Eveline waited five minutes before entering once she had finished eating her pear. With a breathe she made her way into the once Norman castle, stopping under the elegant archway, letting her gaze sweep down the nave of the building. Six large circular chandeliers hung on both sides of the nave, all of them alight. The cathedral windows were tall and arched, all glass stained showcasing various scenes from the bible. Near to the middle of the nave, two rose stain glassed windows adorned the wall catching Eveline’s eye for a moment. As she stood observing the ancient church, people began to enter making their way towards the front of the nave near to the altar, taking their seats within the pews. Eveline stepped to the side to let the men and women past, keeping her eyes hidden beneath her hat, not wanting to draw attention to herself before finding a seat near to the back. Carefully she took off her hat and set it down beside her legs, deciding to keep her coat on as the church was cold despite the warmth of the candles that illuminated the beautiful building. There were not many people within the congregation Eveline observed noting only about two dozen or so in attendance. To each side of the altar a small choir of boys began to sing, heralding the beginning of the service. Eveline took out her small bible and held it within her hands gently, closing her eyes briefly as the organ filled the church. It had been such a very long time since Eveline had been to church and considering all that was happening to her she felt it right to be sitting in this beautiful and antiquated building. She had always known God and had a cherished relationship with him, despite her aversions to church life. She greatly believed in a higher being, for the gifts she had been given were proof that a higher being existed. Yet she was an avid reader of philosophy and morality and liked to think beyond the confinements of religion. As she sat in silence, consuming the aura and music she felt the hairs on her arms begin to prick and her eyes begin to water, she felt moved and touched but above all she suddenly felt the weight of the burdens upon her shoulders and found in her solace an inability to control her emotions or to keep herself in check as the music fell upon her like a warm embrace.
Quietly she wiped her eyes and tried in vain to compose herself as she watched the minister take his place at the pulpit, opening his bible and awaiting the choir to finish. As the choir sang on a voice deep within began to chant.
“You are of the light.”
Eveline bent her head in submission to the voice and felt her heart flutter at the thought. Men and women for thousands of years had submitted themselves to God, hoping and waiting in desperation to hear or feel Him and here she was sitting amongst them, an angel of light. Never had she felt more alone and burdened than she did sitting within the enchanting yet haunting cathedral. For she had never spoken or heard God in all her years, she simply observed nature and knew Him to be present. How was it possible that she should be chosen to bare the light of angels and not another being more deserving of the gift? How could she serve those around her when she herself was not a traditional Christian? And why was she prey to the Lord of darkness? Why was she the focus of his attention?
Eveline knew not why she has been gifted or set apart, but as the minister opened the service she simply acknowledged that her quiet life in Keswick was about to change in such a way that she would be forever altered.
“The light and peace of Jesus Christ be with you,” the minister began.
“And also with you,” the congregation replied.
“We have come on this evening in the name of Christ to offer our praise and thanksgiving, to hear and receive God’s holy word, to pray for the needs of the world and to seek the forgiveness of our sin’s, that by the power of the Holy Spirit we may give ourselves to the service of God.”
The choir began to sing again and Eveline found her eyes lifting to the altar in admiration of its beauty. As the congregation sang along to the hymn she heard a distant sound akin to sirens and turned her eyes to the door of the church, to where a man stood gazing out at the night sky above him. All at once a whistling sound rang out in the air about her and the choir stopped. Eveline would never know if time had suddenly stilled as the whistling grew louder but she found herself being flung from her chair and cast to the hard wall of the church a thousand lights and sounds filling her head causing her to fall victim to darkness. There was no light as Eveline lay unconscious, the cathedral crumbling about her, the sound of cries and sirens filling her mind. After what seemed an age she finally found the strength to open her eyes , there gaze upon the night sky, now filled with planes that flew overheard, dropping bombs that whistled through the air, falling and exploding close to the cathedral. The air about her was stiff with debris and dust and she could feel the heat of fire close by. With a dizzy head she moved and sat up, discarding a heavy mass of rumble that had fallen upon her body. Blood trickled down the side of her head as she got to her feet and bent over, her throat filled with debris and dust. Coughing wildly she looked about her and raised her hand to her mouth. The beautiful cathedral which had a moment before stood tall and grand had all but collapsed about her, laying in ruins, the night sky filled with red light. As her hearing came back to her she could hear the cries of those stuck under the rumble and the whistling of more bombs as they fell through the air exploding around her. Without thinking and with great shame Eveline carelessly made her way through the rumble, passing the man that had stood within the archway of the door now lying dead and torn beneath the limestone. Beside him was her hat, torn and dismantled. Eveline coughed loudly as the world came back into focus and made her way out through the doorway which was still standing erect. As she stepped out of the church, other disorientated members of the congregation ran before her in desperation, stopping to take in the utter terror that faced them. Embers fell about Eveline as she took in the scene that played out before her. The park once peaceful and tranquil was ablaze, trees lay torn and ripped from the ground and the once lovely buildings of Wine Street had been blown apart, now raging infernos of fire and death. All about her men, women and children ran in every direction not knowing where to hide or how best to protect themselves.
Eveline looked down at her body and noticed that her coat had been ripped from her body as had her blouse, leaving her arms bare but for her silk chemise and her skirt. She had lost one of her leather patent shoes and her shoeless foot was covered in blood from the splintered glass that had caught itself within her skin. Another explosion sounded from behind her and she felt herself fall once more upon the discarded rumble, winded with the heat and debris that swept by her like a strong gale force wind. With dust upon her face and dishevelled hair Eveline got up and began to run directly towards Wine Street which was being pounded by german bombs that whistled coldly, blowing everything about her into smithereens. She was disorientated and knew not where to go as she followed the crowd of equally disorientated and injured people.
*
Estelle sat by her window watching Belle and Wordsworth as they played on the floor together, a deep smile upon her face, causing the lines around her eyes to crease with envy. It had been comforting to spend the day relaxing and resting, everybody feeling the better for it. Things were coming to rights again and her worries had edged away as she observed the young and happy Belle who now laid her head of golden curls upon the wolfhound’s stomach, closing her eyes as exhaustion came over her. Darkness had fallen and as Belle and Wordsworth snored on the floor Estelle finally opened her large leather bound manuscript and set to work, slipping off her shoes and crisscrossing her legs beneath her, sighing with relief. If truth be told, Estelle found herself out of her depth. In many ways she was grateful for the arrival of Galean, he had brought with him revelations that helped lay some of her worries to rest. However she soon realised that the worries that had once plagued her for years over the nature of her children faded only to be replaced by new and deeper concerns. She had never been a religious woman, the First World War had cemented her quiet notions that religion was man’s concoction used to ensnare the ignorant and weak into
submission and control by those who were greedy for power. But when she listened to Galean’s revelations she was shocked and everything she had once been set in stone had suddenly dismantled before her. She found herself at a loss when enlightened as to why her children had been burdened with gifts only heard of in books and myths. As this new revelation slowly took its toll on her Estelle found herself facing the terrifying prospect of her youngest child being killed by a figure she had once believed fictional and mythological, a creature so dark and powerful who from some unknown reason had unleashed hell upon her daughter. It was this piece of information that weighed heavily on Estelle and though she showed strength and courage on the outside, within she was floundering to the terrors and fears that now seeped into her soul. She had no power with which to protect her child, she was ageing and would be unable to stand in the way of her children’s foes. She turned from her blank page and looked down at Belle and wondered what would happen to her, was it right to keep her with them when danger lurked around every corner?
Estelle groaned and set down her pen, there was no use in trying to write when she could not concentrate. She needed answers and needed them fast. Human she was and without the means to spiritually protect her children and Belle but she would and could not simply stand by and watch hideous and monstrous creatures of the dark harm them, even if it meant putting her life on the line. She had always known right from her very first meeting with the young Eveline, shy and withdrawn that she was special, it was not a feeling that sprung from arrogance or ego it was a simple fact, the child was gifted and with those gifts akin to Theodores, they would be able to do incredible things and she believed herself to be their protector and nurturer until such a time came when they would be strong enough to stand alone, stepping out of her shadow and into the light. It was this very reason that gave her strength and encouragement; she did not abuse her children’s gifts or oppress them, she loved them and urged them to grow, hoping that the principles and love instilled in them would help them to stay grounded, that however powerful they became they would always be kind, fair and just, that they would never abuse their powers or use them to abuse others.
She pondered deeply the prospect of Eveline having to use her gifts to overcome the powers of the shadows and wondered if her daughter was strong enough. She knew that beneath the layers of quiet reservation lay determination and strength for she had been witness to Eveline’s anger and that gave to Estelle hope. Whether Eveline had it within her to stand and face all that Estelle feared was about to happen she could not tell and hoped that the presence of her husband would indeed transform her daughter urging her to bring forth that determination and strength she knew her to have. Estelle understood her daughter to have very real notions and opinions on morality and felt a lingering pain deep within as a mother, knowing that her daughter so very mindful of life and death would one day soon have to face morality head on, that she would be pushed beyond her boundaries, forced to make decisions she thought never to make in her life.
With tense shoulders and a headache Estelle got up from her chair and crossed the room to her bed picking up a thick tartan blanket and laying it across Belle who moved slightly at the feel of the warm wool. On her knees, she stroked the child’s thick, golden curls and felt her heart warm to see such innocence on her face. Studying the sleeping duo Estelle kept still until suddenly she was thrown as the windows imploded, the harsh force causing everything within the room to swirl about in the air, smashing into each other. With a cry and a bark, Belle and Wordsworth awoke from their peaceful slumber, both finding themselves cast against a large mahogany cupboard. Estelle, winded and dizzy opened her eyes wide and gasped, the room which had been a brief moment before, neat and whole was now a mess, glass sprayed across the floor and bed, the window table on its side alongside the chairs and the contents of her luggage haphazardly flung from her leather suitcases.
“Estelle!” Belle cried out, getting up onto her feet and running to her guardian who stumbled onto her own feet, wiping off the tiny remnants of glass and debris from her clothes.
“Belle are you alright?” Estelle asked hurriedly as the sounds of sirens rang out loudly. Belle wrapped her arms about Estelle, followed closely by Wordsworth, whose big grey eyes were filled with terror. “It’s alright,” Estelle soothed, taking Belle’s hand and moving to the door which sprung open to reveal a dishevelled Galean.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning the room before falling on Estelle, Belle and the quiet and trembling wolfhound who was now rubbing his body against Galean’s for comfort. “There boy it’s okay,” Galean soothed gently, rubbing the dog’s ear. “Quick we need to get down to the reception now.” Without a word, Galean stood back and waited for Estelle and Belle to walk past, picking up the child in his arms without thinking.
“My teddy!” Belle cried out, her green eyes looking up into Galean’s blue.
“Where is it?” Galean asked walking back into the room.
“On the bed,” Belle said quietly, wrapping her arms about Galean’s neck for comfort as he searched the sheets of the bed finding a small teddy.
“Here,” he murmured, picking up a blanket and throwing it over his shoulder. No one spoke of Eveline as they hurriedly alongside other scared guests made their way down to the reception where they were met by members of staff.
“If you would all follow us down to our bunker please,” a man dressed in a fine black suit announced. Galean looked about him, the windows and doors of the reception had been taken off their hinges and smashed. The crowd of around a dozen or so guests followed the frightened members of staff downstairs to where the wine cellars were located, now used as both a cellar and bunker in times of raids. When they reached the cellar, the door open and awaiting them, Galean stopped.
“I have to find Eveline,” he said softly to Estelle, handing Belle over to her and wrapping the rug over the trembling child.
“I know,” Estelle said with understanding eyes. “Be safe Mr Edwards and bring back my daughter.”
“I will,” Galean said as he stood away from the door Wordsworth refusing to leave his side. “You must stay,” Galean argued with the stubborn dog who barked loudly.
“He may be of use to you Mr Edwards,” Estelle exclaimed loudly among the noise of the guests, who filled the cellars. Galean looked down at the dog who looked up at him with pleading eyes and sighed.
“Very well.”
With one last lingering look Galean turned on his heels and made his way back up the stairs with Wordsworth. When they cautiously made their way out of the hotel they both stopped to take in the sight before them, the dog hugging Galean’s thighs. Above them planes flew overhead in what seemed to be groups of fifty or more, bombs falling from the planes and whistling through the air, exploding close by to them. Glass covered the road and sand bags had been ripped apart, the contents now covering everything and dancing within the dust that fell heavily about those who were frantically running up and down the road not knowing where to go or what to do. Galean noticed that many of the fleeing citizens were badly injured, many of them without clothes. Above him he could hear the sound of aircraft guns atop the roofs of tall buildings, moved into action, trying to shoot down enemy planes. Searchlights filled the thunderous skies, illuminating the planes that passed hurtling incendiary bombs through the thick mass of condescended watery vapour that now reflected the raging fires that consumed the old medieval city of Bristol. A passing fire engine brought Galean back to reality. The road that led to Castle Park was destroyed, filled with small craters and heavy debris. With a glance down at Wordsworth, Galean turned and began to make his way through the rumble, making sure to keep himself and the dog safe. Small crowds of screaming people passed him by as more explosions ripped apart buildings that lay behind Broad Street, the noise reverberating through his body. He knew that beyond the Bristol Bridge there was a communal bunker, it being too dangerous to head back to the hotel as the raid was still taking pla
ce.
It didn’t take long for Galean and Wordsworth to find themselves on Wine Street. They turned a corner and headed right up along the footpath. Across the road, the park was ablaze with fire and in the distance he could see the cathedral now consumed with flames that reached high into the sky. Galean felt terror seize at him, a flashback of his daughter crying out as she was held prisoner to the flames that killed her. Galean fell against the wall of a shop, nausea stirring within him as Wordsworth tried to comfort his new friend. When the image of his daughter had absconded from his mind he lifted his head and took in a deep breathe a plane flying overhead. The entrance to the park lay within half a mile of where he was located, fire engines, Lorries loaded with anti-air craft guns and ambulances flying down the road at full speed. Finding his focus he began to run at full pelt with Wordsworth following, crossing the road and making his way east towards the entrance, passing buildings that were on fire, the heat causing his skin to break with sweat. Finally he came to the entrance of the park and looked around. The air was heavy with dust and it was hard to make anything out due to the fires and noise which caused him to feel slightly disorientated. He bent over himself to take in a deep breathe, his right hand wrapped about the iron bars of the railings. When he lifted his gaze he saw a small mass of people coming forth from the smoke and dust and strained his eyes. Many were badly injured and many were crying in desperation. Galean entered the park and cautiously made his way slowly through the crowd observing those who passed by, some crying at him to leave that the Cathedral had fallen, killing many within. Galean kept Wordsworth close to him as he edged further into the mass of fallen trees, craters, fire and destruction. More explosions erupted into the air over by Castle Street which lay beyond St Peters Church. As he neared the church his fear for Eveline’s life began to increase, she had not been among the fleeing and injured crowd. Suddenly he stopped, alone and encased in smoke, his lungs burning wildly. With his left hand he rubbed at his eyes and nose, bending to wipe away the dust that lingered up Wordsworth’s eyes and nose. The wolfhound began to bark loudly, suddenly bolting forth into the smoke towards a figure that lay upon the ground near to a tree that still stood firm and strong. Galean found himself running at the speed of light, coming to stop before the figure of Eveline who was now being licked by Wordsworth.
One Crown & Two Thrones: The Prophecy Page 16