Children of the Fountain Read online

  Harry had told him about the gruff, old officer who had fought at Waterloo before taking up a post at the academy. Even though Matthias had scant knowledge of history he found himself already in awe of the man as he made his way to the lesson after breakfast. He followed his classmates to the fields outside of the castle. There, a dozen or so students were in a line some one hundred yards away from straw targets. Major Wilson was nowhere to be seen and the children started to laugh and joke whilst they waited for his arrival.

  Though the other children were relaxed, some had even brought pistols they were showing off, Matthias had to admit he was somewhat daunted at the thought of firing a gun. A familiar face smiled at him as he approached and Alexander struck up a conversation.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “he’s not too bad. Rather strict, but fair.”

  “Harry tells me he can be tough on people who don’t pay attention,” replied Matthias, “but I guess that’s because the guns are so dangerous.”

  Alexander smiled, “The major has always had a short temper; even at Waterloo he got up Wellington’s nose. How are you finding it?” Alexander’s soft blue eyes glistened and he tilted his head with genuine concern.

  “I’m enjoying it,” said Matthias. The boy’s gentle nature seemed out of place amongst the other children; it was no surprise Matthias had heard some of them making fun of him. That must be why he spent most of his time in the chapel, away from their jibes.

  He was just about to ask Alexander about his story when both of them jumped as a shrill voice snapped, “Attention children!”

  An impressive man strode into view with an unmistakable military bearing. As he marched towards them carrying a great wooden case the students shuffled into a makeshift line. Immediately, however, his disdain became apparent, “What is this rabble?”

  He was tall and built like an oak tree. He had short dark hair pressed tightly against his head and bushy whiskers sat proudly on his face turning his mouth into a permanent frown.

  A boy named George started to speak but was immediately shouted down by the major. “You’ll speak when you’re spoken to, boy!” he roared, before dealing him a clip around the ear. The man strode along the line inspecting each and every one of them down his nose, until finally he reached Matthias and paused.

  “Who are you?” he boomed.

  “Matthias, sir.”

  “And to what do I owe the pleasure of you in my class?”

  “Mr Hardy, sir,” responded Matthias still staring at the floor. “I’ve just arrived at the castle and began my training. I’m new.” He raised his head to catch a glimpse of the man’s war-worn face. It was rough looking with a strong jaw. The eyes seemed to have a life of their own however and darted about frantically as he spoke.

  “Very well,” he said, before turning to his case. He reached inside pulling out a large gun which he held aloft. “Can anyone tell me what this is?”

  Perhaps it was nerves, or a willingness to attain some credibility but Matthias spoke. “A musket?” Next to him, Alexander gave a hissing sound through his teeth.

  “Musket?” The major’s face erupted into a vision of horror, “Musket? This is a rifle boy, don’t you know anything? One lap around the castle, now!”

  He looked across at Alexander who gave a small smile of support before nodding to the castle. Slowly, and with a heavy head, Matthias set off. The castle itself wasn’t too imposing, but because of its location at the top of a steep and well protected hill he had to run around the much larger base of the fortification itself. It took him about twenty minutes and when he got back the major had already distributed some rifles and set up a line of children. He pointed Matthias in the direction of an unattended weapon at the end.

  The other children were already busying themselves with their equipment. The major decided to come over and give Matthias some individual tuition. “Alright lad, well done. Now, have you ever fired a gun before?”

  “No sir,” he said.

  “Not to worry, nothing to it. Now, watch me.” The man took the rifle in his hands and stood it upright, against his thigh. “Firstly, set the hammer to ‘half cock’, you don’t want it going off whilst you’re loading. Like so.” He pulled back the claw like hammer until it gave a solitary click.

  “Next, your charge,” he said, producing a small paper ball-like object from the pouch on the floor. To Matthias’s surprise he placed it in his mouth and bit off the end, “Place it in the barrel and put the ball on top. See?”

  With interest Matthias noted that he hadn’t in fact bitten off the top but merely separated a metal ball that was on top of the charge which he could only assume was the gunpowder.

  “Put your wadding in here, set the rest of the charge, and then take your ramrod.” The major pulled the metal rod from underneath the rifle’s barrel as if he were drawing a foil, before lining it up with the opening and forcing it down with vigour three times.

  “Finally, a spot of powder to the flash pan,” he poured more gunpowder from a metal holder into a space underneath the hammer, “and she’s ready!” He thrust the rifle into Matthias’s arms and chest nearly knocking him off his feet.

  His fingers found the trigger and he held the grip underneath the barrel as he could see the other children doing and aimed at the wooden targets further into the field.

  “Now remember, hold your breath, count to three and squeeze the trigger! George?”

  “Sir?”

  “What do we do with the trigger?”

  “Squeeze, sir!”

  “Good, don’t think I can’t tell when you’re not paying attention. Ready!”

  It was not a question but a command and was swiftly followed with another, “Aim!” Matthias held the rifle tight to his chest. Not knowing what to expect he concentrated on keeping the heavy firearm level and pointed at his target. He held his breath and counted to three.

  “Fire!”

  The explosion hit Matthias’s shoulder like a lead hammer, the noise deafened him and finally the powder in the flash pan blinded him. He dropped the rifle and started rubbing his eyes in pain, he was pretty sure he could smell burning hair too.

  “What the blazes?”

  Matthias could hear an exasperated Major Wilson but he couldn’t see him.

  “That’s no way to treat a rifle! Two laps of the castle, I’ll teach you drop my guns!”

  Matthias, still rubbing his eyes, could make out the blurred shadow of the castle and started to stumble forward. He was helped by the major’s boot connecting with his backside, much to the delight of the rest of the class who broke out in laughter. As he made his way up the path that lead around the craggy hill he heard Mr Wilson beginning to scold them. The lesson had only just begun and already he was desperate for it to end.

  The rest of the afternoon didn’t go much better; in all he managed to fire his rifle eight times, hitting the target not once. He did hit someone else’s target and he also managed to make the entire class dive for cover when he turned to face the major with a question whilst still holding the rifle. That mistake had cost him four laps around the castle and then another two more for hitting Alexander’s target who tried to show him some encouragement but in the end had had to admit Matthias was no marksman.

  When he returned to his room he shared his afternoon with Harry who hooted with amusement. “I’m not particularly good at it myself,” he said, whilst cleaning his boots, “but you sound dreadful. Remind me not to stand anywhere near you the next time you have a loaded gun!”

  Matthias groaned as he sat down on the end of his bed, picked up his boots and started to clean. He had been told that the children were expected to be presentable at all times. This included polishing boots, buttons, belt buckles and also the daggers they each wore around their waist. Tonight was a formal supper, so it was even more important. Matthias would rather have just had some bread and milk and eaten in his room, but the castle was run like the military and ceremony seemed to be ever-present.


  At supper he was placed next to Harry but the two boys, along with everyone else, had to remain standing until all the teachers had entered and seated themselves. In they walked one by one; Mr Butler who had led the physiology lesson; Mr O’Grady sauntered in and settled himself with a thud; Major Wilson and a couple more Matthias didn’t recognise made up the rest of the table until finally Mr Hardy arrived at the head. He remained stood for some moments before finally calling out to the hall, “You may sit.”

  The scrapes of chairs and benches made the master wince as the children all sat down themselves. It was the first time Matthias had seen the whole academy together and he estimated there were nearly a hundred children, some younger than him, others older. Supper was served and everyone tucked in to potatoes and meat, served in a rich broth. It was delicious and Matthias finished his within minutes whereupon he sat back and gave a belch, which raised a chuckle from Harry.

  They finished up with a pudding and then went back to their dormitory and both made straight for bed. After blowing the candle out Harry wished Matthias ‘goodnight’ before the sound of his light snores rumbled in the background. Once again, Matthias lay awake pondering his new life.

  The place got stranger and stranger and he had to keep reminding himself why he was here. True, it was exciting – the combat, the ballistics (even though he was terrible), the exercises and other lessons still to come. It was all a new and wonderful world. But it had been hard so far, today especially. There was no doubt physically he was up to the task. He had already been able to measure himself against the other children and even though some of them were quick and strong he always felt one step ahead.

  That feeling he got inside, almost a permanent inkling of what was about to happen. He had had it all his life but in this place it surged within him in everything he did. Maybe it was the very castle itself; maybe there was something special about it - precisely what though, he was still not fully sure.

  Their customs and procedures seemed foreign to him and he spoke in a clumsy and common manner that none of the other children shared apart from Harry. Indeed at one point a couple of boys had looked to Sophie to translate when he had asked them where they were from. She had gladly assisted and the conversation had continued, but not without Matthias feeling awkward for the remainder.

  That night he found himself roaming the castle, but it was empty. There were no other children and no teachers but in the great mustering hall he came across tables fully laden with food and crockery. Then, a whisper. He wasn’t alone after all, someone was there and they were laughing. He ran outside to the courtyard, but still the cackling voice in the darkness followed. Further and faster he ran around the castle through great halls and chambers, past tapestries and paintings but he could still hear the echoing laughter. No matter how hard he ran he couldn’t get away nor could he turn to face his tormentor. Finally, cornered in a dungeon, his back to the wall he turned to face the shadowy figure.

  In the darkness all he could make out was a great cape, or was it wings? The black silhouette stepped forward and lifted its arms above him. All was black except the flash of white teeth. Was it a grin or was it opening its mouth? With a scream of delight and a surge that lifted him up into the air the creature fell upon him and began to devour his flesh.

  He woke up in a cold sweat out of breath and glad to see daylight. A concerned Harry was leaning over him, “Are you alright? You were screaming.”

  Matthias took some moments to compose himself before he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I had a bad dream. Something was chasing me.”

  Harry gave a weak smile, “I know. It happens to a lot of us; it happened to me, at first. Once you get used to the place you’ll be alright.”

  Matthias got up and made his way to the washbasin and splashed ice cold water on his face. Shaking his head he reached for his clothes and started to get dressed. On went his jerkin and belt along with the dagger. He touched it at his side and somehow got comfort from it. Picking up the papers Mr Hardy had given him with his lesson plans he looked at the calendar which dictated his week.

  “What’s ‘Concealment’?” he said.

  Harry span around from the washbasin with a grin. “That’s my speciality. The art of hiding yourself from your enemy. You’ll have Mr Fraiser. Expect to get dirty, you’ll be out in the forest first lesson I imagine.”

  “In the forest?”

  “Yes,” said Harry, “You’ll begin with simple covers and hides. Then maybe he’ll have you in the mud and leaves and carrying out some training exercises.”

  “Mud and leaves?”

  “It’s a lot more fun than it sounds.”

  Chapter 9

  It took Matthias several weeks to really settle down at the castle. For many nights sleep did not come naturally and more of his dreams were frightening and confused. Dark thoughts of death and violence would criss-cross his mind in nightmarish images. Sometimes he would see the faces of children he knew from the abbey. Sometimes he heard their screams and it was always late at night before he finally drifted away into some form of sleep.

  The days, however, were progressing well. He had improved at combat and had heard mutterings from Harry that perhaps he was to be finally moved up to the senior classes. This came as a relief to him as he was older and taller than his classmates and sometimes felt embarrassed at the ease with which he dispatched opponents in fencing, his personal favourite.

  However, not all of his peers were at a disadvantage. Quite quickly, he got to learn of the other children who possessed out of the ordinary abilities. Several could leap as high as a rooftop, others like Gerard had the strength of ten men. Indeed, in one unsavoury encounter in the courtyard the bully had upturned a local farmer’s cart with one hand just to show off.

  Being bigger, quicker and stronger however held no benefits in Mr Butler’s physiology lessons. With help from his uncle Matthias had been learning to write and had also been practising his reading. The soft-spoken teacher had been kind enough to let him take some of the tests after class in the form of questions and drawings on the board. However, he had struggled. His brain had been unable to retain the scientific language or Latin and without the use of notes to read from it became even harder.

  But Matthias found he had tremendous self-discipline and every night after dinner he spent time with his uncle reading and writing in the little study. Afterwards he’d try and fit some time in with Harry, if he wasn’t busy with his own work, and practise drawing. The sketches came easily and he was surprised at how well he had been able to draw the organs that had been handed out in jars. Matthias had received a commendation for his picture of a heart, but was sadly let down by his labelling of the various parts which he couldn’t remember even after Mr Butler had made him copy them down ten times.

  The castle itself had seemed to change around him as the summer drew to a close. More and more lanterns and candles went up as the days grew shorter. Extra blankets had been delivered to his room along with a thick black cloak which, as with all of his clothes now, was adorned with the duke’s emblem. They trained and learned every day except Sundays, which the children had to themselves. Most would go off in search of fun and adventure in the local village or forest but Matthias often went with Harry on walks and the two had become genuine friends.

  Every Sunday morning Matthias would attend mass with Father James. It seemed strange the two of them all on their own in the great chapel sitting down to offer prayers and thanks, even taking communion. But to Father James, making sure the chapel was up and running seemed to tie in with his need for being useful. The old chapel and the old man gave each other a purpose.

  It was on one such morning that Matthias joined Harry for a walk around the castle grounds. They had wandered a great circle around the orchard and gardens and were just about to turn into the courtyard when they noticed a rider heading up to the gates. Not unusual, but this person was with an armed escort. Four soldiers followed behind as the stranger mad
e his way to the great wooden doors.

  “I wonder who that is?” said Harry, tilting back his head. The two upped their pace as they reached the courtyard.

  As they drew close they spotted the familiar livery of the duke on the soldiers’ chests. The uniforms were bright blue and each man carried a sword and rifle. The horses were powerful specimens and as they dismounted and organised their packs in the courtyard the two managed to catch a glimpse of the stranger who led them.

  A gallant, muscular man dressed in fine gentleman’s clothes that hung on his frame, highlighting his physique. He brushed idly at his black riding boots and started to remove his saddle from the horse. He turned and smiled at them and from underneath his hat Matthias saw straight long red hair. His eyes were a pale green and his face was freckled and pale. He smiled and spoke, “Boys, would you inform Mr Hardy that Mr Cook has arrived?”

  “Yes sir,” said Harry, and the two headed off to fetch the master. They didn’t need to go far however as they nearly ran into him turning the corner of the corridor to his office.

  “Mr Cook has arrived, sir. He said to inform you.”

  Mr Hardy smiled. “Excellent. Did he have any men with him?”

  “Four, sir,” said Matthias.

  “Follow me. You can help with the horses.”

  They walked back to the courtyard and the two gentlemen greeted each other like old friends. Servants were sent for to see to the men’s baggage and Mr Hardy introduced Harry and Matthias as two promising students.

  “Good to hear it,” said Mr Cook. “I’m glad there’s such talent coming through the ranks.”

  “Thank you,” said Matthias, feeling more than a little awkward. He had still not received any of his social training from Lady Taylor, whom he had yet to meet. But he managed to hold his own in polite company and so far, he hoped, he hadn’t offended anyone.