Aris Reigns

by Devin Morgan

  Soon the battle was at hand. Each hour Her Majesty was brought a dispatch from the fighting. She warned her captains they must keep the fleet from meeting Parma at Calais. She admonished them to hold fast.

  Then, alas, news arrived that the ship of Her Majesty’s cousin, the Lord Admiral, had been surrounded by galleons. My Lady screamed in fury, smashing a precious vase into the stone of the fireplace. With flailing arms, she chased the messenger from her chamber. “We shall overcome, we shall overcome.” She shouted the words again and again until her voice became a hoarse whisper. She sat, staring at nothing, for a very long time. At last she rose from the chair.

  “Send a messenger to my commanders. Victory or death.” She turned to her privy chamber to kneel and pray for an English triumph.

  It seemed for a moment, God took heed. At the turning of the dawn tide, while the Spanish wiped the sleep from their eyes, our little ships danced across the water, threw a line to the Admiral’s ship and towed her to the safety of the open sea.

  Still, storms raged. At last, first blood. One of the war galleons and Philip’s treasure ship surrendered, but what honest advantage were a mere two of three hundred ships gone? And still they lumbered on toward Calais and the waiting Duke of Parma.

  Our only plan was to send fire ships to torch the Spanish fleet before their crucial rendezvous with Parma. As the man in charge of creating the English convoy from hell, Walsingham worked tirelessly in Dover, presiding over the fitting of merchant vessels no longer fit for commercial sailing. They were stripped of their canvas and masts, then covered with tar and pitch. Burning, they would sail into the heart of the Armada bringing death and destruction to the Spanish flotilla. A good plan it was, yet God seemed to have shifted His eyes from the English and answered the prayers of Philips’ praying monks. The weather turned. The fire ships were trapped in Dover, held fast by a changing wind. Dressed for battle, trapped in the harbor, they shuddered and trembled, their aging wood creaking against the raging squall.

  When the Queen heard the news, she was beside herself. In my time of service, I had seen Her Majesty wild with anger, yet never had I seen her so desperately furious. She sent dispatch after dispatch, each one countermanding the one before. It seemed all was lost. I did my best to calm her. I forced her to eat and drink, telling her she must stay strong for her people. Elizabeth lived for England and so at last, she heard my plea.

  Then, a dispatch from Drake arrived. He, Hawkins and eight others pledged ten of their best sailing ships. The finest of their four-masted schooners were to be set ablaze; sails, masts, rigging and all. It was said Hawkins wept openly at the sight of his vessel burning in front of his eyes.

  The ten ships sailed straight and true in perfect formation right into the midst of the Armada. A messenger brought the news to Her Majesty. The Spanish seemed vanquished, their vessels alight and the crews bombarded by fusillades of molten lead. Those that had not sunk or been capsized now limped out to sea, running from the fray. There was great joy as the English knew victory.

  Yet the triumph was short lived. The first of the Queen’s champions to return was Raleigh. Exhaustion showed in every fiber of his being as he reported. It was possible their enemy might simply regroup at sea and attack London by sailing up the Thames River while, still, the Duke of Parma waited to attack from Calais.

  The door of her chamber burst open. My Lord of Leicester entered, Essex trailing close behind. My Lord appeared old and tired compared with the youth and vigor of the younger man. He shook his wearied head in resignation as he spoke. “Parma launches his troops with or without the Armada. All our ships are chasing after the Armada. The Channel stands open to him. We are without defense.”

  Silently, the Queen pondered the faces of her two loyal captains. “The sea be damned, to the land defenses now.” She paced in silence. Halting, she faced Leicester. “Go to our troops. Cheer them as my Lieutenant-General. I will join you at Tilbury to speak to them as their Queen and champion.”

  “Your Majesty, you must not. The Spanish have come to put you off your throne. The Pope has given license to every Catholic in England to take your life. You must not walk among the ranks. You will not be safe among the men.”

  “I have nothing to fear from treachery from my own people. Let tyrants fear. I have always believed in the loyal hearts of my subjects. I go to live or die among them.”

  Leicester’s eyes shown with tears of pride as he bowed a courtier’s bow. He rose up, love pouring from his eyes as he stared into hers. “My Lady, you may have the body of a frail and fragile woman, but you have the heart and stomach of a king.”

  “Go now, my Lords. Prepare a place for your Queen. I will walk among my men and live or die with them battling for the soil of our precious England.”

  Never had I been more proud of her. She sent for her ladies and we dressed her in all her finest. She swore that if her men were to give their lives up for their country, she would give them something to die for.

  She rejected gown after gown as we paraded them before her. At last she chose a gown as white as a dove’s breast. The robe she chose was of the softest white velvet. Then pearls. Hundreds of pearls around her neck, around her waist, dangling from her ears and encircling her fingers. Her wig was sprinkled with them-as plentiful as snowflakes on a winter morn.

  We were awed to silence as she stood before us, warrior and Queen. Her last garment arrived from the Armory just before we set out to Tilbury. A silver breast plate. As we closed it around her, we marveled at the fit. It was small, as if made for her. We surmised it might have belonged to her dead brother, Edward, when he was but a boy. A shimmering silver helmet was carried on a white satin pillow by a page also dressed in white. And now she truly looked the part of the Faerie Queen.

  We set out for Tilbury. The countryside, the hills and valleys in between, was covered with the men and boys who had rallied behind their Monarch. When we arrived, her commanders stood in wait for her, Essex at the side of the Lord of Leicester. All eyes save his were on Elizabeth. I saw him watch me as I attended her. The lust in his eyes frightened me and I was glad none other than I saw. He licked his lips and smiled, the grin wicked and demanding. Quickly I turned away to assist my Queen as she dismounted to walk among her men.

  She touched first one on the shoulder and then another. She spoke with such passion her voice cut through the wind like a knife. Her pledge of her life and limb, to live or die in the dirt with her subjects, brought cheers and shouts of ‘Gloriana.’ They pledged their lives, their souls to her as she wept openly.

  Essex swept her off her feet and praised her courage and fire, yet when he placed her gently back on the ground, his passionate eyes found mine. I hurried away to prepare her tent for her accommodation.

  It was a sleepless night for us all as we waited to hear of Parma. Would he march on without the force of the Armada behind him or would he turn back?

  Finally, at dusk the following day, a messenger arrived. He brought joyous news that Parma had dispersed his men and was sailing back to Spain. When the men heard, their triumphant cries could be heard late into the night. “God bless the Queen.”

  Later I was invited to dine in victory with the Queen in Lord Leicester’s tent. A feast was laid before us that rivaled any at court. Suckling pig and beef and the deepest ruby wine. Satiated and a bit light-headed I begged to return to my sleeping quarters. A tent had been pitched close to the Queen’s so her ladies were at hand to attend to her at a moment’s notice. On my way to my bed, I stopped in front of a campfire abandoned as, one by one, the exhausted men found their sleeping pallets. All was quiet save the soft crackling of the timbers as the flames burned low. The sounds of the royal party some distance away were faint as a soft wind was blowing through the leaves.

  Suddenly from behind, a powerful arm reached to encircle my waist. Frightened, I turned to face a drunken Essex. His eyes were glazed and his breath rank as he tried to kiss me. I fought him, clawing at his face,
beating at his chest. The slap to my cheek was hard and sent me flying to the ground. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me to my feet. Holding both my arms in one of his big hands, he grappled with my skirt trying to rip it off. Sobbing, I begged him to let me go. My pleas seemed to incite his lust all the more.

  Through the quiet of the night, a near-by sound of drunken voices singing off key reached his ears. They were moving toward us through the darkness.

  “If you mention this, I will kill you.” His eyes were slits as he released me and retreated into the shadows.

  “Sarah, I feel we are close. And you were right, I feel no fear as I relive these events in trance. You have made me feel safe. I am truly confident I will know what occurred on the day of my changing. Thank you so much for this time today.”

  “I would have continued, but your voice sounded exhausted. Don’t worry. We’ll find out everything you want to know. After all, Jane, we will have nothing but time.” She smiled as she hugged her Immortal friend.

  CHAPTER 35

  It was the morning of the Changing Ceremony. Sarah sat, wrapped in her robe, waiting for her friends to come for her.

  Jane and Gabriela would take her to a special chamber in the palace for a ritual bath, her last as a human. When she thought of the ordeal before her, she shook and her heart raced. She tried telling herself she would think about it later, but there was no ‘later.’ The time was now, the hour upon her. She sipped her coffee, feeling the heat of the liquid on her tongue, tasting the bitter flavor of the brew and the sweet of the sugar she added to it. “Just like today,” she thought. “The sweetness of everlasting life and the bitterness of the ordeal before it. I must not think of it now, I’ll never go through with it if I think about it.” She wiped her brow, damp with perspiration.

  A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. She rose to open the door. Standing in front of her were her two Immortal friends and she hugged them in welcome.

  Gabriela and Jane sat patiently while Sarah finished her coffee. Chatting aimlessly, each woman knew the only thought on any of their minds. Sarah’s changing.

  Unable to delay any longer, Sarah slipped her feet into the soft shoes she chose to wear as she began her last human journey. Wrapping the long blue silk ceremonial robe more securely around her, she, Gabriela and Jane began their long walk through the corridors to the palace. The streets of the underground village were empty as if in tribute to what the inhabitants of the Catacombs knew would be her coming ordeal. Each of them knew first-hand the excitement and the fear of the changing day.

  The palace gates were flanked by a waiting honor guard who accompanied them to the bathing chamber, a large room lit only by hundreds of candles. A huge tub carved from solid rock and polished until it glistened in the candlelight sat in the center of the room. The walls were hung with the finest of tapestries. Flowers filled every corner. Sarah felt she was in an hypnotic trance of her own as the three women moved toward the scented water of the bath.

  They disrobed their human friend and began to anoint her nude body with an overpoweringly fragrant oil. It was both heady and calming. Their hands on her skin soothed her frightened mind and her breath slowed, at peace as she stepped into the water. Lowering her body into the warm perfumed liquid, she was sure she must be dreaming. How could she, Sarah Hagan, who had never truly faced the complexities of human life, be stepping forward to embrace human death? Her breath grew short as her fear returned.

  Gabriela sensed her anxiety. She began to comb through Sarah’s golden curls. Jane massaged her neck and shoulders until all of her muscles relaxed and she sank gratefully to her chin in the water. Her mind drifted and she felt so serene that she almost slept.

  After a time, Jane touched her shoulder. “It is time, Sarah. Here, let me help you from the bath.”

  Her damp body glistened in the candlelight as her friends, once again, massaged scented oil into her skin. This was different. Her skin felt strange, slightly numb. Her hair was combed and her beautiful blue dress slipped over her head. Once again, she stepped into her shoes ready to go before Queen Akira, ready to see her beloved and join him for eternity.

  Walking on either side of her, Gabriela and Jane accompanied her into the great audience hall where the chosen one hundred Immortals waited to welcome her to the changing ritual.

  Aris’ boots echoed on the stone outside the audience chamber. Sebastian held back a smile. He had never seen his friend so agitated.

  “But what if I am unable to stop? What if I kill her?”

  “Be calm, my friend. Your love will keep you from being overcome with blood lust. You will not kill your soul-mate. Good God, you have waded through time and space to find her. You have wooed her and won her. Do you actually think that after all of this, you will drain her dry?”

  The pacing stopped as he turned to face Sebastian. “I only hope. I have not tasted human blood for centuries. Before my life as an Immortal, I was a brutal warrior. I killed with a heart overflowing with joy. Sebastian, what if that warrior returns? I fear my own nature. I was a killer as a human, a killing machine as a vampire. Only you and the Immortals showed me a different way. Oh God, what if that nature is not gone, just in hiding?” He buried his face in his hands in torment.

  “Aris. Enough. Your nature is not evil. The Spanish vampires are evil, not you. You took the Blood Oath and have lived by it since the day you swore you would never take another human life by drinking blood. You have lived in honor. Even in your rage against those who killed the man who lived in your host body. When you took their wicked lives, you did not drink their blood. Please, brother, be calm. On this day your devotion that lasted over five hundred years is returned by the human that grew to love you now. Be at peace. This is your wedding day.”

  Aris threw his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders, thanking him for being such a friend. Sebastian patted his back then turned him to face the door to the audience chamber as it slowly opened. Richard stood in the doorway, smiling. “Come, Aris. It is time to greet your bride.”

  Chapter 36

  They entered the audience chamber through opposite doors. The one hundred Immortals chosen to attend the ceremony parted, stepping aside to form an aisle for the lovers to walk through. Sarah’s eyes glistened with anticipation as well as something else. He knew it was fear. Compassion filled Aris’ heart as she drew near. He knew his own terror. Could he stop once he began to drink from her? How could he bear to see her suffer by his own hand? Would he be able to continue her torture for three days? If he was unable to complete the transfer of blood to venom, he would lose her forever. He was torn by his own quarreling emotions; deepest dread for the pain he would cause her, abject joy at eternity with her by his side. It was another moment since he had known her he was sure he was going mad.

  When she reached his side, she looked into his eyes and smiled while reaching to take his hand in hers. The open trust she felt for him began to dissolve all his horrors. He would overcome any wildness left in his nature. He would bring her to him with all the tenderness and adoration that he felt for her. At last, she was here with him. His joy was greater than he could have ever imagined as they knelt before Queen Akira. For this great occasion, King Khansu was present. It had been centuries since any of the court had seen their King. His withdrawal had been complete until today. And there he sat on the dais with his Queen to honor their union.

  Sarah had not been expecting both the King and Queen and she gripped Aris’ hand hard as she faced the royal pair. “All is well.” His whisper was heard by no one but his mate. Breathing deeply, she softened her hold on his fingers.

  A beautiful young vampire male stepped onto the dais carrying a golden vessel encrusted with jewels. It rested in the center of a gilded tray. Holding the tray in both hands, he knelt on one of the blue velvet cushions on the floor. Akira took the ceremonial pitcher from him. As she raised it above the heads of the two being joined, the young man backed from the room.

  Aris nodded to Sarah
to kneel on the cushions before the Queen. She bowed her head as Akira drew near. Tilting the vessel, she slowly poured a few drops of the warm scented oil onto the shoulders of the waiting human. Massaging slowly, gently, she repeated the first lines of the Changing Ritual that had been used since the first human had chosen to become Immortal.

  “I relieve you of the burden of the sorrow of killing to live, a life for a life.”

  Sarah was grateful that she would never need to take a life to live. She was grateful for the alchemical blood that would sustain her for eternity as she lifted her face toward her new Queen. For a moment, she thought she saw compassion in the eyes of the Immortal monarch as a few drops of oil were sprinkled onto her forehead.

  Akira pressed gently as she made small circles with her fingers, rubbing the oil into Sarah’s human skin.

  She chanted, “To open your mind to the knowledge of the millennia held in the memory of your chosen one.”

  Aris reached to take Sarah’s arm, raising her to her feet. She stepped from her shoes as she lifted her skirt to her knees. Akira poured small drops of oil onto her feet. “That you may walk with the pride of an Immortal through all eternity.”

  Khansu rose from his throne to step closer to the couple. He reached to touch each one on their brow in his blessing; first Sarah then Aris. Akira did the same. Now joined as mates through the Immortal ritual the couple bowed, then backed from the room. The moment was now at hand for them to be joined by blood. Sarah fought to keep her knees from buckling as they walked toward their chamber.