England 1470
Brother William gazed into the ball of
polished glass. Tantalizing glimpses of the future, shrouded in mist and
shadows, flickered and disappeared. Carefully, he put the ball back into its
velvet sack and ran his fingers over the exquisitely decorated box in front of
him. It perfectly matched the image that he had just seen.
He heard footsteps coming up the
stairs. That must be the queen, he thought, opening the door.
She has come at last.
“Your Majesty,” he said, and bowed as
she swept into the room.
“Brother William, I presume?” said the
queen.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She walked over to the tiny window and
peered down at the unmarked carriage waiting below.
“I risk a great deal coming here,” said
the queen, lowering the hood of her cloak. “ My enemies have spread rumours
that I practise the dark arts. My own brother-in-law, the Duke of Gloucester,
believes that I bewitched the king into marriage. It will do me no good if I am
seen with you in this inn. It is said you are a sorcerer.”
“Your Majesty,” protested Brother
William, “I am but a humble monk.”
“You were a monk,” the
queen corrected him, as she sat at the table. “I know your story, Brother
William. You were banished from the monastery, and now there is a price on
your head. “Your messenger said that you had a
vision that harm would come to my son and that you would give me something to
protect him.” She pointed to the box. “Is this it?”
“Indeed it is, Your Majesty.”
With trembling hands, Brother William
gently pushed the box across the table toward her.
The queen studied the painted figures
on the sides, lifted the lid and peered in.
“It seems like an ordinary box to me. My
son’s christening is on the morrow. What more can you tell me?”
Brother William shook his head. “One day
the prince will be in grave danger; this box will protect him. He must always
keep it close at hand.”
“But how does it work?”
“When the time comes, he must place a
letter inside the box, and it will bring him aid when he most needs it.”
“You speak in riddles, old man!” snapped
the queen, grabbing the box. “I can tarry no longer.”
Without a backward glance, she hurried
from the room, clutching the box tightly under the folds of her cloak.
Brother William quickly gathered up the
velvet sack and prepared to leave. Moments after the queen’s carriage departed,
he heard a loud pounding at the door and shouts from the street below. It was
the sheriff’s men.
But by the time they reached the
upstairs room, Brother William had disappeared.
You can learn more about Th Sorcerer's Letterbox and the historical background to the story on my website.