Read The Book Without Words Online
Authors: Avi
The Book Without Words (22 page)
Sybil made her way into the church. Alfric was where she had left him, sitting before the altar. When he saw Sybil he jumped up. “Brother Wilfrid came,” he cried.
“I know.”
“The stone,” he said. “He took it. He said he would help you. Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Was I wrong to give it to him?”
“No, Alfric. Thorston is no more.”
“What happened?”
She told him.
“What about Odo?”
“We need to go back and find out.”
T
HE FIRST
crowing of a cock could be heard as Sybil and Alfric made their way back to the old house on Clutterbuck Lane. They went the same way they had come, along the outside of the old city wall. When they reached the house, they found a hole.
“Do you think Odo made it?” said Alfric.
“I suspect it was Thorston,” said Sybil.
They went through the hole, Alfric first, then Sybil. They went up to the room.
The raven was not there. Instead, there was only a scruffy goat, his short brown hair dirty, his horns crumpled, and his dangling beard rather thin. His brown eyes were full of woe.
Sybil and Alfric stared at him.
“It’s me,” said the goat. “Odo. I’m not certain, but I believe Thorston murdered me. But then I woke. Saint Elfleda was standing before me. She had done what she had promised me she’d do: transformed me back to what I used to be. But I’m not what I’d hoped to be. Look at me! I’m a goat! Now I shall never fly. What happened to the book? Perhaps there’s magic in it to transform me back.”
“Odo,” said Sybil, “the monk took it away.”
“And Master? The stone? What became of them?”
Sybil told him.
“Then I am what I am,” Odo bleated.
Sybil put her arms around his neck. “I shall care for you.”
Alfric looked out the window. “There are more and more soldiers,” he announced. “Bashcroft is there, too. They look like they’re getting ready to break in.”
Sybil said, “We can get out through the back.”
There was a pounding on the door.
“It’s time to go,” said Sybil.
Bashcroft allowed the soldiers to smash in the front door of the house. He strode forward, followed by a press of soldiers. They found the ground floor empty. The reeve banged his staff-of-office on the floor and bellowed, “I, Bashcroft, the city reeve, am here!”
There was no reply.
“The steps,” he announced, and marched up. There was no one to be found. There was only Thorston’s bed, the chest, which contained a few pennies, and the work space filled with the alchemist’s apparatus.
The soldiers spread through the house. That is how they found the chests in the basement.
“Open them,” cried Bashcroft. The locks were forced, the lids thrown back.
“Dura
lex, sed
lex!” cried Bashcroft. “The law is hard, but it is the law. And since I am the law, it therefore follows, I must be hard.” He pushed his hands through the soft sand.
Sybil, Odo the goat, and the boy Alfric tramped along a dirt road some miles south of Fulworth. Though the wind was somewhat blustery, skies were blue, the sunlight clean and bright.
“Where do you think we should go?” bleated Odo.
“It was you who said the land called Italy is wonderful,” said Sybil.
“Consider the expense!” said Odo.
Sybil touched fingers to her purse. “I have the Damian coin.”
“So in the end, the poor boy shall provide for us,” said Odo. “But how shall we ever find the place?”
“I may not know anything about Italy,” said Alfric, “but I know how to get there.”
“How could you?”
“Please, Mistress, remember you said it was what you wished. That moment, as we went along the wall, I looked in the book and saw the way.”
Sybil smiled. “Then,” she said, “as long as you don’t use magic to get there, that’s where we should head.”
“Why no magic?” said Alfric.
“Because magic takes what it gives,” said Sybil, “but life gives what we take.” “I agree,” said Odo. And they started off.
On a windswept and deserted island off the Northumbrian coast, Brother Wilfrid and Saint Elfleda stood in the midst of the ruins of the old monastery.
Brother Wilfrid had dug a deep hole in the sandy soil. He looked at Saint Elfleda. She nodded. Kneeling, the old monk placed the Book Without Words into the hole and covered it with earth.
For a moment, the two stared down, and then, side by side, they walked into the North Sea, where the roiling waves washed over them.
The Book Without Words remained where they left it—as unmarked as its pages.
FABLE: I have called this book a fable, a word that came into the English language in the fourteenth century. Deriving from the Latin word
fabula
, meaning a story, its English usage has come to suggest a supernatural tale in which animals speak and act like human beings. A fable is meant to exemplify a useful truth.
THE ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLES: Brother Wilfrid’s description of the events in the year of Thorston’s birth is based on the entry for the year 973 in the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicles.
This extraordinary work, a compilation by many hands, provides the history of Britain from the start of the Christian era until 1154. It is believed to have been originally commissioned by King Alfred the Great.
ALCHEMY: The best way to describe alchemy is to think of it as early science, in particular the science of chemistry. Its practitioners sought a physical and spiritual understanding of the nature of existence. Much of their work focused on the making of gold and the finding of the “philosopher’s stone,” which would restore youth and prolong life. From a modern perspective, alchemy seems full of magic and superstition, but while there were no doubt charlatans in the field, there were many who were serious students of the natural world. While alchemy might have been viewed with suspicion and even fear, it would not have been illegal. Alchemists discovered alcohol, and nitric, sulfuric, and hydrochloric acids. The Book Without Words is sometimes referenced as a source of alchemic knowledge.
FULWORTH and NORTHUMBRIA: Though the town of Fulworth is imaginary, as is the monastery described in this story, the Kingdom of Northumbria did exist. Founded in the seventh century by Anglo-Saxons, it lies in modern-day northern Great Britain, between the Humber River to the south, and the Firth of Forth to the north. As a kingdom, it existed in one form or another until the tenth century.
SAINT ELFLEDA was a real person. Born in 714, she was the sister of King Osway of Northumbria. A nun, she eventually became abbess at Whitby convent and played an important role in church affairs.
For information about the saints referred to in the story, see
www.catholic.org/saints/
1. How does the author establish a sense of time and place in this book? What are the images, the smells, the sounds that come into your mind as you think about Fulworth, Thorston’s workroom, the apothecary’s shop, and the churchyard?