The Book Without Words_ A Fable of Medieval Magic - Avi [41]
It was Bashcroft. He held up a lantern and gazed at Thorston with puzzlement. “I am Ambrose Bashcroft,” he announced. “Fulworth’s city reeve. And you, from your age and likeness, I presume you … are the son of the alchemist, Master Thorston. Very well: I must see your father.”
“I fear,” said Thorston, “you cannot speak to him.”
“Why? I spoke to him before.”
“My father is dead.”
“Dead,” cried Bashcroft. “When?”
“Many years ago.”
“But—I spoke to him today, right here.”
“I assure you,” said Thorston, “my father is no longer living.”
A baffled Bashcroft stared at Thorston. “Are you truly your father’s son?”
“May I suggest,” said Thorston, “it’s the rare man who is not his father’s son. And you sir, why have you come?”
Bashcroft drew himself up to his full girth and thumped his staff-of-office down. “There is gold within this house—made by your father. To make such gold is illegal. Dura lex, sed lex. The law is hard, but it is the law. Since I am the law, I must be hard. I have come to claim not just the gold but the method by which you make it.”
“Then for your pains,” said Thorston, “you are welcome to this.” And he flung the handful of coins at the reeve.
Taken by surprise, Bashcroft bent over and hastily began to pluck up the coins. Once in hand he let his lantern shine on them. He was still examining them when Thorston slammed the door shut and barred it from within.
There was immediate banging on the door. “Wait! By order of the law. I must have all of your father’s golden hoard. Otherwise you’ll be arrested and hanged. All of you!”
19
Thorston went back up the steps, passing Sybil and Odo on his way to the upper room. When he reached it, he suddenly stopped and stood still, as if struggling to remember something.
Sybil came to the top of the steps. “Master, what is it?”
Thorston stretched and yawned. “I am tired.”
“Master,” said Sybil, “of late you have been often weary.”
“It’s the stones,” said Thorston. He sat down on his bed. “They do that to one. But all the same,” he said, “I think—” He turned his head one way, then another, as if looking for something. He opened the Book Without Words, studied it, then went to the chest and looked through it.
He swung about. “Where are they?” he said. “Must I rid myself of you, too?”
Sybil was too frightened to move.
“Give them to me!” he shouted.
Sybil held out her shaking hand. The remaining two green stones lay in her hand.
“Fool!” said Thorston as he snatched the largest, put it into his mouth, and swallowed it whole. For a moment he just sat there. Then he looked at Sybil. “Give me the last one.”
“But, Master …”
“Give it. I don’t trust you.”
Sybil, knowing its importance, hesitated.
“Now!” shouted Thorston.
Sybil, flinching, held out her open palm where the remaining stone rested.
Thorston snatched it up and put it in his hip purse.
“Do not bother to bury me again. I shall return shortly. Safety is in reach.”
Sybil and Odo waited in silence. After a few moments, Thorston yawned, lay back on his bed, clasped his hands over his chest, and closed his eyes. Gradually, his breathing ceased.
“Odo,” said Sybil, “examine him.”
The raven hopped onto the bed and scrutinized Thorston’s face. “He’s dead—again.”
20
When Bashcroft looked at the gold Thorston had just given him, he was dazzled. All he could think was that he wanted more. But he understood he needed help to get it. What could it matter if the soldiers got some? As long as he got most … .
“Look here,” Bashcroft called, with great excitement to the soldiers who had gathered around. “True gold.” By the light of the reeve’s lantern the coins glowed brightly.
“There’s much more,” said the reeve, “in the house. Enough to make us all rich. On the morrow, as soon as the cathedral bells ring for Terce, we shall lay siege to the building, enter, and take the gold. I herewith promise each one of you shall have at least one gold coin for your efforts.
“Remain on guard through