The Secret

Mary-Jean Harris

It is no longer the time to hide. We must reveal ourselves!” the young man announced. He pounded his fist on the wooden table in front of him and glared at his comrades demandingly. Although the novice of the group, he held a distinctive pride that most of these perceptive men possessed.

An eruption of objections with immense dissatisfaction projected across the room. Disgruntled men lashed fervent protestations that echoed through the stone walls.
“Enough!” cried Andrew, the leader of the guild.

The men fell silent and settled back down in their high-backed chairs, which contained intricate carvings elaborating the wood. Impressions of monks working zealously on scrolls, nobles dancing in courtyards of roses wearing finery only the richest could afford, knights slaying unicorns and other enchanting beasts, and many more revelations and events of the day. The room of the guild was built to hold complete secrecy—no one could hear a word of the avid conversations held inside.

“Thank you,” Andrew said, once the men had given him their complete attention. He turned his sharp, wise eyes to the younger man who had interrupted. “No,” Andrew declared, “We will not share the Secret.”

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