Carthis, 1900
"Ezra! Come here for a moment," James Parker called out to his eldest son.
"Yes Father?" the 18 year old man said respectfully.
The older man stared at his son, obviously pondering a great weight. "Let's take a walk, shall we?" he suggested, grabbing his coat to guard against the cool Highland breeze.
Ezra obediently followed suit, falling in step next to his father. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again. "Do you like Carthis?" he asked.
Ezra stared at him for a minute, surprised by the question. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly.
"You can answer honestly, son," James said reassuringly.
"Well. it is not that I don't like it sir. But it is so very far away from everything. I want to do something besides." he trailed off, realizing that what he was about to say might sound disrespectful.
"Besides be a crypt keeper?" James finished for him. "Don't worry, I know exactly how you feel. When I was your age, it was the same for me."
"Really?"
"Really. And when I was 18, just like you are now, my father took me aside and told me one of the greatest family secrets."
"What kind of secret?" Ezra asked eagerly, liking the slight feel of intrigue he was sensing.
But James frowned at his excitement, hoping to remind Ezra that this was serious. "Son, what I'm about to tell you can never be repeated to anyone outside the family. It is a secret, a secret as old as our history on Carthis itself. Do you understand?"
Ezra nodded solemnly. "Of course Father. I'm sorry if I didn't seem to be taking this seriously enough, it is just new for me."
James' face relaxed slightly. "I know it is son, just remember how important it is. The Parker's play a very unique role in the Vespasian legacy."
"I don't understand Father," Ezra interrupted. "We're just the crypt keepers."
"That is all we are right now Ezra, but it is not all we are destined to be. We have a destiny that goes beyond our vocation."
"You're confusing me Father."
"It is a prophecy that was made six hundred years ago, one that has been passed down through every generation."
Disappointment shadowed Ezra's face. "Oh," he said dully, wondering if his father knew what he was talking about.
"Don't be so discouraged!" James rebuked. "We are destined for great power son, an ability to change and control humanity itself."
Suddenly interest reappeared on the younger Parker's face. "Power?" he repeated.
"Yes, power."
"What do you mean? How are we going to get this power?"
"I have told you almost all that I can son. The rest of the answers can be found in the scrolls."
"And where are the scrolls?"
"Ah, now that is the question. The scrolls were brought to Carthis by the original Vespasian brothers six hundred years ago, just after the Knights of the Military Order of the Temple of Solomon were disbanded in Europe. The brothers hid them on the'sland, knowing people would come looking for the secret knowledge of the knights and not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands."
"And no one has seen them since?"
"No. No Parker has ever seen them."
"Then how are we supposed to fulfill this destiny?"
"Vespas gave only one clue as to the scrolls resting place. He said that the one who found the scrolls would gain absolution from his sins."
"What does that mean?"
Finally James sent his son an exasperated look. "If I knew that, I would have found them years ago and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I'm sorry Father," Ezra said contritely.
"It is all right son. But I'm counting on you to be the one to fulfill the Parker destiny."
Carthis, 1908
It had been eight years since Ezra had first learned about the scrolls. He had had little time to search for them while working his land and learning the crypt keeper's trade from his father. But his father had recently died and he was now free to spend a good chunk of his time on the search.
For weeks the search had yielded nothing. All the monks had heard of the scrolls, but they were decidedly tight-lipped about them. It was unlikely any of them actually knew where they were, but still the only answer he could get out of them was that it is the task of the Vespasian monks to protect the scrolls. It made him want to scream in frustration, "But I'm the one who is supposed to make them come true, you don't have to keep them from me!!" Somehow though he knew that wouldn't really help his case any.
Then one sunny August day he was absently going through the monastery archives. He was doubtful that he would find anything new, but it was the only place he could find any information. Despite the monks' reticence to help him, they had grudgingly allowed him access and he was making use of it.
After hours of sifting through papers and dusty old books, he was ready to give up-not only on the archives but on the search altogether. If the scrolls had ever existed, they had been hidden so well that no one could possibly find them after six hundred years of secrets. With a resigned sigh, he rose from his kneeling place on the floor, intent on going home.
That was when he found it. There, nestled between two books and shoved toward the back of the shelf was what looked to be an old letter box. His curiosity aroused, he pulled it off the shelf and sat down on the floor once more to open it.
The first letter he found set his heart pounding. It was dated 1347, less than 40 years after the monastery had been established. Not only that, it was addressed to the bishop in Glasgow and signed by Vespas himself.
With trembling fingers he sifted through the rest of the papers in the box. Something inside him told him that if was going to find whatever it was he was looking for, it would be here.
When his fingers touched the bottom piece of paper, a tingle ran up his spine. This was it, he knew it. Pulling it out of the box, he started to read it, struggling to translate the Latin.
"To the Parker heir," it began,
"This letter is written to the one who will find the scrolls. In finding this letter, you're already halfway there. Many of your ancestors have tried and failed. Now I will give you the final key you need to unlocking the mystery of the scrolls.
From a line of goodness, the evil shall rise To that which hallowed vellum prophesies From their words will his power flow And right from confession his strength shall grow
Once you find the meaning of the riddle, you will find the scrolls themselves.
Vespas"
Ezra stared at the riddle, his brow creased in puzzlement. What on earth could it mean? Suddenly he realized that the little room which had earlier been alight with sunshine was growing dark. Glancing outside, he saw that the sun was well across the midday sky, indicating that it was time to hurry home to his wife for supper. Shoving the paper into his pocket, he carefully placed the box back in its place on the shelf and left the small room. There would be time to work on the riddle later.
Over the next few months, Ezra spent every moment of his spare time working with the riddle. The lines about the scrolls giving power were easy to decipher, but somehow he knew the clue was in the final line, the one talking about confession. He knew it was there, but he couldn't figure out what it meant.
Then one day he was looking at it for what seemed like the millionth time and it all fell into place. His father's clue had been that the one who fulfilled the scrolls would receive absolution from his sins. The clue Vespas had left talked about confession. The scrolls must be hidden in or near a confessional.
Amazed not only that he had finally unraveled the mystery but that it had taken him two months to do so, Ezra simply leaned back in his seat, unable to speak. This was it, he was so close he could taste victory at last.
There was one problem remaining however-there were multiple churches on the'sland, how was he going to figure out which one hid the scrolls? That was a problem for tomorrow though, today he was going to bask in the sweet feeling of success he felt from surmounting the highest hurdle.
Finding the church turned out to be more difficult than he had thought. The first place he had looked had been the monastery chapel. He had spent a whole week there, going over every stone in the confessional wall and in the wall of the building around it. Several times he thought he had found a crack that might lead to a secret chamber, only to be disappointed.
Then he looked into the two other churches on the'sland. One of them was too new to be the one spoken of in the riddle. That left only one possibility-the Chapel of Souls.
It made sense when he started to think about it. Legend had it that the knights had brought the scrolls with them to Carthis despite orders or against the will of God. They had given up their own souls to preserve the prophecies contained within, and then they had hidden them in a Chapel of Souls that could also protect the mysteries.
On October 27th, he began truly looking in earnest. His first question was if the confessional was original-a short talk with one of the monks and a close examination showed that it was. Then he started running his fingers over the walls, searching for a secret hiding place. Inside the booth itself, he closely examined the small bench, wondering if perchance there was a hiding place beneath it. Indeed, the bench was hollow, but it was also empty.
For two days he spent nearly every waking hour in the Chapel, going over every inch of it with a fine tooth comb, and yet he found nothing. Then on the third day his luck changed.
He had decided to take a step back and look at the area of the chapel as a whole. While sitting there, he pulled out the riddle and examined it once more. This time he noted the use of the word right in the last line of the riddle. Perhaps that was a clue within a clue, and he should look on the right hand side of the booth.
Moving in, he realized that he had never thought about the floor. Kneeling on the ground to the right of the confessional, he perused every crack, looking for a trap door or a loose stone. Finally after three hours he found something promising.
Sticking his fingers in the small crack, he slowly pulled a stone out of the ground. It was hard work, and for one brief moment he thought about asking someone to help him, but then he brushed it off, wanting to keep the secret of the scrolls to himself.
With a final heave, he pulled the stone up and set it down on the floor next to him. Grabbing a torch from one of the sconces on the side of the nave, he peered down into the hole. What he saw amazed him.
There was indeed a little cubby down there, less than six feet squared. Inside the tiny room was a oaken box, the wood having a golden patina that comes with age. Lowering himself into the hole, he lifted the box with shaking fingers and placed it up on the floor of the chapel. Then he pulled himself up beside it and opened it up.
There they were-the scrolls that were his destiny. Opening it up, he was surprised to see that it had been written in Old English, not Latin. Well, that would make his life easier.
As much as he wanted to read the scrolls right now, a quick look out the window confirmed that it was time to go home before someone started wondering where he was. Quickly lowering the stone back into its resting place, he gathered the scrolls in his arms and headed home, depositing them in the barn while he went inside for dinner.
It was hours before he managed to get back out to the barn to read the scrolls. In the dark of night with only the flickering light of the lamp driving away the shadows, the prophecies began to work their power, transforming future into present. A man who had once been loving and kind became even more obsessed with the promises mentioned in the scrolls.
"So it is true," he whispered to himself as he read the last line. "I'm destined to build the Centre, to achieve greatness."
He frowned as something else occurred to him. "But what of this terrible price that is mentioned? Do I really want to risk.?"
He paused to think for a moment about the world the knight had lived in. At that time, everything had been seen has having some sort of unseen spiritual effect, even the manner in which one dressed. Perhaps this warning was something Addecius had believed to be true, but it was not something he needed to worry about. That had to be the case he decided. After all, it was about time he caught a lucky break without there being any strings attached.
Ezra could hardly wait until morning to tell his wife about this. Surely she would be as happy as he was. Somehow though, this was not the case.
"Elizabeth, don't you see?" he asked, surprised that she just did not seem to get it. "This is our chance to make a name for ourselves, to finally get away from Carthis."
"And why would you want to get away from Carthis Ezra? This is our home, we were both born here," she reminded him, gesturing broadly as if to encompass the entire island in her embrace.
"Don't you want something different, something new?" he argued, pressing her for an answer.
"No," she said flatly.
"And what about the prestige that would come if we were able to build the Centre?"
"Power and prestige are meaningless if they are all you want Ezra. You need to have more in your life than that, or you will be destroyed slowly from the inside out."
He finally gave up, realizing she was not going to change her mind right now. "Think about it and we will talk about it again tomorrow," he told her and walked out of the house.
Ezra went about his daily chores, pretending like nothing had changed. Inside however he was a very different man, and this came out once again when he went to the barn after supper to look at the scrolls again.
As he re-read them, a devious smile crossed his face. "I will have all the power I ever wanted," he murmured. "Power to change things, to change people, even power to control people. yes, it is exactly what I always wanted."
But tonight his transformation was witnessed by someone else-his eight year old daughter Angel. "Papa is scaring me," she whispered as she saw the darkness creep across the face she loved so much. "Those papers are making him different. I want my Papa back."
Determined that she was doing the right thing, she waited until he had returned to the house, gathered the scrolls up in her arms, and took them to her room where she hid them in her little cubby where she kept her doll so her older brother wouldn't hurt it. Covering it back up, she crawled into bed and fell fast asleep.
The next day after she had done her chores, she came back in the house to hear screaming. "What have you done with them?" her father roared, fury blazing from his eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" her mother replied defiantly.
"I'm sure you don't! I'm talking about the scrolls you miserable, ungrateful hag! I offered you all the things you could ever want in the world and your thanks is to take the scrolls from me to keep it from happening!"
"All I ever wanted was your love," she retorted. "If you honored me half as much as you do those old rags of yours, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now!"
The next sound the little girl heard was that of flesh hitting flesh. "Is that what you told yourself?" he said, his voice dangerously low. "Did you think that if you got rid of the scrolls that I would love you more? You fool! Now that I know what you're really like you couldn't pay me to love you!"
"I don't know what you're talking about Ezra!" she pleaded. "I didn't take the scrolls from you, I didn't!"
"Liar! Where did you put them?" he demanded, hitting her again.
"I didn't. I don't know," she whimpered.
"Then you will just have to pay," he snarled and began beating her. again, and again, and again, until the only sound Angel could hear was the soft sobs coming from her limp form.
Finally he stopped and stared down at where she lay huddled into a ball on the floor. "You disgust me," he said harshly, walking out of the house and slamming the door shut behind him.
Slowly Angel left her hiding place. "Are you all right Mama?" she asked tentatively, the fright evident in her voice.
"Little one!" her mother exclaimed, using her own pet name for her daughter. "How long were you standing there?"
"Papa hurt you Mama," the little girl whispered, clinging to her mother.
"Oh my poor baby. your papa's not the same anymore, he's changing on the inside."
"It was the scrolls, was not it Mama? That is what made him hit you."
"Yes baby it was. wait, what do you know about the scrolls?"
"I saw Papa reading them last night. They put a mean look on his face so I took them."
Elizabeth reached a trembling hand up to stroke her daughter's face. "You're a very brave little girl. Do you think you can do one more brave thing for Mama?" she asked.
"What is it Mama?"
"Can you hide the scrolls somewhere that Papa will never find them again?"
"Will it make him love us again?" she asked, the insecurity shining from her eyes.
The question brought fresh tears to the mother's eyes, and she drew the little girl close to her heart. "I don't know baby, I don't know. but maybe it will at least help him be a better man, more like he used to be."
"Okay Mama, I will do it," Angel answered, standing up and going to her room.
When she got there, she paused for a moment before getting the scrolls out. Something told her this evening would have a bad ending. She needed Father Theo's help. Getting out her pad and pencil, she drew a sketch of herself holding her doll. Then she grabbed both the doll and the scrolls and moved toward the monastery as fast as her little legs could carry her.
"Hello Miss Parker," Father Theo said kindly when she approached him at the confessional. "What are you doing out so late tonight?"
"I'm here for confession," she told him softly.
"And what do you need to confess that drives such a little thing from her bed?" he asked, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement-amusement which vanished when she answered him.
"It is not me," she told him. "It is Papa."
"What has Papa done?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"He's found the scrolls," she said softly.
A feeling of dread spread from the pit of his stomach to the rest of his body. "The scrolls?"
"The ones with evil things written on them," she explained, giving him the answer he had known she would.
"How do you know he found them?"
"Because I saw him with them."
"What was he like when you saw him?"
"He was mean and angry," she said, confirming his fears. Now to ask a question he wished he didn't have to.
"Does he still have them?"
"No, I stole them. I hid them someplace special, now I need you to hide the clues so he won't find them."
"What about you Miss Parker? Are you carrying something?"
"It is my doll and a pretty little pouch, and a picture I drew of myself. They're to remember me by," she said with a sweet smile on her face that made him sick to his stomach. He knew what she meant, he just hoped she was not right.
"What do you mean?"
"Just hide the scrolls, remember Father Theo."
"I will Miss Parker, I will," he said solemnly, taking the little leather pouch from her and setting the doll down gently on his desk. "Now you get home and go to bed, it is past your bedtime," he admonished.
After she left he stared at the pouch, wondering where he could hide it. A perfect place occurred to him-the reliquary beneath the altar. Hurrying down the stairs, he opened it up and slipped the pouch inside. Then he went back upstairs and placed the key to the ancient lock inside little Miss Parker's doll.
When he was done, he sat there for a moment, debating. Finally his conscience could take it no longer and he began to write. He was just getting to the good part of the story when he heard something downstairs. Hastily folding the letter and slipping it inside the binding of his Bible, he stitched the cover together and turned toward the door just in time to see Ezra Parker come storming in.
"What can I do for you Ezra?" he said, his congenial tone belying the pounding of his heart.
"Don't you play innocent with me too old man. I know she's been here," Ezra growled.
"Who do you mean?"
"You know exactly who I mean. That little brat of a daughter of mine. She came to you with the scrolls, hoping you would hide them for her. Well she won't be any problem to me anymore, and now you're going to hand them over so her plan will fail anyway."
"What have you done?" the priest asked, appalled.
"I have only done what had to be done to make sure my destiny was fulfilled," he said dismissively. "Now where are they?"
"If you think I would give them to you after what you have done, after seeing the person the scrolls are turning you into, you're wrong," Theo said defiantly. "Your daughter gave them to me hoping that it would save you from yourself. I'm not going to let her down, even if I ca not save her."
"If you don't tell me old man, it will be the last secret you keep," Ezra threatened.
"Then I will go to the grave keeping it," Theo said determinedly, rising from his seat and staring down the other man.
Ezra held his gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to flinch. When he saw that the priest was serious, he shrugged and said, "As you wish. here, let me help you out there." With a mighty shove, he pushed the priest out the window. Turning from the scene, he walked out of the church without a backwards glance. Two hours later he left the island of his birth, the night sky still lit up with the flames dancing around his house.
"Ezra! Come here for a moment," James Parker called out to his eldest son.
"Yes Father?" the 18 year old man said respectfully.
The older man stared at his son, obviously pondering a great weight. "Let's take a walk, shall we?" he suggested, grabbing his coat to guard against the cool Highland breeze.
Ezra obediently followed suit, falling in step next to his father. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again. "Do you like Carthis?" he asked.
Ezra stared at him for a minute, surprised by the question. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly.
"You can answer honestly, son," James said reassuringly.
"Well. it is not that I don't like it sir. But it is so very far away from everything. I want to do something besides." he trailed off, realizing that what he was about to say might sound disrespectful.
"Besides be a crypt keeper?" James finished for him. "Don't worry, I know exactly how you feel. When I was your age, it was the same for me."
"Really?"
"Really. And when I was 18, just like you are now, my father took me aside and told me one of the greatest family secrets."
"What kind of secret?" Ezra asked eagerly, liking the slight feel of intrigue he was sensing.
But James frowned at his excitement, hoping to remind Ezra that this was serious. "Son, what I'm about to tell you can never be repeated to anyone outside the family. It is a secret, a secret as old as our history on Carthis itself. Do you understand?"
Ezra nodded solemnly. "Of course Father. I'm sorry if I didn't seem to be taking this seriously enough, it is just new for me."
James' face relaxed slightly. "I know it is son, just remember how important it is. The Parker's play a very unique role in the Vespasian legacy."
"I don't understand Father," Ezra interrupted. "We're just the crypt keepers."
"That is all we are right now Ezra, but it is not all we are destined to be. We have a destiny that goes beyond our vocation."
"You're confusing me Father."
"It is a prophecy that was made six hundred years ago, one that has been passed down through every generation."
Disappointment shadowed Ezra's face. "Oh," he said dully, wondering if his father knew what he was talking about.
"Don't be so discouraged!" James rebuked. "We are destined for great power son, an ability to change and control humanity itself."
Suddenly interest reappeared on the younger Parker's face. "Power?" he repeated.
"Yes, power."
"What do you mean? How are we going to get this power?"
"I have told you almost all that I can son. The rest of the answers can be found in the scrolls."
"And where are the scrolls?"
"Ah, now that is the question. The scrolls were brought to Carthis by the original Vespasian brothers six hundred years ago, just after the Knights of the Military Order of the Temple of Solomon were disbanded in Europe. The brothers hid them on the'sland, knowing people would come looking for the secret knowledge of the knights and not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands."
"And no one has seen them since?"
"No. No Parker has ever seen them."
"Then how are we supposed to fulfill this destiny?"
"Vespas gave only one clue as to the scrolls resting place. He said that the one who found the scrolls would gain absolution from his sins."
"What does that mean?"
Finally James sent his son an exasperated look. "If I knew that, I would have found them years ago and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I'm sorry Father," Ezra said contritely.
"It is all right son. But I'm counting on you to be the one to fulfill the Parker destiny."
Carthis, 1908
It had been eight years since Ezra had first learned about the scrolls. He had had little time to search for them while working his land and learning the crypt keeper's trade from his father. But his father had recently died and he was now free to spend a good chunk of his time on the search.
For weeks the search had yielded nothing. All the monks had heard of the scrolls, but they were decidedly tight-lipped about them. It was unlikely any of them actually knew where they were, but still the only answer he could get out of them was that it is the task of the Vespasian monks to protect the scrolls. It made him want to scream in frustration, "But I'm the one who is supposed to make them come true, you don't have to keep them from me!!" Somehow though he knew that wouldn't really help his case any.
Then one sunny August day he was absently going through the monastery archives. He was doubtful that he would find anything new, but it was the only place he could find any information. Despite the monks' reticence to help him, they had grudgingly allowed him access and he was making use of it.
After hours of sifting through papers and dusty old books, he was ready to give up-not only on the archives but on the search altogether. If the scrolls had ever existed, they had been hidden so well that no one could possibly find them after six hundred years of secrets. With a resigned sigh, he rose from his kneeling place on the floor, intent on going home.
That was when he found it. There, nestled between two books and shoved toward the back of the shelf was what looked to be an old letter box. His curiosity aroused, he pulled it off the shelf and sat down on the floor once more to open it.
The first letter he found set his heart pounding. It was dated 1347, less than 40 years after the monastery had been established. Not only that, it was addressed to the bishop in Glasgow and signed by Vespas himself.
With trembling fingers he sifted through the rest of the papers in the box. Something inside him told him that if was going to find whatever it was he was looking for, it would be here.
When his fingers touched the bottom piece of paper, a tingle ran up his spine. This was it, he knew it. Pulling it out of the box, he started to read it, struggling to translate the Latin.
"To the Parker heir," it began,
"This letter is written to the one who will find the scrolls. In finding this letter, you're already halfway there. Many of your ancestors have tried and failed. Now I will give you the final key you need to unlocking the mystery of the scrolls.
From a line of goodness, the evil shall rise To that which hallowed vellum prophesies From their words will his power flow And right from confession his strength shall grow
Once you find the meaning of the riddle, you will find the scrolls themselves.
Vespas"
Ezra stared at the riddle, his brow creased in puzzlement. What on earth could it mean? Suddenly he realized that the little room which had earlier been alight with sunshine was growing dark. Glancing outside, he saw that the sun was well across the midday sky, indicating that it was time to hurry home to his wife for supper. Shoving the paper into his pocket, he carefully placed the box back in its place on the shelf and left the small room. There would be time to work on the riddle later.
Over the next few months, Ezra spent every moment of his spare time working with the riddle. The lines about the scrolls giving power were easy to decipher, but somehow he knew the clue was in the final line, the one talking about confession. He knew it was there, but he couldn't figure out what it meant.
Then one day he was looking at it for what seemed like the millionth time and it all fell into place. His father's clue had been that the one who fulfilled the scrolls would receive absolution from his sins. The clue Vespas had left talked about confession. The scrolls must be hidden in or near a confessional.
Amazed not only that he had finally unraveled the mystery but that it had taken him two months to do so, Ezra simply leaned back in his seat, unable to speak. This was it, he was so close he could taste victory at last.
There was one problem remaining however-there were multiple churches on the'sland, how was he going to figure out which one hid the scrolls? That was a problem for tomorrow though, today he was going to bask in the sweet feeling of success he felt from surmounting the highest hurdle.
Finding the church turned out to be more difficult than he had thought. The first place he had looked had been the monastery chapel. He had spent a whole week there, going over every stone in the confessional wall and in the wall of the building around it. Several times he thought he had found a crack that might lead to a secret chamber, only to be disappointed.
Then he looked into the two other churches on the'sland. One of them was too new to be the one spoken of in the riddle. That left only one possibility-the Chapel of Souls.
It made sense when he started to think about it. Legend had it that the knights had brought the scrolls with them to Carthis despite orders or against the will of God. They had given up their own souls to preserve the prophecies contained within, and then they had hidden them in a Chapel of Souls that could also protect the mysteries.
On October 27th, he began truly looking in earnest. His first question was if the confessional was original-a short talk with one of the monks and a close examination showed that it was. Then he started running his fingers over the walls, searching for a secret hiding place. Inside the booth itself, he closely examined the small bench, wondering if perchance there was a hiding place beneath it. Indeed, the bench was hollow, but it was also empty.
For two days he spent nearly every waking hour in the Chapel, going over every inch of it with a fine tooth comb, and yet he found nothing. Then on the third day his luck changed.
He had decided to take a step back and look at the area of the chapel as a whole. While sitting there, he pulled out the riddle and examined it once more. This time he noted the use of the word right in the last line of the riddle. Perhaps that was a clue within a clue, and he should look on the right hand side of the booth.
Moving in, he realized that he had never thought about the floor. Kneeling on the ground to the right of the confessional, he perused every crack, looking for a trap door or a loose stone. Finally after three hours he found something promising.
Sticking his fingers in the small crack, he slowly pulled a stone out of the ground. It was hard work, and for one brief moment he thought about asking someone to help him, but then he brushed it off, wanting to keep the secret of the scrolls to himself.
With a final heave, he pulled the stone up and set it down on the floor next to him. Grabbing a torch from one of the sconces on the side of the nave, he peered down into the hole. What he saw amazed him.
There was indeed a little cubby down there, less than six feet squared. Inside the tiny room was a oaken box, the wood having a golden patina that comes with age. Lowering himself into the hole, he lifted the box with shaking fingers and placed it up on the floor of the chapel. Then he pulled himself up beside it and opened it up.
There they were-the scrolls that were his destiny. Opening it up, he was surprised to see that it had been written in Old English, not Latin. Well, that would make his life easier.
As much as he wanted to read the scrolls right now, a quick look out the window confirmed that it was time to go home before someone started wondering where he was. Quickly lowering the stone back into its resting place, he gathered the scrolls in his arms and headed home, depositing them in the barn while he went inside for dinner.
It was hours before he managed to get back out to the barn to read the scrolls. In the dark of night with only the flickering light of the lamp driving away the shadows, the prophecies began to work their power, transforming future into present. A man who had once been loving and kind became even more obsessed with the promises mentioned in the scrolls.
"So it is true," he whispered to himself as he read the last line. "I'm destined to build the Centre, to achieve greatness."
He frowned as something else occurred to him. "But what of this terrible price that is mentioned? Do I really want to risk.?"
He paused to think for a moment about the world the knight had lived in. At that time, everything had been seen has having some sort of unseen spiritual effect, even the manner in which one dressed. Perhaps this warning was something Addecius had believed to be true, but it was not something he needed to worry about. That had to be the case he decided. After all, it was about time he caught a lucky break without there being any strings attached.
Ezra could hardly wait until morning to tell his wife about this. Surely she would be as happy as he was. Somehow though, this was not the case.
"Elizabeth, don't you see?" he asked, surprised that she just did not seem to get it. "This is our chance to make a name for ourselves, to finally get away from Carthis."
"And why would you want to get away from Carthis Ezra? This is our home, we were both born here," she reminded him, gesturing broadly as if to encompass the entire island in her embrace.
"Don't you want something different, something new?" he argued, pressing her for an answer.
"No," she said flatly.
"And what about the prestige that would come if we were able to build the Centre?"
"Power and prestige are meaningless if they are all you want Ezra. You need to have more in your life than that, or you will be destroyed slowly from the inside out."
He finally gave up, realizing she was not going to change her mind right now. "Think about it and we will talk about it again tomorrow," he told her and walked out of the house.
Ezra went about his daily chores, pretending like nothing had changed. Inside however he was a very different man, and this came out once again when he went to the barn after supper to look at the scrolls again.
As he re-read them, a devious smile crossed his face. "I will have all the power I ever wanted," he murmured. "Power to change things, to change people, even power to control people. yes, it is exactly what I always wanted."
But tonight his transformation was witnessed by someone else-his eight year old daughter Angel. "Papa is scaring me," she whispered as she saw the darkness creep across the face she loved so much. "Those papers are making him different. I want my Papa back."
Determined that she was doing the right thing, she waited until he had returned to the house, gathered the scrolls up in her arms, and took them to her room where she hid them in her little cubby where she kept her doll so her older brother wouldn't hurt it. Covering it back up, she crawled into bed and fell fast asleep.
The next day after she had done her chores, she came back in the house to hear screaming. "What have you done with them?" her father roared, fury blazing from his eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" her mother replied defiantly.
"I'm sure you don't! I'm talking about the scrolls you miserable, ungrateful hag! I offered you all the things you could ever want in the world and your thanks is to take the scrolls from me to keep it from happening!"
"All I ever wanted was your love," she retorted. "If you honored me half as much as you do those old rags of yours, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now!"
The next sound the little girl heard was that of flesh hitting flesh. "Is that what you told yourself?" he said, his voice dangerously low. "Did you think that if you got rid of the scrolls that I would love you more? You fool! Now that I know what you're really like you couldn't pay me to love you!"
"I don't know what you're talking about Ezra!" she pleaded. "I didn't take the scrolls from you, I didn't!"
"Liar! Where did you put them?" he demanded, hitting her again.
"I didn't. I don't know," she whimpered.
"Then you will just have to pay," he snarled and began beating her. again, and again, and again, until the only sound Angel could hear was the soft sobs coming from her limp form.
Finally he stopped and stared down at where she lay huddled into a ball on the floor. "You disgust me," he said harshly, walking out of the house and slamming the door shut behind him.
Slowly Angel left her hiding place. "Are you all right Mama?" she asked tentatively, the fright evident in her voice.
"Little one!" her mother exclaimed, using her own pet name for her daughter. "How long were you standing there?"
"Papa hurt you Mama," the little girl whispered, clinging to her mother.
"Oh my poor baby. your papa's not the same anymore, he's changing on the inside."
"It was the scrolls, was not it Mama? That is what made him hit you."
"Yes baby it was. wait, what do you know about the scrolls?"
"I saw Papa reading them last night. They put a mean look on his face so I took them."
Elizabeth reached a trembling hand up to stroke her daughter's face. "You're a very brave little girl. Do you think you can do one more brave thing for Mama?" she asked.
"What is it Mama?"
"Can you hide the scrolls somewhere that Papa will never find them again?"
"Will it make him love us again?" she asked, the insecurity shining from her eyes.
The question brought fresh tears to the mother's eyes, and she drew the little girl close to her heart. "I don't know baby, I don't know. but maybe it will at least help him be a better man, more like he used to be."
"Okay Mama, I will do it," Angel answered, standing up and going to her room.
When she got there, she paused for a moment before getting the scrolls out. Something told her this evening would have a bad ending. She needed Father Theo's help. Getting out her pad and pencil, she drew a sketch of herself holding her doll. Then she grabbed both the doll and the scrolls and moved toward the monastery as fast as her little legs could carry her.
"Hello Miss Parker," Father Theo said kindly when she approached him at the confessional. "What are you doing out so late tonight?"
"I'm here for confession," she told him softly.
"And what do you need to confess that drives such a little thing from her bed?" he asked, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement-amusement which vanished when she answered him.
"It is not me," she told him. "It is Papa."
"What has Papa done?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"He's found the scrolls," she said softly.
A feeling of dread spread from the pit of his stomach to the rest of his body. "The scrolls?"
"The ones with evil things written on them," she explained, giving him the answer he had known she would.
"How do you know he found them?"
"Because I saw him with them."
"What was he like when you saw him?"
"He was mean and angry," she said, confirming his fears. Now to ask a question he wished he didn't have to.
"Does he still have them?"
"No, I stole them. I hid them someplace special, now I need you to hide the clues so he won't find them."
"What about you Miss Parker? Are you carrying something?"
"It is my doll and a pretty little pouch, and a picture I drew of myself. They're to remember me by," she said with a sweet smile on her face that made him sick to his stomach. He knew what she meant, he just hoped she was not right.
"What do you mean?"
"Just hide the scrolls, remember Father Theo."
"I will Miss Parker, I will," he said solemnly, taking the little leather pouch from her and setting the doll down gently on his desk. "Now you get home and go to bed, it is past your bedtime," he admonished.
After she left he stared at the pouch, wondering where he could hide it. A perfect place occurred to him-the reliquary beneath the altar. Hurrying down the stairs, he opened it up and slipped the pouch inside. Then he went back upstairs and placed the key to the ancient lock inside little Miss Parker's doll.
When he was done, he sat there for a moment, debating. Finally his conscience could take it no longer and he began to write. He was just getting to the good part of the story when he heard something downstairs. Hastily folding the letter and slipping it inside the binding of his Bible, he stitched the cover together and turned toward the door just in time to see Ezra Parker come storming in.
"What can I do for you Ezra?" he said, his congenial tone belying the pounding of his heart.
"Don't you play innocent with me too old man. I know she's been here," Ezra growled.
"Who do you mean?"
"You know exactly who I mean. That little brat of a daughter of mine. She came to you with the scrolls, hoping you would hide them for her. Well she won't be any problem to me anymore, and now you're going to hand them over so her plan will fail anyway."
"What have you done?" the priest asked, appalled.
"I have only done what had to be done to make sure my destiny was fulfilled," he said dismissively. "Now where are they?"
"If you think I would give them to you after what you have done, after seeing the person the scrolls are turning you into, you're wrong," Theo said defiantly. "Your daughter gave them to me hoping that it would save you from yourself. I'm not going to let her down, even if I ca not save her."
"If you don't tell me old man, it will be the last secret you keep," Ezra threatened.
"Then I will go to the grave keeping it," Theo said determinedly, rising from his seat and staring down the other man.
Ezra held his gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to flinch. When he saw that the priest was serious, he shrugged and said, "As you wish. here, let me help you out there." With a mighty shove, he pushed the priest out the window. Turning from the scene, he walked out of the church without a backwards glance. Two hours later he left the island of his birth, the night sky still lit up with the flames dancing around his house.