One Crown & Two Thrones: The Prophecy

by Iseult O'Shea

  “No one is presuming that you should do such a horrid thing, but…,” Lier removed his hand from his mouth. “There must be truth in Heiden’s words, for he would never utter a lie.”

  “I do not believe in fate as you do Lier. I am not bound to this woman despite her position,” Galean argued hotly. “I will help him to bring her to safety and then I shall return to my own people. My heart died with my family a long time ago, never to resurrect itself, not even for Heiden.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Lier lied seeing the anguish in Galean’s eyes as he sighed deeply. Galean and Lier sat in silence until Theodore returned promptly unaware of their conversation.

  “Right let’s get down to business shall we?”

  *

  “They congregate at the old Barnes Cemetery,” Lier said as they leaned over a map of London, his index finger upon the cemetery.

  “And our purpose in going there is?” Theodore asked aloud.

  “We need to know if Lagmar knows about Celestine and what better way to do that than walk into the fire?” Lier said with perched brows, his eyes dancing.

  “You mean to say that we angels will purposefully walk into a cemetery filled with shadows?” Theodore asked, his face pale and withdrawn at the thought.

  “Yes, you and I will enter the cemetery as shadows using our abilities at disguise for safety,” Lier said to the Theodore with certainty.

  “And what pray will Galean be doing whilst we walk purposefully into a pit of shadows?”

  “I shall be on the train to Keswick to collect your wife and mother, bringing them south to the city of Bath,” Galean said quietly, a wave of anxiety passing through him at the thought of meeting Celestine.

  “But she does not know you,” Theodore retorted dryly.

  “Which is why you will write a letter explaining to her that I am your friend and that you wish to meet both herself and your mother in Bath for the month,” Galean replied flatly.

  “I don’t see why I shouldn’t go to Keswick instead,” Theodore muttered.

  “Lagmar would spot me a mile off,” Galean explained. “I would only harm the mission.”

  “Lagmar and Galean have a particular dislike against one another,” Lier intervened.

  “As do I,” Theodore said with feeling. “He did murder my parents after all.”

  “Yes he did, but you however did not murder his son,” Lier replied curtly. Theodore looked across the table at Galean, whose eyes where upon the map.

  “You killed his son? Why?” Theodore asked.

  “He raped my wife and set my daughter alight, remember?” Galean said coldly. Theodore and Lier stared at Galean with open mouths and horrified gazes.

  “Not even I knew that,” Lier whispered.

  “Yes I remember,” Theodore added darkly. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, it was entirely out of your hands,” Galean said through gritted teeth, wishing the subject to be closed.

  “Still.” Theodore whispered. The men stood quietly unable to speak. Galean feeling the tenseness of the air, stood away from the table.

  “We have little time in which to contemplate my woes. I will make for Keswick in the morning.”

  “I will get to work on writing a letter,” Theodore announced. “Do you have paper and a pen?” he enquired, looking across at Lier.

  “Of course, you will find both in the study down the corridor to the left.”

  “Thank you,” Theodore replied, exiting the room slowly, turning to glance at Galean with a heavy sigh. With Theodore gone, Lier closed the door and turned to Galean.

  “Such disaster and you keep it from an old friend? Why?”

  “You were aware that I killed Lagman?” Galean said under his breathe needing to seep into the wall for sanity.

  “Of that I was aware, why you killed him not so.”

  “What benefit would it have brought?”

  “Understanding. It would have brought understanding.”

  “It is a subject I still cannot bring myself to talk about,” Galean said as he placed his hands upon the hearth, his eyes upon the dying embers.

  “That I understand,” Lier said softly. “Does your father know?”

  “He knows that they died, not that I killed their murderer.”

  “Will you tell him?”

  “No.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “How would it aid his current state?”

  “He would understand why you stayed away for so long.”

  “He knows why I have stayed away,” Galean said abruptly, a flicker of pain igniting within him.

  “He knows of one reason as to why you have stayed away, he does not know of the other reason.”

  “Enough!” Galean cried out unable to take much more. “As I have said, it is a subject not even I can talk about. Let us leave it for now. I am tired and in need of some sleep, may I use one of your guest rooms for the night?”

  “Of course you may,” Lier said quietly as Galean walked away from the fire and made for the door.

  “I will be away early, I must return to my house to pack for the journey.”

  “I will have breakfast ready for you.”

  “Thank you,” Galean whispered before taking his leave.

  II

  The Door

  6th October 1940

  In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present…

  Francis Bacon.

  November was met with a sigh from the residents of Thorn Cottage. The summer had been long and bountiful for those fortunate enough to be nestled away from the realities of war. The hand of war however had still struck hard upon the residents of Keswick. Men had become a rarity and the inflow of evacuees had become a daily event. The young women of Keswick left their aprons at home and stepped into the shoes of their fathers, brothers and husbands. Many spent their days working on the local farms that lay scattered across the nearby area. In a perverse sense of the manner, women had been handed their independence, now making up the brunt of the British workforce and many wore their independence proudly. Of course they were driven by the need to support their male counterparts.

  And so Estelle and Eveline had found themselves saddled with a young evacuee by the name of Belle. Belle was a lonely child from London, Chelsea to be more specific. She was seven years of age and had brought much needed companionship and joy to both Estelle and Eveline since they had collected her a year earlier from the station. When not at school, Belle spent her days with Eveline who had very much taken the child under her wings. It had been a beneficial situation to all involved none more so than Eveline who had transformed greatly, her natural shyness evolving into a new found confidence that enabled her to enter into activities she once thought perilous. Having to rear a child forced Eveline to overcome many of her fears, especially those of a social nature. She found that with a childlike Belle at her side the residents of Keswick began to see her as an equal, uncaring of her unusual appearance and strange ways. War had an incredible way of bringing those who would have once been enemies together for the greater good of society. Twice a week she would walk over to the Williamson farm and help out for a couple of hours, bringing her into contact with other like-minded young women, who soon became firm friends.

  At times she simply forgot that she was married, for she was very much filled with happiness at her new found spirit. It was on the very bleak days that she would find herself immersed in a cloak of depression at the thought of her husband away at war. She did not receive many letters from Theodore and treasured those she had. If anything she missed his constant friendship. When she found herself unable to feel happy or fortunate she instead found herself crying in the arms of Estelle who understood her pain only too well. Belle had brought with her an incurable zest for life and it was this coupled with her intelligence that brought a certain form of healing into the household, for one could not forget that the child too had parents livin
g in London during the Blitz. And so together they formed a pattern of everyday life and found healing and refuge in one another, there little world as save as it could be.

  It had been a very hot summer and although they had entered into October, the sun was still brimming with heat and thus autumn had still to come and knock upon their door.

  “Where are you taking Belle today?” Estelle asked Eveline who sat by the kitchen table finishing her cup of breakfast tea.

  “I thought I would take her down into Keswick to collect our rations for the week, would you like to come?”

  “I really should go for a walk but I just cannot face anyone at the moment,” Estelle admitted as she dried the breakfast plates and put them away.

  “What is it that bothers you?” Eveline asked, turning her body round so that she faced her mother.

  “It would only upset you if I spoke of my troubles,” Estelle said with a sweet smile, a smile that could not reach her eyes.

  “Your troubles are my own,” Eveline replied, setting her china cup down. “Come tell me what ails you?”

  “I received a letter from my dear friend Mary this morning,” Estelle began, turning her body away from Eveline and resting her hands upon the porcelain sink.

  “Mary who lives in Bath?”

  “Yes.”

  “What has happened?”

  “Her son George has gone missing,” Estelle sighed miserably, her mind conjuring up an image of the young Theodore and Eveline playing among the fields.

  “How terrible,” Eveline whispered softly, seeing her mother’s back tense.

  “She wishes for me to visit her for a while.”

  “And shall you?”

  “I would like to very much for we were once firm friends and I have not seen her these last five years,” Estelle said quietly as Belle entered the kitchen, taking her seat at the table.

  “Well then you should go, I can stay here with Belle for a few weeks.”

  “If I leave then how should I receive word about Theodore?”

  “If I receive any letters from Theodore I shall forward them on to you immediately,” Eveline replied kindly, helping Belle to spread butter upon her toast, kissing her forehead lightly.

  “And you are sure you can cope without me?” Estelle asked, turning to Eveline and Belle.

  “Yes, of course we can,” Eveline smiled warmly as Estelle made her way over to the table, bending down to kiss Belle on her forehead as well.

  “Well then I should very much like to go to Bath for a few weeks, maybe you could both journey south and we can spend Christmas with Mary if she wishes it?”

  “That’s a lovely idea, I’m sure Belle would love to go to Bath for Christmas,” Eveline said as she looked into Belles cornflower blue eyes.

  “Oh yes please!” Belle smiled up at Estelle and Eveline.

  “Well then it is settled, I will make arrangements to catch the ten o clock train in the morning,” Estelle replied happily, taking off her apron and hanging it upon a peg by the kitchen door. “I will write to her immediately.”

  Estelle left the kitchen without another word, leaving Eveline and Belle alone.

  “On that note, don’t you think we should write to your parents before we walk down into Keswick?” Eveline asked Belle, whose mouth was full of granary bread. Belle simply nodded her head vigorously. “Good I am sure they are missing you dreadfully.”

  It had not taken long for Belle to write a short letter to her parents and whilst she drew a picture of the cottage, Eveline finished another letter to her parents. With their light coats on, they left the cottage behind and made their way down into Keswick with Wordsworth and a straw basket in which to carry the rations home. The town clock struck ten when they eventually made it into Keswick, passing by some female farm workers who waved to them merrily. Together they visited they toured the shops collecting their weekly rations. When eventually they had collected everything they had needed they stopped by a red post box and popped in their letters, before turning and making their way home once more. Wordsworth had been allowed off his lead on the way home, leaving Eveline and Belle behind.

  “It’s sad when the flowers begin to die,” Belle announced as she skipped along the country path that bordered the lake.

  “Indeed it is,” Eveline smiled briefly, casting her eyes across the lake which was calm and peaceful.

  “Why do they have to die?” Belle asked with pursed brows.

  “All things must come to an end Belle, but they will come into bloom again during the spring.”

  “I don’t like winter.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “But I do like it when it snows,” Belle chuckled loudly as Wordsworth came to her side, nuzzling her arm. “Do you like the snow?”

  “In fact I do, very much,” Eveline gushed. “I remember one winter, oh about six years ago, the lake had frozen over completely and the countryside was hidden beneath a thick blanket of snow. Do you want to know what we did?”

  “Yes please!” jumped Belle, causing Wordsworth to bark aloud.

  “Well Estelle found us two long wooden boards and together we put on our heavy coats and boots and made our way up the nearby hill,” Eveline’s eyes shone with remembrance. “When we reached the top we both sat upon our boards and flew down the hill at such speed! I nearly fell off!”

  “Oh I wish I could do that!” Belle groaned at the thought.

  “You never know we may just have some snow this winter,” Eveline smiled kindly, taking the child’s tiny hand in her own.

  “May I ask what Bath is like?” Belle asked, lifting her face up to Eveline’s, in a very ladylike manner which made Eveline’s stomach flip with adoration for the child who had brought so much life into her own very dull existence.

  “Well I have only ever been to Bath once with Estelle a few years ago,” Eveline began. “It is very beautiful, with beautiful buildings and parks.”

  “May we visit a park?”

  “We may visit lots of parks whilst in Bath.”

  “Is it like Keswick?”

  “No. Bath is a large town filled with shops and historical buildings.”

  “I have never been on a holiday before,” Belle mused quietly.

  “Well you will love Bath and if you are very well behaved then we may visit the pump rooms,” Eveline laughed deeply, Belle’s eyes glazed as she pictured Bath.

  “What are they?”

  “A very famous writer by the name of Jane Austen mentions the pump rooms in two of her books,” Eveline stated unsure of how to explain Jane Austen to a young child.

  “What do they do? These pump rooms?”

  “Well historically, many visitors would have visited the pump rooms to taste the mineral waters that flowed beneath, for it was said that they had healing powers,” Eveline began as they passed a man who stood leaning against a tree.

  “Do they really have healing powers?” Belle enquired as she stepped over a large root.

  “Well no they don’t,” Eveline smiled unaware that the gentleman was now following them closely behind. “But it was a great place in which to meet new people.”

  “Who is Jane Austen?”

  “She is a famous writer.”

  “Does she still live?”

  “No she is long past gone now, but her books are very well loved by many, especially women,” Eveline retorted gently for she loved to read persuasion.

  “What are her books about?”

  “They are of a romantic nature,” Eveline said lightly. “However they are written in the most beautiful way.”

  “I should like to read her books one day,” Belle said aloud, turning her eyes to the man behind.

  “Perhaps when you are of an age you may,” Eveline smiled, turning her eyes also.

  “Do you think that man is lost?”

  “I hope not,” Eveline muttered, a strange feeling cascading throughout her as the man tilted his hat.

  “How strange he looks,” Belle said
with curious eyes.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I have never seen eyes so black,” Belle quipped, her clasp on Eveline’s hand tightening. “I don’t much like him, may we walk faster?”

  “He means us no harm Belle,” Eveline said with a confidence that betrayed her inner doubts.

  “Then why is he following us?” Belle whispered, bidding Wordsworth to stay at her side.

  “Why he must just be enjoying a walk,” Eveline lied, for the aura the man effused was dark and sinister. Clutching at Belle’s hand, Eveline quickly took a turn from the path and headed off in the direction of the hills. Wordsworth began to growl as the man followed suite, causing both Eveline and Belle to become frightened. “Quick we must run,” Eveline whispered. Together they picked up their pace, leaving Wordsworth behind. “Come along Wordsworth!” Eveline heralded loudly at the Irish wolfhound, whose behaviour had turned violent. Eveline stopped Belle in her tracks and turned to face the man who stood before Wordsworth. His eyes indeed where black and his face very pale. He looked up from the growling dog and sent a shiver down Eveline’s spine before turning on his heels and walking away only turning around once before disappearing through the trees. “Wordsworth come!” Eveline ordered once more as Belle hide behind her legs. The wolfhound turned and ran over to her, coming to stop before her, his eyes filled with alarm. “Good boy!” Eveline cooed, stroking his grey ears vigorously.

  “Can we go home now?” Belle asked, coming out from behind Eveline’s legs and hugging Wordsworth, who now nuzzled her tiny neck.

  “Yes, let’s get home before he returns,” Eveline said darkly, turning on her heels and leading Wordsworth and Belle home, her heart still pounding with fear.

  *

  “I was starting to worry,” Estelle said when Eveline, Belle and Wordsworth entered the cottage quietly.

  “Belle would you take Wordsworth into the kitchen for a moment?” Eveline asked the silent child. Without speaking, Belle took Wordsworth’s collar and led him into the kitchen, leaving Estelle and Eveline alone before a small fire in the living room.