You will not believe it, Buster. But we arrived at the City Proper just one day before the opening of the Beet Festival. What luck!
Bard and Bumble immediately went inside the Treasury to, um… “Case the joint” was the phrase Bumble used.
Myth had already made it clear that she was not going to rob the Treasury. And I agreed with her. Searching for treasure was fun, but I did not want to something as naughty as robbing the Treasury. So we were waiting for the fools outside the Treasury…
Now, Buster, I should probably describe the Treasury, at least a little bit. Trust me, you will understand why later.
Picture a three-story, rectangular building comprised of square granite blocks. Add four granite pillars, lined into a row, in front of the entrance. Each pillar should be two-stories tall. A roof with a steep incline should connect the pillars to the Treasury building. Now envision a solid oaken door at the front of the building. This door should be wide enough to allow four burly men to run abreast while passing through it. And “BOYLE’S TREASURY” should be engraved above the door.
That’s enough about the building. Let’s focus on the lot adjacent to the Treasury.
Imagine you are facing the Treasury’s entrance. Look just to the right of the Treasury and you should see a garden. Picture a low stone wall around this garden. Now cut a three-foot section out of this wall and put a cast iron gate in its place. On the wall beside the gate should be a plaque that reads, “Boyle’s Garden.”
Let your mind go through the gate and into the garden. It is a beautiful, well-tended garden. Picture trees, shrubs, flowers, and benches—but I will not describe all of those things because they are not important to my story. Now place a stone birdhouse shaped like the Treasury in the center of the garden. This birdhouse should be atop a four-foot high post. Finally, add hinges on the left side of the birdhouse’s roof; these hinges should allow the roof to swing open.
Can you picture all of that, Buster? Good. Remember it, because it will be important and I will not describe it again.
Now, on with my story…
Myth and I wandered into the garden as we waited.
An elderly woman, a weather-beaten and tanned elf, was the only person in the garden besides us. She was weeding one of the flowerbeds when we entered, and she was humming as she worked.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” said Myth as we approached the woman.
The woman looked up and squinted at Myth. She smiled and said, “Oh. Hello, dearie.”
Noticing me, the woman clambered to her feet and bowed her head. “Good day, Miss. How can Branwen assist you?”
…Oh! You would not believe how embarrassed I felt, Buster. That kind, old woman should not have been offering to help me. I should have been helping her…
Shuffling my feet, I said, “Please, just call me Izzy. There’s no need to act so formal.”
Branwen glanced quizzically at Myth.
“It’s not a trick, Mother,” said Myth, patting my shoulder. “To Izzy, both elves and humans are just people.”
Branwen relaxed. She smiled at me. “It would be a happier world if more folk thought as you do, dearie.”
“Thank you,” I replied, feeling even more embarrassed. Patting Myth’s arm, I said, “My friend”—I emphasized the word friend, hoping Branwen would understand that Myth was not my servant—“is called Myth, or Mythilda.”
Myth bowed her head slightly. “I’m honored to meet you, Mother.”
“Oh, dearies,” said Branwen, laughing, “both of you know how to flatter an old woman. So, what brings you to Boyle’s Garden today?”
“Boyle’s Garden?” said Myth. “We just visited Braddock’s Statue. Is this garden named after him, too?”
“You’ve been to Braddock’s Statue, have you?” said Branwen. “Tell me, did you meet an old man named Bran?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Bran was very nice to us. He told us all about Braddock, Lord Boyle. And he said that we weren’t like most kids today who don’t respect their olders.”
Branwen laughed again. “That sounds like Bran. My brother was an old coot even when he was a young man. All the same, I’m glad to hear that he’s still alive and grumblin’ about ‘these kids today.’ ”
“Bran is your brother?” I said.
Branwen nodded. “We’re twins.” She nudged her head towards Myth. “As your friend probably knows, it’s customary among elves for twins to be given similar names. The gods alone know how that tradition got started.”
Myth tapped my arm. “Like my friend, Olwen, and her twin brother, Owein.”
“But you were askin’ about this garden,” Branwen said to us. “I hadn’t forgotten, dearies, even if I did get distracted. Well, I’ve been tendin’ to this garden for a hundred and twenty years now. I started workin’ here when I was a young, pretty thing no older than the two of you. And I’d see Braddock from time to time as I worked. A fine man, he was—as fine as any man who’s ever lived. This garden was called the Treasury Garden back then. And it kept that name until long after Braddock passed on—may he rest in peace. So no, this garden isn’t named in honor of Braddock, Lord Boyle.”
“Then why is it called Boyle’s Garden?” I asked her.
“Did my brother tell you about Braddock’s great-grandson, Broderick?"
“A little,” I replied, “mostly about how he and his family died so tragically.”
“Yes,” said Branwen, shaking her head, “that was sad. Broderick, Lord Boyle, was just as fine a man as his great-grandpappy was. And he was as good a friend to us elves, too. Broderick, he was an ambitious idealist. He wanted Bramble’s nobles to decree that we elves had the same rights as humans.”
“Wow!” gasped Myth.
“Mmm,” uttered Branwen, nodding at Myth. “You understand what that would’ve meant to us, dearie”
“To elves, home and family are everything,” Myth explained to me. “There’s nothing an elf wouldn’t do to protect their home and family. And an elf’s home and family includes the entire Elvenhome and every elf living in it. If a Holding gave us equal rights, then that entire Holding would become our home. And the humans in that Holding would become part of our family.”
“Yes,” said Branwen, “and the first Holding to figure that out is gonna prosper. Broderick realized that, and he was knockin’ some sense into the other nobles. Then he died, and his dream died with him.”
Branwen paused and wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Broderick wasn’t just thinkin’ about Bramble when he came up with that plan. He genuinely wanted to help us elves. I remember him well; he often came by here to ask my advice about tendin’ to flowers. Looked me in the eye when he spoke to me.”
Branwen nodded at me. “Like your friend here.”
“But he was a busy man, being so important,” she went on, “so he didn’t get to see his family much. The Lady Boyle and young Lad Bartholomew mostly stayed at their country estate to the south. But they visited Broderick here in the City Proper.”
Branwen chuckled. “Oh! That young Lad adored his papa. Whenever he came to visit, Lad Bartholomew would follow his papa everywhere. He even tried to act just like Broderick.”
She paused again and wiped her eyes. “Aye, he was a sweet boy. Even went out of way to talk to me—an old gardener. I’ve no doubt he would’ve become a fine man, just like his papa.”
Branwen sighed. “When Broderick and his family died, the Boyle line ended. That’s when this garden’s name was changed—to honor the finest family Bramble has ever had.”
Just then, I noticed Bard and Bumble standing outside the Treasury. I nudged Myth’s arm and then pointed at those fools.
“Forgive us, Mother,” said Myth. “But we have to leave. Thank you for speaking with us.”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you so much. It’s been a pleasure.”
Branwen bid us farewell and returned to her gardening.
We left the garden and walked over to Bard and Bumble.
“Come along, fair damsels,” said Bard. “We have some panning to do.”
“This heist won’t be easy,” added Bumble.
“Would either you enchanting ladies be willing to degrade yourself by pretending to be a prostitute?” said Bard.
Oh! That did it! I raised my hand, ready to give Bard a slapping he would never forget—
“Hold on, Iz,” said Myth, grabbing my hand. “If you slap him, you might hurt him.”
“Good!” I shouted.
“Think about it, Iz,” said Myth. She pointed at Bard and Bumble. “These dolts are planning to rob the Treasury. Mark my words, this heist will end badly for them. If you hurt them, we won’t be able to amuse ourselves at their expense.”
“That’s a good point,” I said, lowering my hand.
“Enough talk,” said Bumble. “Come along, Babe. Let’s get cozy by a fire and plan the heist.”
“Nuh-uh,” said Myth. “For the last time, Izzy and I won’t help you rob the Treasury. It’s an asinine scheme. Besides, I promised Izzy that we’d go to the Beet Festival tomorrow.”
“That’s it!” shouted Bumble. “Sorry, Babe, but you’re out of the gang. The Frigid One is, too.”
“Gang!” exclaimed Myth, laughing. “That’s fine. I doubt the next clue is in the Treasury anyway. I mean—what kind of pirate walks into a treasury in order to make a deposit? It seems more in their nature to take things out of a treasury—things that belong to other people.”
Ranting and raving, Bard and Bumble stormed off. Each one vowed that he would never talk to us again. And that was fine by me.
Myth and I watched them leave. Then I turned to Myth and asked, “So you really don’t think the next clue is in the Treasury?”
“No,” replied Myth. “I don’t.”
I smiled at her. “You know where it is, don’t you?”
Myth shook her head. “Not this time, Izzy. However, I have an idea about the pirate who wrote those clues that may help us find it.”
She smiled at me. “But it can wait. We’ll let those fools embarrass themselves yet again. And don’t forget, we have a Beet Festival to go to.”