Chapter 3 - Ten Silver Coins - Book 1
Andrew Kooman
A massive house in the Forest holds another, mysterious, letter
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4270a297-134c-466d-8a3f-eb06e7baad10%2Ffavicon.ico
Chapter Three: Another Letter

After crossing the stream, Jill continued down the path. As she walked, she thought over her conversation with the magnificent creature and the magic it used to cause the Forest to stand still in time.

Jill could hardly believe the events that had just taken place. The thought of it made her giggle in astonishment. Jill was also surprised to hear that the Keeper had not been seen in the Forest for some time. She wondered what to do.

What if he wasn’t there? Where would she go and what would she do? Her caretaker had disappeared and it was not safe to go back to Vendor.

Jill felt anxious. All of a sudden she found herself alone in a strange new place with no plan, and she was at the mercy of someone who may or may not be around to help her. If Jill felt anxious, she had to admit to herself that she was also a little excited. She was like a vagabond: alone, on the road, totally vulnerable, but also very free. She concluded that the only thing to do was to walk to the Great Hall and see if anyone was home.

Jill followed the path until she entered a clearing. The dirt path that led her through the foliage ended when she stepped beyond the trees and connected to a walkway made up of flat, round stones, each one about the size of Jill’s hand.

The stone path brought Jill through a beautiful garden and up to a gate. Above the gate was a tall white arch covered with ivy. Behind the gate was a yard surrounding a very large house that Jill could only describe as majestic.

The gate was left open, pushed inward toward the house, and Jill walked through it to the porch. The stone path curved its way toward the front steps of the house, forming what to Jill looked like a very elongated S shape.

Midway along the path were two stone pillars that rose nearly ten metres above the ground. Vines and moss covered the pillars. Jill stood in between them and stuck out her arms. If she stretched as hard and as far as she could, she could nearly touch each pillar at the same time.

From where Jill stood outside, the house looked old, impressive, lived in. The grass in the yard was short; flowers in pots were colourful and alive, nowhere could she see weeds.

The entrance to the house was massive. Two solid oak doors loomed above Jill more than ten feet high. The door handles were bronze, shaped like the heads of valiant stallions, and were so brightly polished they glimmered like fire. Jill was astonished by the doorknobs, and leaned down to look at them more closely.

Each doorknob was a single sculpted bronze piece, which curved upward from the oak door so that it appeared as if the horses were tossing their heads from the ground toward the sky. The sharp, rigid equine jaws jutted out toward the porch, and the beasts’ nostrils were flared up at the porch’s awning. So real did they seem, Jill could almost hear hot breath leaving the horses’ mouths as they neighed wildly.

A single ruby was set deeply into each bronze face, shaped in the form of an eye. The ruby caught and reflected the light of the sun, which made the horses look alive. The horses faced each other, both heads tossed upward, as though charging in battle. Their beautifully textured manes were thick, and formed the handle which any soul—brave or foolish enough to tame such wild beasts—might grab hold of to enter the house.

Jill smiled at the horses, and touched the right door handle in awe, half expecting to feel the power of the horse’s strength. Without meaning to, Jill pushed the door open with one light, reverent touch. Jill stepped back in surprise as the door creaked open. The room inside was enormous and rather dark. It was separated into two sitting areas by a very large staircase. Jill slowly took a step inside.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

There was no response.

“It’s Jill. Jill Strong? I’ve come to –”

Jill was interrupted by the sound of a loud whoosh! A fire ignited in the huge stone fireplace at the end of the room along the western wall. The rush of air from the fire created a draft in the room that pulled at Jill’s hair and blew loose papers throughout the room from where they rested on end tables and bookshelves.

A wave of air pulled Jill’s body toward the fireplace and behind her the door shut loudly. Startled, Jill looked over her shoulder at the door, regaining her composure she called out again. She waited for a few moments, but no one responded.

Jill looked around the room. I’ll just find a seat and wait, she thought to herself, deciding the Keeper or whoever was watching the house had gone out for a few minutes or was busy in some back room.

Jill moved to a couch near to the roaring fireplace and sat down. Beside the couch was a small table with a vase that had two yellow flowers in it. Leaning against the vase was an envelope similar to the one her caretaker had given to her.

Jill stood up and walked to the table. On the envelope, once again in neat letters, was her name, Jill Strong. Jill turned the letter over. On the back of the envelope was the same blue seal of wax.

Jill looked to the door then back at the table. The emblem on the seal, which earlier in the day she had hardly paid any attention to, was the same beautiful design as the sculptured bronze doorknobs. A letter opener rested on the table beside the envelope. Jill picked it up and in one swift slice broke open the seal. As she pulled out the letter, shivers once again tingled up and down her spine. She read the letter out loud.

Dearest Jill,

The trip I spoke of beyond the Forest was much more urgent than even I expected. I trust that you arrived soon after you received my first letter, as I requested. I regret not being able to welcome you personally into the home entrusted to my care, but I hope you will understand that I could not delay any longer.

You must have many questions. My letter to you and my request may sound mysterious, but, for reasons you will understand at a future time, it must be that way.

What I can tell you at present, in print, is that your dear Mother once received a similar letter with a similar request. She was a trustworthy woman in every respect and that good quality has been passed on to you. Your mother kept for me a very important book, a treasure beyond compare. The time has come for one of the treasures belonging to this house to be entrusted to you. All its treasures are precious, far more precious than a single life. Your mother gave her life to protect the treasure given her. Be assured Jill, for this reason she rests in peace.

Since this home was built, many letters, like the one you received, have been sent to people in the city of Vendor. Few have returned to the Forest or this house. There are many reasons to be afraid, but none great enough to refuse adventure. All who guard the treasures of this house will find adventure as they keep it in their care. Each treasure is unique. Some are ancient, some are new, all are of indescribable worth.

For you, child, a priceless near timeless treasure has been given to keep. Once it is in your possession consider it something very precious. Try to learn about it all that you can.

You must guard the treasure, it is more important than your own life. One day you will understand this. Until then you will have to trust my word, and, remember the example of your Mother.

You will find the treasure somewhere in the Great Hall. For its safekeeping, it has been hidden from all others and from you. To find your treasure, here is a simple clue:

One not all

and all but one

your treasure can find

Unlock destiny

with the touch of a finger

in the wink of an eye

Come to the place

where the stones cry

When you have found the treasure, keep it with great care. Do not let it out of your sight; do not entrust it to any other person, for I put it under your watch and yours alone. Treasures there are many, but servants of this house are few. Beware. There are both man and creature that do not deserve your trust. To give the treasure to them would be dangerous. You cannot always trust appearances. Look for the mark of true servants of this house, but understand that sometimes you won’t find it outwardly, but in the character of the heart.

I welcome you into my home. What is mine is yours; you are welcome into every room, you can read any book. Only treat all things as valuable possessions. Above all, protect what has been entrusted to you.

Most sincerely,

The Keeper of the Great Forest

Jill rested her arms at her sides. She sat back down on the couch and skimmed over the letter again. She felt faint with hunger. She looked around the room: to the door, at the fireplace, then stopped surveying the room when her eyes locked on a painting.

The painting was of a family. A father, mother, and young daughter sat under a cherry tree that was in full bloom. The man in the painting wore a suit, and, with his back to Jill, he pointed to something in the sky.

The woman in the picture wore a white summer dress and a summer hat, angled so that it covered her eyes. The woman leaned down to the ground, and it looked as though she was about to touch the toddler who sat on a picnic blanket.

The toddler’s face was the only face in the painting visible to Jill. The toddler, a little girl with light brown hair curled around her ears, looked blankly out of the painting. With one hand pointing in the same direction as the man, her other hand rested on her little knee.

Jill gazed at the picture for some time. Something about it was familiar, but she could not make the connection in her memory, a frustrating exercise as feeble as an effort to remove a skin of apple from between two molars with an awkward and tired tongue. Jill fell back against the couch.

“What have I gotten myself into?”

© 2024 Andrew Kooman. All rights reserved.

About Andrew Kooman

Andrew Kooman is a Canadian writer of fiction, poetry, plays, and films. His work has been enjoyed by audiences around the world and translated into lots of different languages.

He’s the author of the children’s books Popcorn Helmet and Simple Christmas Spectacular, the first two books in theRamsey P. Heaton, Future Billionaire series. Andrew likes to make people laugh in church. His popular plays and skits are performed across North America and can be purchased at SkitGuys.com.