him ourselves? Oh, my, young man. D’ye hear that, Julius? Ye’ll get t’ see Master Robert, himself, the man what saved Shepperton.”

“Master Robert saved Shepperton?” Melchior seemed puzzled. “My dear woman, whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, sir, have ye not heard? That Master Robert has produced, from his deep magic, that which Shepperton lacked, namely a place and a reputation for greatness. And it was his magic what defeated Reordan, of that ye can be sure. And it was his magic what put Craycroft into power.”

“Ah, my good woman, I do believe that Master Robert would take exception to your view. But you shall see for yourself, for it appears that I must summon him here, to aid your injured son. Though not one to think of his skills as magical, he is nonetheless the most eminently qualified healer in the realm. Of that I can bear direct witness.”

They quickly decided that Hermes and the man, whose name was Chauncey, should stay with the injured youth, and Melchior seek out Master Robert, and so Melchior was off again, going toward the keep.

As he strode off again, his head was awhirl. What a strange day this had already been, and seemed to be getting stranger by the hour. How he had set off in one direction, with one goal, only to be sent off in different directions, with differing urgent expectations. And just what was he to find next?

He went into the keep. The hallways were silent, too silent. There was a definite air of expectation in the place. He went up the stairs, and turned toward Craycroft’s rooms. It remained so still that even breathing seemed noisy, as he found the way to Craycroft’s meeting rooms, and opened the ornate door. Inside, he found a gathering of the most powerful of this new realm, who seemed to be discussing matters of truly great significance, with voices intense, and faces serious.

“Ah, Melchior, good of you to come.” It was Craycroft, seated at the head of the large oval table. “Come, have a seat, here.” 

“Oh, m’lord. I would but love to join you at the table, but, I fear that I have some matter for Master Robert, that cannot wait.”

“Ah, my friend, as it is so often with you. Something I am certain that you cannot control, yet it finds its way through you to those for whom it does matter. Well, here is Master Robert.”

“What is it?” Asked Robert Gilsen. “It seems that I’m about to be called away again. Is that right?” This was something that, even these years away from the hospital, beepers, telephones and pages that went with his old life, he could never escape.

“Alas, it is so, my friend. For you are needed in the clinic, where they have brought a youth who has been injured, badly, and deliberately, and who remains within the capable care of Hermes, but who does request your presence.”

“Well, then, it would appear that duty again calls. Come, Eustace, we’ve got to go see this kid who’s been injured. My sincerest apologies, Craycroft, but my guess is that this won’t wait.”

“As you well know, my friend, it is but for you that I am not called to this. So, go, now, but will you, Eustace, Hermes and Melchior join me later for dinner, that we may continue this discussion?”

“All right, dinner it is.”

So, as the three of them hurried out, Bob and Eustace filled Melchior in as well as each could with the news of LeGace being seen again in Shepperton. To Melchior this news came as the most bitter news imaginable, as he remembered this man, not just from recent years, but also from years before. He brooded over the news and what this could mean. 

“Master Robert,” he said after a brief but tense silence, “I feel that his presence upon this island to be a most evil thing. And I say this with some personal experience. You see, when I was but a young man, working for a lawyer in Ireland, I did have occasion to see the effects that this one man could have upon the personal peace of good, innocent people. And now, it would appear that his own aims upon this isle be of no good, especially as he is now in the company of Master Guarneri. That be two men of incomparable villainy, if you ask me.”

“Well, as usual, my friend, it appears that you have much to teach us – perhaps this evening, at supper. Now here we are at the clinic, and what can you tell us of the circumstances here?”

“Ah, but do remind me to tell you of my discoveries this morning…”

“Discoveries? Indeed. You’re going to have to tell me about them.”

They entered the clinic and found the small group around the youth’s bed, with Hermes, the man, and the boy’s mother all closely attentive to the boy’s needs. Bob was instantly aware of the surroundings, noting what an odd mixture this seemed to be.

“Hello, I’m Robert Gilsen, and this, I assume, is your son,” he said to the woman.

“Oh, Master Robert, you are too kind. You, who have saved our island, and sit with the mighty, have come to our aid…”

“Now, please, madam, I am just a man who has been summoned to the side of your son, who, I am told, has been severely injured.” He glanced at the boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, lying on the hard bed. He noticed the respirations, quiet and unlabored. He noticed the jaw, severely deformed. And he noticed that there was no blood. “Now, Hermes, can you tell me what you have found?”

“Oh, aye, Master Robert, this youth was in the square, out yonder, and was apparently trying to obtain money from this man, named Chauncey, when another man took it upon himself to assault the youth. He struck him very hard upon the jaw, and he threw him down upon the ground. Now the youth’s behavior has been as one whose injuries have left him with some signs of brain trauma.”

“Very well, Hermes. Any evidence of any other significant injury?”

“Nay, Master, none of which I am aware.”

“Hmm, and Master Chauncey, does this fit with what you know, as well?”

“Oh, aye, m’lord, it does.”

“And you, madam, is there anything else that you would like to add to this description?”

“Nay, m’lord. Only, are ye able to help him?”

“We shall see, we shall see, my good woman. Now, I would ask for a couple of things. First, if you could get the otoscope set up, Hermes. And next, if you, Eustace, would obtain some of Falma’s analgesic drops, and then, if you would summon Judy, and have her come here.”

The woman spoke up, saying, “d’ye mean the Mistress Judy, the one whose touch comes from the angels?”

“Oh, aye, good woman, none other,” said Eustace, and then he was off to the other side of the room, where he found a small vial of Falma’s analgesic drops, and brought them over to Bob, who by now was intently examining the boy.

Hermes, meanwhile, was setting up his odd apparatus, which only bore the slightest resemblance to an ‘otoscope’.

“All right, then, Hermes, get your candle lit, and bring that over here.”

When all was ready, Hermes held the candle, and adjusted the mirrors, so that Robert could look into the eyes and ears of the youth, who whimpered a little, as he had his head turned. Then, after another ten minutes, giving the drops some time to be absorbed, Bob carefully felt about the boy’s deformed jaw.

“Now, come over here,” he said to Hermes, “and look here at this jaw, and tell me what you think. Is it broken, or just dislocated?”

Hermes then carefully felt the youth’s jaw, and noticed the bulge in front of the ear, but then felt further down, where there was a step-off. Next, he felt the other side of the jaw, and noted that it was smooth, with no step-off, and without the lump in front of the ear.

“I would say that he has both a fracture and a dislocation, Master.”

“And I would say that you’re right, my observant young apprentice. And what about his neurological state? How would you describe that?”

“I would say that he is confused, though he does not appear to have any kind of focal neurological defects. And you noted no bleeding from the ears, nor any abnormalities of the eyes, nor any defect of hearing.”

“Which would suggest what?”

“That his head injury is most likely not to result in permanent impairment.”

Bob was quite thoroughly impressed with this young apprentice. What he had done was to describe accurately what had happened to this young man, using the tools that he had at his disposal, mainly his eyes, ears and hands. And with nothing more sophisticated than knowledge, had defied medical teaching that went back countless centuries.

“I am most proud of you, son,” was all he could say at the moment.

Melchior was watching all this, and, as usual kept his admiration to himself.

Then Robert turned to the woman, and explained to her what had happened to her son, telling her with simplicity and compassion what would likely happen to him. And when he told her that there seemed to be no permanent damage, and that he was expected to make an excellent recovery, she broke down sobbing.

“Oh, what they say is true, m’lord. It is true that ye hold in yer hands the power to heal, and that ye did save Shepperton.”

“Now, my good woman, I’m sure that what you have heard is merely exaggeration. For you see before you an ordinary man, who does have some knowledge that is beyond any that we have around these parts, but as to any special powers, I think not.”

“Oh, but sire, you have touched my son, and he shall be better, of that I am certain…”

“Ah, but we are not there yet, not by a long shot, and it would appear that your son will need at the very least a special diet, and care here at our clinic for a month or more.”

“But sire, we have nothing with which to pay for this stay…”

Chauncey then added, unexpectedly, “I shall take care of the expenses, it would only be right. Now I know nothing of the other man, but this child was injured on my account.”

Melchior thought again of just how unexpected this whole thing was turning out to be. He could not help but feel that there was more to this tale, and that it would involve more persons, and would lead to even more strange circumstances in the future.

It was then that Judy was let in to the clinic. She appeared as she ever did, but Melchior noted that, with her swelling abdomen, and healthy glow, that she was even more radiant than ever. She smiled as she came in, came over to Melchior, and gave him a warm hug, and asked about Jeanne, and their young child.

“Ah, m’lady, they are well. And I extend her good wishes to you, as well.”

Judy smiled again, and she took Melchior’s hand, laid it on her abdomen. “Here, feel, it is in greeting that she kicks. Now I can’t really say for sure, but I believe it is a girl, and she’ll look to her uncle Melchior for education.”

Melchior smiled in answer, and over across the clinic room, Robert was beaming.












Tuesday, December 13, 2011

The Prologue to Book Four



“Tell me, what do you mean that he’s back?”

This was certainly terrible news. For there were few names to make his insides revolt like the name of Antoine LeGace. 

“It is merely this report I received today, m’liege.” Cayman took out the small scrap of paper, and handed it to Craycroft.

It was a small piece of cream-colored paper. On it were the words, written in that script, so familiar to Craycroft.

                                      A.LeGace has been spotted
                                      near Killiburn. He was accompanied
                                      by Master Guarneri, and another.
                                      Make certain that Kerlin has been notified.
                                                        Drachma

For a moment, Craycroft stared and said nothing. The last four years of relative peace had seemed like a dream come true. And now, out of the horrors of his memory, came this news that somehow, he knew, signaled the beginning of disaster for them all.

“Well, Master Cayman, if you could summon Kerlin and Proust. And also call in Eustace and Tom, have them meet me within the hour, and I shall meet with all of you to discuss this matter.”

“Aye, m’liege.” With that he was gone.

Craycroft was left alone to ponder the meaning of this newest message. He got up, went over to the window, and looked out toward Croftus Knob, now with the beauty of springtime making its mark on the island. The fields were plowed, the snow was gone, except in the highlands, where it crowned the peaks with the brilliance of the morning sun. Then he made a decision, which was sure to affect them all.

He summoned one of the pages, and was glad that it was Aaron.

“Now, Aaron, I’ve a task for you, and this one is really urgent. Go, find Jeanne, tell her that I need her here now. And if she is with Judy, have her come too. I shan’t bother Master Robert right now. Do you understand the importance?”

“Of course, m’lord.”


“Well, then, be off with you.”

This was the first communication from Drachma in many months. That itself spoke of the disturbing nature of this message. As was usual with Drachma, though, there was so much more that was not said, but rather implied, within that small note – the fact that it was sent by carrier pigeon, and who was this other person? And the fact that he insisted Kerlin be notified – it all spoke volumes.

He sat down, poured himself some brandy, and he thought. He pondered what had happened these past four years, the events and the people behind the events. What of Master LeGace? Drachma had warned him that this man would yet bring trouble to Shepperton, and that it was he that could bring about the destruction of all that they now held dear. When Craycroft asked how he knew, Drachma had given him the most cryptic of answers:

“He is one whose appearance is human, but whose actions speak otherwise, as if possessed by a demon.”

So, as they all went about the building up of Shepperton, in the back of his mind, and also, he surmised, in the back of Drachma’s, there was the threat of this man and his machinations. The real problem was that no one knew either his motivation or his whereabouts. There had been the occasional stories from travelers, of this vile scoundrel, whose entire persona was wrapped up in the most vicious of rumors, yet who managed to escape the clutches of the law. And the stories were all consistent, and told of a usually solitary figure, who had a cane, but did not need it for walking, who took whatever he wanted, and if the persons who had whatever it was that he desired were reluctant, they would then feel the point of his sword, hidden within his walking stick. And of the few who survived his assaults, they all gave the same description, of the devil himself.

It was Kerlin who came first. And as he was let in, Craycroft pulled out a chair, poured him some brandy, and had him sit down.

“Well, my friend, I am sorry to have troubled you, but I just received this note, sent from Drachma via carrier pigeon, and I shall let you read it, then tell me what think you of it.”

“Very well, M’lord.” 

Craycroft handed him the small note. Kerlin studied it, then closed his eyes, lost in thought, and then spoke.

“M’lord, this could truly be disastrous. I know that Master LeGace is now with Guarneri, formerly in the employ of Lord Vincente, but lost from our knowledge for years. Now of this I had heard on several occasions, from my contacts in Ireland. As to the other one referred to in this note, it is purely conjecture on my part, but I fear that his identity is likely to be one of the king’s men.”

“Then it is likely as I feared as well. Nay, this is not good. This is evil incarnate.”

Monday, November 14, 2011

Book Four, Chapter One



Staring over the bow at the darkening sky, there was no mistaking what he saw ahead. Not one of those common blows so often endured around these channels, but rather, the one in front promised to be ever so much more. Diego Monteverde knew that this was one that he could not just sail around, and there was no land to be seen to the East or the West.

The first mate knew not to make polite talk when his Captain had that dark browed, iron jawed look, but he could see the storm ahead as well, and knew that his responsibility was to the ship.

“Me apologies, Captain, but that is one fierce gale ahead, and I was thinkin’ that it might be easier if we but turned the ship around, and went South toward those islands that we’d seen back down the channel.” He pointed toward the Southeast. “At the very least, we might avoid that storm’s real fury.”

“As you say, Vittorio, that is not your ordinary springtime shower ahead. But to turn around, and to lose another two day’s worth of sailing with this favorable wind. I know not.” Diego thought about it, and said, “All right then, mate, tell the pilot to slow the pace, with some tacking, and let us go down and study the maps that we have. Maybe there is land ahead, to the West that we might be able to use as a shield.”

So, below the deck, the two studied the map of this part of the channel, Vittorio indicating their current position, and Diego frowning, as he calculated the options. There appeared to be only one island somewhere to the Northwest, and the option of turning around became suddenly less attractive than ever.

“So, what you’re saying is that the wind is blowing straight up the channel now, and we’d have to tack along this line towards these islands down here. And even if we were to make it close enough to set anchor, that our chances of making it by nightfall are less than you’d even give me an even ha’penny’s chance of …”

“Aye, me Captain – you’ve about read it right.”

“Well, then, Vittorio, you know my feelings.  I’ll go talk to the pilot. You go tell the lads to prepare for the storm of their lives. They should make certain that all our provisions are secured below. We could at the least make good time while we still may.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Behind the great wheel he found the pilot, looking as he always did. Nothing ever seemed to bother Ramon – not while he was steering his ship. His steady demeanor was one that Diego had come to count on through the years.

“Ramon, what do you think?”

“About the storm? Could be a rough ride. Are ye goin’ to have me run through it, then?”

“Aye. We really have little choice. I’ve been checking the maps with Vittorio. There’s an island off to the Northwest, but that’s the only land for many miles around.”

“Well, I was thinkin’ that the western side o’the storm was the more treacherous, but that’s from here. What it’ll bring, who knows. D’ye want me then to go more t’the West?”

“Aye. But I’ll stay here with you…”

He saw that the men were beginning to carry the loose things off the decks, to the relative safety below. This was to be their first real run into bad weather on this voyage, and the men had become a little complacent with their things.

“Ah, me Captain, I see that ye’ve given the orders. Well, we’ll see just how stout they really are then, shan’t we?”

By now the Captain’s attention was already elsewhere. Staring off toward the Northwest, intently, trying to discern what it was so close to the horizon. He was trying to determine whether his eyes were playing tricks on him, or whether there really was something.

“Tell me, Ramon, off toward the horizon, do ye see anything a bit off, or unusual, or is it just my own eyes? That’s not on the map, but I swear, I see something.”

“Oh, aye, Captain, there be something. I too see it. But what, I cannot say. If it be land, it’s likely an island. If not, then I know not what to think.”

“Well, head for it then. I shall send one of the men up top, see if he can determine, before this weather comes down upon us, just what it is that we’re looking at.”

A seaman was sent up to see what he could find. He shouted down to the Captain, “Looks like land in the distance… about thirty degrees Nor’west!”

Diego signaled him down, and when he was back, he asked, “Could ye tell if it was an island?”

“Nay, Captain, I could’na tell. But what I could see, told me that it’s at least somethin’ big.”

“Well, me mates, then that would be where we shall be headed. So get ye ready, for it’ll be a rough one.”


Ramon and Diego could now tell the storm was coming, as the waves got bigger, and the smell of the air, carrying that electrically charged ozone essence got their attention. The wind shifted, bringing the first of the rain, starting as just heavy drops, but soon, as the weather changed, the storm hit with its full fury. The ship was tossed about in the massive waves. The pilot kept their course ever Northwest and toward the island of mystery. It became too dark to see, and the wind was now a gale, with the rain howling sideways. The sails were straining, and threatening to tear, in the ever-shifting direction of the wind. Wordlessly, the pilot signaled his Captain, who nodded, and gave the order, then the sailors took down the sails, expertly, quickly, knowing full well that they were putting their ship at the will of the storm.

For the next hour they were thrown about mercilessly at the whims of the sea and the storm. Their rudder holding fast, but their progress could not be known to anyone on board the ship. And then with one savage wave coming from the starboard bow, came that awful crashing sound that signaled the mainsail had given way, and was just dangling, and swinging dangerously above their heads. 

The Captain and the pilot just looked at one another, each with his own sense of unease. If anything, the storm grew fiercer, and the feeling aboard the ship began to reek of panic. There was nothing that any of the men could do, and they all knew it. They were down below, just riding out the rocking, chaotic motions of the ship. Ramon had long since tied his wheel down, and went with the captain below, knowing it was safer there, than to risk being thrown overboard. 

The men were not easily thrown into panic, but a number of them prayed fervently to the saints for protection. Diego knew that his mainsail was now useless, and they were in the middle of the channel, with little hope of help, let alone any chance of repairing his ship.

While he sat, looking out at his men, with nothing to offer, he saw her beckon to him. There she was, this incredible waif of a girl, who looked fearlessly at him, her hair blowing freely in the wind. She looked to be no more than nine or ten, and there arose from her face a subtle glow, which permeated the dark confines of the ship. He got up and went toward her. She waited for him in the corner, and as he came close, she spoke, her voice resonant with age.

“Come, Diego Monteverde. I shall show you what you must do. This is not to be your last voyage, but it shall be the last for your men and your ship. You may do what you might, but this you may not change. Come up with me.”

He found himself following her instructions, as if he had no will to refuse. The two of them climbed back up the narrow stairway to the main deck. What he was able to see told him of the savagery of the storm, with the forward mast now down, and the railing shattered, as the ship rocked in the waves like a piece of driftwood.

“Now, tell me, what must I do?” He shouted to the girl, across the howling winds and rain.

She spoke as one completely unafraid, not shouting, but simply stating, “Follow me.”

In the darkness, the wet, the wind of the storm, Diego followed her into the sea.




At the dock, now called Reordan’s Folly, the children looked out and saw the storm. To them this was just the perfect time to be fishing. It was annoying to have a girl with them, but that was a minor irritation to Rupert, who had been charged with her safekeeping. 

“Oh look, ye’ve got one,” she squealed. “I think it’s a big ‘un. Oh yes, it’s a big ‘un, fo’ sure.”

Rupert felt the pulling on his pole, and realized his sister was right. If they could land this one, they would all have fish tonight. For the next few minutes Rupert enthusiastically fought the fish on his line, and then when he had gotten it close to the dock, his cousin Ian helped him land the fish. This was the largest fish he had ever caught. What a sight for his mother this was going to be tonight. Yes, they’d have fish for certain tonight. He deftly worked the hook out of the mouth of the flounder. His father would be proud, but he was away, doing his duty. He looked again at the expertly carved hook, made from a seashell. He was proud of the way he had used the twine, and made it strong. 

When he looked up, he noticed that his sister was no longer with them. He saw her down by the end of the pier. He told his cousin to watch his pole and not to let the fish get away, and he took off at a run.

“Alexandra!” he called, “Wait! What d’ye think ye’re doin’? Where ye goin’?”

When he caught up to his sister. He found her gesticulating wildly, pointing out to the sea, toward the storm that was racing toward them.

“What is it? What d’ye see?”

“There! See, out there in the clouds… Don’t ye see it?”

Rupert knelt down and looked to where his little sister pointed.

“Nay. What d’ye see?”

“The light. In the cloud, and the sea. Oh, and now it’s gone.”

It began to rain. And very soon the children were soaked. Rupert didn’t know what to think or say. When they got back to the pier, they found to their dismay that Ian had let their fish escape. In a pique, Rupert gathered his fishing pole, and stormed off toward home. Alex and Ian trudged along behind. The rain was now blowing sideways, and they had a hard time even keeping their feet. 

When they got home, they found that Mum was not the least bit pleased with any of them.

“Oh, may the saints preserve me. Now is this what ye’d call takin’ care of your little sister?”

“No, Mum…”

“Well there’d better be a good explanation, me young man.”

“Rupert caught a fish!” Put in Alex. “It was a big ‘un. It was this big.”

“Well, then, if ye caught such a fish, where is it?”

“We had it up on the dock, and then Ian let it go back into the water.”

And so, as Peggy got to wiping off the children with some dry cloths, they related the tale of their afternoon’s adventure, with Rupert’s heroic catch, and Alex’s running off the pier in search of her mysterious light.

“Why I’d say that you had quite an afternoon.” She said, as she held on to Alex, and rubbed her dry. “Now what of this light?”

Alex pointed in the direction of the sea. “Oh, Mama, ‘twas a light, out in the ocean, inside the storm.”

Peggy nodded, still holding her little girl. “And what did it look like t’ye, little lady?”

“The light was blue, and was moving like this,” she gestured with her hand.

“And now it’s storming, and ye’re in here safe. And even though we didn’t get that fish, we have each other, no?”

The smells from the kitchen caught Rupert’s attention.

“Mum, is that meat pie that ye’re makin’? It smells so good that maybe ‘tis a good thing that I did’na bring home that fish.”

“Indeed it is. You see, I saw Clarice today, in the market, and when she saw me, she gave me some of her pieces of mutton, said to be sure to feed her own and my little ones today.”

“And how was me ma?” asked Ian.

“Fine as ever,” Peggy lied. How much do you tell a five-year old boy? How much could he possibly understand?



It was later that night when Alex crept over to her brother’s bed.

“Rupert,” she whispered, “it’s there again.”

“What is?” He whispered back. “Now that you’ve got me awake, what d’ye mean?”

“The light. Come over to the window, and look out… Ye can see it now.”

“Where?”

“There, over by the sea”

He looked, and for just a brief moment, he could see a blue light, flickering, before it went dark.

“Did ye see it? And now it’s gone dark.”

“Aye, sis, I did.”

As he then headed back to his bed, Alex stopped him.

“Now, don’t ye think we should look?”

“And why would I think that?”

“That was no normal light. I think that we’re meant to go see it.”

Rupert stared at his sister. He could see her eyes, glistening in that faint sheen of moonlight. This was not the look of a frail little girl. This was the look of someone who meant what she said. So Rupert got down quietly from the windowsill and the two of them got another lantern, and lit it. They got their cloaks, still wet from the evening’s storm, and without saying another word crept out into the still of the night.

They made their way carefully down toward the pier. The night was clear and cool. Far off they heard the howl of a wolf. Rupert held the lantern. The patter of their feet on the wooden planks was almost drowned by the sound was of the waves, still crashing hard after the storm. There was no one else about this night.

Alex led the way, certain of where she was going. Her brother followed, one step behind. When they got to the end of the pier, they got down, creeping carefully on to the slippery rocks, then over to the large boulder. Alex climbed up onto the boulder, and then she looked out to the sea. Not certain of what she was looking for, but sure that she was to be here. Rupert came up beside her, and looked as well.

“D’ye know what ye’re lookin’ for?”

“Nay, I don’t. But I know it’s out here somewhere. I know that as sure as I know me own name.”

He wondered what happened to the little sister he was to protect. These were not the musings of a six-year old girl.

“There, down there. I see it. It is somethin’. Come on brother, come wi’ me.”

When they got down to the water’s edge they could see the dark form. Fearlessly, Alex ran down. When she got to the shape, she turned to her brother, and shouted, “It’s a man! He’s cold and wet, but breathin’. Help me get ‘im up to land.”

The two children pulled hard, but found it impossible to move him onto land. They did manage to turn him over, and then, timing their efforts with the crashing waves, got his trunk onto land, but his legs were still in the cold water of the sea. They noticed that he was yet breathing, but would not arouse. He did not seem to be bleeding, but they could tell little else.

“Tell me, what do we do now? We canna’ just leave him here…”

“I’ll stay with him. Brother, ye go get some help.”

“Leave ye here, outside? Oh, Alex, I canna’ do that.”

“Brother, we’ll be aw’right. I know this to be true.”

Again, this was not just his sister speaking. There was something else, someone else.

“Well, I’ll leave this lantern with ye. I can see aw’right wi’ the moon. I’ll go to get help.”

Rupert thought about this, as he left, and somewhat against his better judgment, decided that he’d go to his uncle’s house, and summon help.

When he got to the house of Malcolm, he was out of breath. He rapped on the door, and waited. He rapped again. Malcolm came to the door, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Rupert! Whatever are ye doin’ here at this time of night? Is your mother all right?”

“Oh, aye, sir. Me Mum’s fine. But there’s been a man who’s washed up on shore, and could use yer help.”

“Ye say there’s a man washed up? Is he alive?”

“Oh, aye, sir. Or he was when I left him. But he’s not doin’ any good, no good at all.”

Malcolm then went back in, got his cloak, an extra blanket, a lantern, and woke his own son to come help. The three of them then hurried down the way Rupert led them. They went quickly down to the pier, then over the rocks down to the shore.

They found there a most unusual sight. Sitting on the rocks was Alex, cradling the head of the man from the sea. She was singing to him, singing gently a song that she knew, a song of the sea, the waves and the breezes of spring.