by Lucas Hault
Barbara smiled through her tears. She could breathe in the pride, the very sensation running with her blood. She threw herself in her sister’s arms and all her grieve disappeared like rain on summer earth. In that embrace she was cocooned better than any butterfly could be. She felt her soft skin and the gentle squeeze on her own, which drained all of her agitation and soothed her.
“Both father and mother must really be proud of you, and so am I,” remarked Joanna as they rose to their feet. Barbara had always loved her elder sister, she being the only one whom she believed in, and considered to be her own blood—not everyone but her.
She exchanged a lovable smile, like that of a dear child to his beloved mother.
“Let’s do what you do best,” said Joanna.
“What?” she asked confusingly, as if there were a hundred things, amongst which she couldn’t guess the one just mentioned.
“Loiter around the place, enjoying the beauty of nature”.
They chuckled, and ascended the stairway that led to the elavated expanse of the garden—a substantial, well kept yard with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes decorating the back of the Palace. There were a variety of blooming flowers, and long pathways paved using ancient silverstones, bordered with trimmed bushes on both its sides and connected to the gazebo at the far end. The gazebo was made of shining white marbles and decorated with flowers, and opened to a view of the gigantic river flowing beneath in the far right, and bright green shade of the vast stretch of lawn at the opposite.
The garden in Jewelsberg was the largest, and perhaps the only one to have a fountain in the whole nation of North-Eastern Syneria, as Jewelsberg was the wealthiest city, followed by Sinfroera in the country.
The sisters walked over the splendid path that led towards the gazebo, and there was also the posterior view of their Palace to the far right, outlined over the bright blue of the sky and absorbing the sunlight to gather its own glamour.
The Palace of Jewelsberg was simply a mirroring of heaven. It was vast and rambling, made of red-brown stones, with different regions and jumbled battlements at the high walls that connected the different wings within a single boundary—all heavily guarded with figures in peaked caps and frogged jackets. The Palace sat on an extensive green lawn in front of a high woody ridge, beneath which flowed the Great River of Phoenix that separated it from Syneria. The Palace was a large and luxurious dwelling, adorned with numerous works of art, antique furniture, and a gallery of the large Maddox family’s historic treasures. There were four solid, square towers located within the protective barrier, and refined windows embedded with gems, lined orderly over the walls in a fairly pattern; all connected by enormous, wide walls made of bronze stone. The towers and the palace structure were shaped up in domes at its very top, with its surface constituted like a diamond’s impression.
Jewelsberg was a city of mostly the high and middle classes—lower classes were no longer to be found ever since the partition. Jewelsberg had always wanted to be a separate nation right from the severance, but it failed. There had followed certain riots ever since the War of Syneria to claim the city. The bloodsheds never seized, not until Jewelsberg made a firm decision to submit itself willingly to the newly partitioned nation of North-Eastern Syneria. The Maddoxes have since then, been a valuable ally to the North-Eastern Dictator, Antonio Calaway; and the city was secured with power and peace.
“What else did mother tell you?” inquired Joanna, as they trod into the belvedere.
“Something that you were too shy to reveal.”
“What?” asked Joanna bluntly.
“Isn’t it true that you have been secretly writing to your fiancé all these days,” she replied grinning.
Joanna nearly fainted with the shock of it, and yet she had to keep a bold and smiling face. Though she couldn’t help with the blushing.
Barbara laughed. “You are too bad in pretending, Joanna! Why don’t you admit the truth.”
“The truth is that God has a partial view,” replied Joanna in an irritated tone of someone who has just been exposed. “He has gifted you with occult dreams—the dreaming beauty, Barbara Maddox. And me with a pathetic disorder of sleepwalking.” She sounded complaining like a child and Barbara laughed again.
“I don’t think you carry it any longer.”
Joanna was still reddened at her initial thought. “What else have you witnessed in your dream?”
“Just one more thing,” she replied. “I know you have more knowledge of the two events of the past than I do, but you never share it with me. And today, on this particular day I would like to know them.”
“Why don’t you use your dreams as a potential to unveil the truth behind the tale of the mysterious death of Sean Maddox, or the secret behind the closed door of uncle Balben’s wedding night,” remarked Joanna in a voice filled with sarcasm.
“I wish I could!” she replied thoughtfully, repeating the same manner. “But I have absolutely no control over it.”
Joanna sighed, gazing at the stretch of lawn running parallel with the river and being suppressed at the extreme right, where the river flowed right beneath the central wing, in which was situated the sisters’ chambers. “I really don’t know what had happened that night between uncle Balben and aunt Layla. I have asked aunt Ashley a couple of times but she never says a word against her husband. I have also heard some whispers among women about this being a case of infidelity, but these are all kitchen talk that are never likely to be believed.”
“Balben, the wife’s murderer! That is how the world remembers him,” exclaimed Barbara. “I don’t think he might have ever loved her.”
“But he did,” replied Joanna at once. “Aunt Ashley says that he loved his first wife far more than her or any other thing. He loved her right from his very childhood, she being the only thing he ever wanted. No one knows if he really killed his wife that night or some other misfortune followed. The truth lies with him and he needs no justifications to prove it.”
“So this is why she often calls her husband a strong man,” she remarked. Joanna nodded.
“And do you believe what people say regarding the other event? The story of a curse so brilliantly attached with the tale of the mysterious death of Sean Maddox. I never believe in such nonsense.”
“Neither do I,” supported Joanna. “But it is the only remaining theory that one can frame. That’s what uncle Balben says. Sean Maddox was much ahead of Alfen’s time. He was the seventh President of Syneria when he was presented with the case of Cassandra Frost, who was accused of sacrificing small children for some weird purpose. This was why he sentenced her to be burnt alive, and on that very same night he died the same way. The case was minutely investigated, but in vain. It led to no appropriate conclusion. A few presumed it as homicide committed by someone in the family, while the remaining believe it to be the curse of Cassandra Frost.”
The narrative had still not lost its daunting tanginess despite the ages. The sisters were still speaking to one another when there came a vague vibration in the earth and air, quickly changing into a violent pulsation, and an oncoming rush that caused them to start back, as though it had forced to draw them down. Barbara’s brain had shut down on feeling the tremors beneath her feet. She was clammy and there was the glisten of a cold sweat. An earthquake, though not massive, but the minor was enough to stun any individual around. She turned to Joanna who looked the same—cold and terrified. The ground felt like a boat floating over the water surface, as it quivered for some moments, and then finally seized. There had been no physical damage anywhere around, but the emotional stress was immeasurable. The Palace guards and many others had gathered in groups, chattering about the disaster that had just passed unharmed.
“It was the fourth one,” said Joanna, staring her in the eyes. “It was the fourth consecutive earthquake in a month”.
She nodded. The quakes had disturbed everyone around. They had learned about the past, where there were absolute
ly no earthquakes for decades or more, following the first. But here at present, it was the fourth one in a row within this single month of autumn. It truly meant no good, and perhaps something concerning, which had always struck Barbara’s mind.
Both the sisters stood numb, staring each other in the eyes, when a sudden loud voice interrupted. “Joe! Babs!” he called, and they turned around to notice Chris Maddox, the youngest and the only surviving son of Balben and Ashley approaching them. The other two were killed during the Riots of Jewelsberg, while his only sister, Kylie Maddox had been married to Ashley’s brother and the President of Silver Island, Jordan Hills. Though Barbara had always believed it to be a planned strategy of expanding power and control, behind Kylie’s wedding to her very own uncle.
A tall and skinny figure just like his father, dressed in a loose cotton shirt with narrow trousers and dark leather boots, the shade of his top matched that of Joanna’s gown. A man with the same Maddox hair and eyes, Chris was the same in age as Barbara, though he could never match her charm. A repulsive figure with a gaunt face and a slender neck, his clothes hung baggily over his skinny shoulders, while his lofty hair brushed them.
The Maddoxes had held Jewelsberg for centuries, and due to the extreme old age of his father, the city remained in the Dictator’s hands, until Chris reaching the rightful age to take over Jewelsberg, not as some Governor but a supreme leader, as per the agreement made during the time of summit. His parents wanted their son to marry Barbara, once he claiming the position. But Barbara and her sister had no such intention. Joanna believed that her sister deserved a man much better than him. She was ready to see Barbara sooner in her grave than as the wife of Chris Maddox.
“You should be habituated to the quakes by now,” he remarked, tittering over the pale faces of the women. There was a world of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke.
“What brings you here?” she asked abruptly. She had never been pleased with his presence anywhere around her and hated him more and more every time that he interfered.
“My love!” he replied instantly. “for my beloved cousins.” He always had a strong desire for Barbara. He just wanted time to fly away quick so that he may gain his supreme position, following which she would be beside him as his wife, his sole property. He liked her insanely and wanted her at all costs.
The sisters didn’t react much, as he was highly annoying and intolerable, especially to Barbara Maddox. She was so repulsive to him that she turned her sight to the other side, avoiding any possible eye contact with the man.
“I sense some other purpose behind your presence”, said Joanna. She was no stranger to his presence there, and why she would be. Chris had never liked the garden and hardly visited it.
“Do you doubt my love for my sisters?”
“I doubt your presence to this place”. She sounded clever, and indeed, she possessed that quality.
He chuckled. “I appreciate your perception. Father and mother await you both in their dining chamber”.
“What for?” asked Joanna. It sounded strange.
“Find it yourself”, he replied, turning his way back towards the edifice. She found him strutting away as proud as a peacock, gazing at Barbara all the while, about which the sisters hardly cared. Barbara never liked him, not a bit, and there was absolutely no way that she was going to marry him, even if it meant going against her uncle and aunt, or leaving their Royal Palace at once. She sometimes even had the thought to embrace death rather than to marry him.
“Let’s not make them wait any longer”, said Joanna, and both the sisters made their way out of the garden and towards the corridor.
“I was in no mood to eat and that was my only reason to escape breakfast”, explained Barbara. She was in the dining chamber along with Joanna, seated before their uncle and aunt.
“You should never escape your breakfast. It doesn’t mean good for your health,” mentioned Balben Maddox in a voice full of concern, as if he was her very own father.
An old lanky figure in his late seventies, with the same Maddox gene, his thin untidy hair was longer than that of his son, covering the back of his neck and reaching further down his scraggy shoulders. Dressed in shirt and trousers, and a long frock coat with narrow flaps over its shoulders that hung loosely over his shrivelled limbs, his voice wasn’t shrill but heavy, which was an exception with a man of his age. His bulging eyes resembled a fierce look over his hollow-cheeked face.
“I am in no mood to eat.”
“But you should. At least have your favourite chocolate cake”.
She looked satiated, in absolutely no mood to eat, but had to, because of her uncle’s reiteration, whom the two had always known to be caring, regardless of the truth.
The dining chamber was big and spacious, bigger than the large stair room leading to it, with three small windows situated on the opposite walls. The palace had numerous guest rooms, many of which hadn’t been used ever since the riots of Jewelsberg. There were curved doorways and excellent wall impressions, including balconies outside the beautiful windows, the railings of which were forged with pure gold. Beaded string lights were suspended down the ceilings, with its flattened ends formed in shape of patens. The dining chamber, just like all the other rooms was properly tiled with marbles and was filled with the smell of delicious stuff. Sunlight entered through the openings, flattering itself on the surface within. The table was occupied with roasted meat and bread, chocolate cakes and pies, and glasses of delicious red wine. The Maddoxes were the followers of Rasphorism, believing in the two Gods of Life and Death, unlike the followers of the Ancient Religion, who believed in one God who created everything. The Maddoxes were too fond of meat and wine. Though Barbara never liked meat much, the red wine was her favourite.
“I just remembered the tale of Alfen Maddox”, he began as both the sisters started with the cakes. They carried on with their act and listened. He continued, “The first ever President and the Dictator of the three continents. It was he who ended the reign of the Hawking Dynasty and burned it to the ground. He was the only man to conquer and rule the world, and we are his proud descendants!”
The historians and the people all over the country believed Alfen’s story as a fictional past, which constitutes the false history of the Nation. The famous historian Ron Smith in his famous book “The Veiled Nation” had mentioned, “Never ever had Alfen Maddox or anyone else, conquered the three continents of the world. Alfen Maddox was an invincible warrior and a far capable leader than anyone could ever be. He had destroyed the last Hawking ruler, along with many others to establish his rule as the first ever President over the Southern Continent. The people of that continent, along with the other two, were free and independent, and everyone respected him. But it was just a matter of respect and nothing else, and he had never conquered or ruled the three continents of the world”.
Another famous historian Dwayne Lee, in his famous book “The Myths of Syneria” had clearly mentioned, “Never ever had anyone existed to conquer the world. There were various rulers all across the three continents, and not everyone was conquered. The story of Alfen Maddox is fictional, something created by the Maddox House for the sole purpose of reflecting their royalty”.
However, the Maddoxes had considered these as bullshit and a smart and clever strategy to suppress the truth. But there were some countries in the world like Aries, The Silver Island, Rotfiego and the Fourteen Nations of Huruk located in the Central Continent that had witnessed and believed in Alfen Maddox and his conquest, and called him ‘Alfen, the Subduer.’
“The Subduer must have been excellent in art and architecture as well”, guessed Joanna hesitantly, being well aware of her uncle’s obsession with the past, and especially Alfen Maddox, and uttering anything wrong would just burst out his anger. She took a sip of her drink. It tasted delicious as she licked her lips, sitting quietly, gazing down at her glass of wine.
“He was excellent in everything”, replied Ashley, a copper shimmer-haired
woman with blue eyes. She was a young healthy woman, half in age of her husband, and had his offspring in her womb. She was retiring by disposition, and very much absorbed, to all appearance, in her husband and her domestic duties. She sat beside him on their wooden chair, with her body wrapped in a fancy corset displaying her white cleavage, and a long skirt attached to her bottom. She was loyal to him despite their age difference, though many believed it to be the husband’s past and his title that forced her into loyalty.
Balben nodded. “Alfen Maddox and all of our ancestors have always said that our courage lies within ourselves, and it is we who need to find it out”.
“And the world remembers us through our actions”, added Joanna. She had grown up hearing it time and again, and so it was settled in her mind.
“Absolutely true”, he replied. “The world remembers you not by your house or dignity, but by your actions. It may either remember you as the Subduer or as the wife’s murderer. It’s all about your actions, and the world will know it”.
Balben Maddox, the son of John and Karla Maddox, was first married to his cousin Layla Maddox. She was the only daughter to his uncle Gregor Maddox and his wife Dyanna Maddox. Balben and Layla were betrothed to each other since childhood, and were married at the right age, but shockingly, she was brutally stabbed to death on their wedding night. Every soul believed no one but her very own husband behind it.
He appeared different, complaining about his life and situation. The past seemed to prick his heart, while his title tortured his mind.
“Why had you to do it when you loved her so insanely?” asked Barbara, fighting the various thoughts within her head. She sounded cold, a little nervous, something buzzing inside her to shut her mouth, while a large part of her regretting her action. She had at last gathered all her courage to lay the question disturbing her all the years, awaiting the answer, as her fingers moved nervously over the plate.