Five hours earlier than their planned conversation, Romeo felt a chill go up his spine and down his legs as he sat down across from the Imagebar. Calico moved into the room with a couple of cups of what smelled like chai and sat next to him, setting them down with care.
“Lay it on us,” he said as his heart began to race. “If you’re up this early, we know there’s got to be a good reason for it.”
“Well, you recall that the brother and sister of Rosemary Jenkins – now Calico, of course, to all of us, and they know it – had moved in across the street from your old home,” the man began, his own wife, Melody, sitting next to him.
Romeo could tell the call was being made from their bedroom; the rich, scrolled mahogany of their headboard was still behind them, and neither of their hair was combed. It was apparent they had recently, and abruptly, been awakened.
“Alright, of course we recall. What’s the-”
“Nobody’s seen them for nearly three and a half weeks. None of the neighbors; not your renter. Nobody. Not even us. At first, we thought they had gone on vacation or something, since you were away; that perhaps they figured you’d done the same, but-”
“But now,” Calico asked, her chai halfway to her lips. Romeo glanced at her and could sense terror moving through her veins, in spite of her calm appearance.
“Now, we’re not so sure.”
Eight
Paris, France… May 10, 1707
Mary Beatrice gulped down the fear welling inside of her chest as she watched her old friend, Roisin Beausoleil, moving toward her across the lawn. Her husband, Maurice, and their daughter, Clarice, strode on either side of her, yet slightly behind, their faces downcast in the sun that had just finished rising to its zenith for the day.
All on the round side, and Maurice quite larger than most people she’d ever met, the Beausoleils had always been there for her, and, she hoped, she had been there for them. Times had not always been easy, but with friends one could trust, it made life a bit more bearable.
Taking a few tentative steps toward the little family, she smiled and waved.
How time had changed.
Now that Louisa Maria was getting older – was she really fifteen already? – and James Francis had been twice renounced as king, life had become a nightmare. Her son had been held in prison, seen as an outcast by Cousin Louis and the whole of French society, but for what? Why were they so afraid, and why was their fear feeding into her own?
That the pair might lead people into the future, unknown.
Or was there more?
She thought about what Roisin had told her long ago; that it wasn’t for her to share what she knew of their times, or their futures. That to share what she knew would be to alter it, and thus change the entire world.
At the time, Mary had paid little attention, thinking the woman merely prattling, but now, she wasn’t so sure.
“Bonjour, vieil ami, et comment allez-vous? Il a été trop longtemps, en effet pour nous de ne pas voir l'un de l'autre, avec tellement de ce qui se passe autour de nous dans ce monde insensé,” Roisin told her in greeting as the pair wrapped arms around one another, quickly kissed each other’s cheeks, and smiled. “I only wish it had been sooner than later for us to greet one another once more, ma Dearie,” she continued, her Irish brogue pronounced as usual, no matter the language.
It made Mary smile each time she heard it, for how many could speak French with an Irish lilt to the words, and still be understood?
“Yes, too long,” Mary agreed, taking in her friend’s now nearly-white hair, streaked with brown- quite the opposite of what it was when they’d first met. Her arms were more rounded, and her belly more soft than the woman she’d met coming out of the mirror, so much thinner then.
She opened her arms next to Clarice, and then allowed Maurice to kiss her cheeks before they all moved together toward the palace, where she and Louisa Maria were staying a fortnight at Louis’ and Françoise’s insistence. And so, they quickly made their way through the milling and working craftsmen, past the fountains, and up the steps.
Had the Beausoleils ever been invited as guests before, and not arrived merely as workers?
And had Clarice ever been inside at all?
This would be an interesting turn of events, indeed. And she, for one, looked forward to the possibility of seeing Louis and Françoise becoming a bit more down to Earth and social, even as the Beausoleils would gather in new experiences which, hopefully, would be fruitful for their futures.
“Thank you all for coming,” Louis said as he shifted his legs for the fourth time since sitting down at the dinner table.
“We do hope you enjoy this meal, and time together; it has been too long for some – and it’s a first for others - so much overdue. There is much to discuss, and much revelation to share with one another that might help shed light on what has been happening in this political world, so full of folly and strife and fickleness,” he continued, irritated that his hot chocolate was not at table yet.
Where was the cook? This was the third time in a couple of weeks that the chocolate was not already present, and that would just not do at all.
He glanced to his wife, whose weathered face was wreathed in a smile, and a blush. She had pulled her hair up into ringlets, and wore her favorite pearls and matching earbobs.
He glanced to each of their guests – Mary and Louisa Maria Stuart, the Beausoleils, the Monets, and Monsieur Bonhomme – and tried to come up with witty remarks to say to each as the evening progressed. Their reason for meeting was noteworthy only to themselves, and that would have to do, but if he could lighten the mood a bit here and there, it might help to loosen their tongues and garner better replies.
That the men of the group all currently worked for him was not an issue. He would deal with queries from other staff later, if need be. He’d already had a speaking to with the chef de cuisine, and had assured the man that this was business, rather than favoritism.
Was that why their chocolate had not been prepared? Was that why it had not been brought forth as yet?
A jealous chef de cuisine?
“ I believe you all understand the gravity of the situation,” he began again, trying to formulate his words well.
“James Francis has become a laughingstock among the people, not for the first time, and as much as it pains me to consider this,” he continued as he saw the servants finally bringing their meal; platters of fresh bread and cheese, of venison and duck and a tureen of vegetables were brought forth, and he waited until the servants had cleared the room before continuing with his speech.
“As much as it pains me, I believe we need to intervene on his behalf once again. For five years he has been plagued with the torments of his sister, and of the people of England. And it is enough. We can no longer tolerate...”
How could he put this delicately, with Mary sitting here, on his left, as though she had no idea what he needed to say? Or should he just blast through it like the petard he felt would go off inside of him if he said nothing? His fuse was already going, and the keg would explode if he didn’t continue.
And where was Claude Donatien with his chocolate? With all of their chocolate?
It wasn’t like him to run late. He knew that he could be replaced simply, with a word, for such was the power of the King. Not to mention that he was simply the head of this household, and what he said went.
“It’s alright,” he heard Mary say, nearly in a whisper. “I know he has been… oh, how do I put it? He has been troubled, and I fear that-”
“Troubled is not even the half of it, Mary Beatrice, and you full well know that,” he snapped, then pulled himself straight in his chair, the arthritic joints in his knees popping, his hands moving to clutch the edges of the chair a moment. “He needs a good strong whipping, if you ask me, and if I were a mite younger, I’d be all for giving it to him good, as James would have, were he still alive.”
“Louis,” Françoise scolded, her hands mov
ing up to twist the pearls of her necklace a moment before putting them back into her lap. “Is that any way to speak of the man you once called King of England?”
“Now wait a minute,” he said, looking around the table as Claude finally arrived with the chocolate, and servers approached. “As not only King, but the head of this household and this table, do you dare argue with me in front of others? Do you know what happened to Vashti, my Dearest?”
From the other end of the table, he heard giggling.
Giggling, at his table?
And after reprimanding his own wife, who would dare to do such a thing?
“Mes excuses grave, Sire. Clarice, elle sait pas ce que vous voulez dire quand vous dites des choses comme cela. Vasthi a été tout à fait la femme, vous devez convenir, j'en suis sûr, de se lever pour ce qu'elle croyait en,” he heard Maurice Beausoleil say lightly. “It is not to disrespect you, I can assure you,” the large man continued, his beefy head turning to look at the girl on his right.
“Ah, well, truth is, she was someone threatening and my dear Françoise, not so much. Not most of the time. But back to the point,” Louis said, more than a little irritated things weren’t going well.
He could feel his eyebrow twitching as he spoke, and hoped it wasn’t too evident across on the other end, where the guests sat. “Truth is, James has done things wrong one too many times, and it shall be no small pleasure to tell him so.”
He glanced back to Mary, and then over to Louisa. Such a beautiful pair of women, they were, and yet, one a widow who did not wish to marry again, and the other, teasingly undecided over whether she would at all.
He waited until the service help had finished plating their food for the course and shrugged in thought. What was there to do with the young man? He had more than worn out his welcome with the people of France, and yet, England and Ireland didn’t wish him there, either. Even Scotland, who had recently taken interest in his probability to visit, had changed their decision rather urgently and suddenly once they’d learned that he was still taking it upon himself to assault the throne in hopes of gaining it, as his father had wished him to do.
As the conversation began again, he listened to the opinions of each of the men, with little interruption from the women, save Mary and Françoise, as it should be. And even they said very little.
It wouldn’t do to be shown up by the womenfolk all over again, as had occurred a handful of years back. For several days, the staff had gone behind his back, thinking he would not hear – or they did not care that he did – the crude and hurtful remarks they’d shared; opinions that he was hen-pecked and not the leader in his own palace.
And he refused to say nothing if it happened again. They would know without doubt that the behavior was not acceptable, and the words not truth.
He had to.
His reputation depended upon it.
Nine
The Stairway… The Timeless Now
Edward moved along with the group, following the angels in awe of the presence of God in the midst of them; had he ever been so aware of His existence?
The notes of the stair keys, or what the angels had named the “Keys of Praise,” astounded him, even without knowing what most of them were called. He had not studied music as much as his wife, but he knew the tones, the notes, the complexity and simplicity and awesome nature of it to be a thing of beauty.
Tears fell from his eyes silently as they proceeded to pray and praise at each step along the way, kneeling in humble thankfulness, even while his mind raced toward the peace he sensed; the joy that overcame him; the sense of marvel and wonderment.
He could feel Paloma’s hand in his, and Masao’s on the other side. His wife, in the middle, with two men on each side, they continued making their way toward the top of the staircase. Fits of praise and pauses punctuated their progress, and then, finally, they reached the eighty-eighth stair. Three doors stood before them at the landing, as the angels had mentioned at the beginning of this part of the journey.
What was it? Something about choosing the lintels to cross over, each on their own?
And yet, Masao had said at the beginning, we must stick together, and so now what do we do? Stick together by choice, and follow our hearts in that way, or follow our hearts, but in different directions? Wouldn’t that displace the unity we are seeking to get from this? The reason we came through the doorway of the mirror together was to better understand together, wasn’t it?
They hadn’t really discussed what they’d do at this point. There had been no time, and now, it was upon them. This momentous decision. And what would it prove?
Lemuel moved toward them, his wings humming louder than the others’ and smiled. “It is now the time,” he said, his voice rippling over them like the currents of the Columbia River on a windy day. “Time to face the decisions of your hearts,” he continued, his cheeks beginning to glow.
“Time,” Arieh – or was it Ari’el? – “to set aside what you believe the others will say; will choose, and choose for yourselves. For each comes to the Father through Christ on their own, this is truth.”
He squeezed his wife’s hand, and she pulled him closer; she pulled Jason closer on the other side, and the others came into line with her, into a circle.
Could they really do this separately, when they were family? Was it possible for them to go separate ways and still remain united?
“What was it that Paul, the apostle said,” Arieh – or Ari’el – asked. ““For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling— if indeed, when we have taken it off we will not be found naked.””
The other twin angel – Ari’el – or was it Arieh – continued.
““For while we are still in this tent, we groan under our burden, because we wish not to be unclothed but to be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord— for we walk by faith, not by sight. ””
Kalev, his wings beating fast, continued where the pair had left off.
Edward tried to figure out where the passage was from. Second Corinthians, he knew, but where? Which chapter?
““Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For all of us must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense for what has been done in the body, whether good or evil. Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we try to persuade others; but we ourselves are well known to God, and I hope that we are also well known to your consciences. We are not commending ourselves to you again, but giving you an opportunity to boast about us, so that you may be able to answer those who boast in outward appearance and not in the heart. For if we are beside ourselves, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. ””
Ezer began to speak then, his large, dark eyes glowing brightly, as though from unshed tears.
““For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!””
Neriah moved closer to them, the very air around him hot, the wind from his wings bringing a hum and a much-needed breeze.
“And John wrote, “We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looke
d at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life— this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us— we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.””
Elihu stepped closer to them, a small parcel in his hands before him. Where had it come from?
“John also says that “if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.”
Finally, as Edward surmised he would, Lemuel spoke once more, his smile kinder than any Edward could imagine. The wings on his feet moved, but those at his side and near his face seemed to remain still as he spoke.
“And one final thing; this, from the Father, as written and spoken through the prophet, Amos, who I have had the privilege of conversing with, personally, when he had visions in the night. “Do two walk together unless they have made an appointment? Does a lion roar in the forest, when it has no prey? Does a young lion cry out from its den, if it has caught nothing? Does a bird fall into a snare on the earth, when there is no trap for it? Does a snare spring up from the ground, when it has taken nothing,” he began, his wings becoming more iridescent by the moment. “Is a trumpet blown in a city, and the people are not afraid? Does disaster befall a city, unless the Lord has done it? Surely the Lord God does nothing, without revealing his secret to his servants the prophets. The lion has roared; who will not fear? The Lord God has spoken; who can but prophesy?”
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 66