His grandmother’s footsteps came pacing behind the desk, and stood before a tall wooden bookshelf. From where the pair sat, the two trespassers huddled beneath the writing desk, they were in very real danger of being seen, but fortunately the feet never turned toward their direction.
Scraping across the attic floor, that massive bookcase began to move, and then suddenly his grandmother’s feet lifted up softly, disappearing into nothing. (Except that they hadn’t actually disappeared into nothing, but into the secret gable room.)
���Let’s get out of here,��� Timothy whispered, as faintly as he could.
���What? And miss this?��� Barbara replied, springing out from underneath the desk, and in the low lit attic study, the two curious intruders went on their toes toward an unexpected little window that had been, for some reason, hidden behind his grandmother’s bookshelf.
(Dear reader, you must allow them their surprise at this moment. For though you may have read the first of these adventures, and will know quite well what to expect behind that tiny window curtain. Yet notwithstanding, here at this point, Barbara and Timothy knew very little about globe travel, nor had they any clue of what they might find. And the entire event: the flecks of starlight on their faces, the sight of Matilde Wolcott turning a small brass crank at the side of a peculiar ancient looking globe, the bands of light that spun outward, splashing against the high walls of that circular room, all of it was so new it burned inside of them, and the most bizarre, yet beautiful, otherworldly occurrence that either had yet known.)
When, after some more determined turning of that seemingly common looking brass crank, when finally Matilde looked satisfied with her efforts, and when the globe glowed brightly, she reached her fingers gently into the green bottle, pulling outward a little pointed tip of paper. She touched the slightest edge of that paper, which she held still within the bottle, and that bottle within her hands, the smallest sliver of writing paper hit the globe and a flash of golden-white light surged upward from the globe, as if the wind had carried it.
From their point of view, even within the other room, gazing inward, they could now hear a high piercing ringing sound. The bottle began to float, out of Matilde’s hand, up into the air, with what seemed to be a circle of pure visible sun rays inclosing around it.
Then a blinding cannon of explosive light, and the bottle was gone. It was possibly flown into what seemed to be a massive lifelike painting that looked to stretch the length of one whole wall, but the intensity of the light made it hard to know for sure.
However, that was not the worst of it, at present they couldn’t see anything at all. The flash of brightness, into their low lit room shocked and temporarily blurred their vision, like the brilliance of a thousand candles all at once.
Timothy rubbed his eyes, squinting, but to no effect. Footsteps, again.
���Timothy Rodger Hayfield!��� he heard his grandmother calling out his full given birth name. ���I’d very well hope you can explain to me what you’re doing here in my study, and who this young girl is, here in my house after midnight… and you’d better do it quick.��� He rubbed his eyes again, just able to make out the shape of his grandmother’s very irritated face, glaring at him from inside the window room.
���Is it too late for us to go to the party?��� he asked, not knowing what else he could possibly say for himself at that moment.
���Ha!��� Barbara blurted out a laugh, but almost as quickly as she had done so she threw her hand up to cover her mouth.
And it was much to both of their benefits that Timothy’s grandmother, Matilde Wolcott, was no stranger to getting in trouble herself. And moreover, if he could have seen it at the time, he would have noticed a slight girlish grin flicker across his grandmother’s not so wrinkled face.
Chapter Eight
A Warning
About an hour before the first clips of sunrise were scheduled to spread out across the trees and countryside of Mayfield, a very weary, unslept Barbara Cholley was finally sent away to sneak back to her dormitory, just in time for her last day of school for the term, and a test in Algebra that she’d been vastly unprepared for.
In truth, she might have left much sooner, for it took that poor girl barely a few minutes to introduce herself, and to describe in full how she had come to be there that night, and also for Timothy to explain his involvement in the matter.
But what had taken far longer were Matilde’s stories: of the window room and Delany Calbefur, and of Gleomu, and princes, and kingdoms, and worlds beyond our own. They were all treasured stories which Matilde had long wished to tell, but that she had been forced to keep secret from nearly every person for whom she had cared most deeply. And until that night, she had been the last remaining person on earth who had known of that hidden room, and it felt freeing for her to tell of it.
Though nearing the end of her stories, by then, Timothy was practically shamefully begging to be taken along to King Corwan’s birthday celebration, and Barbara must have said three or four times over, without even realizing that she’d been repeating herself, that how much fun a king’s birthday must be.
So that just after all of Matilde’s stories were told for the night, by that time Barbara had finally mustered the courage to ask for herself, a request that had caught both of her new hosts completely off their guard.
���I’d also like to come along, as well, Mrs. Wolcott,��� she said, tucking her hair shyly behind her ear, ���…if it’s not too much trouble.���
Both Timothy and Matilde were quite shocked by this request. ���But what about your parents, dear?��� Matilde asked her in return. (Considering rightly, that that morning began the last day of courses for the term.)
���Oh, they won’t mind,��� Barbara answered, like she could be certain of it, but seeing that this response had needed further explanation, she went on to describe her most inevitable plans for the summer.
For you see, Barbara Cholley was what some of the other girls at Mayfield had distastefully liked to refer to as an ���orphan���. But not a real orphan, mind you. By the way that they used the word, it meant someone whose parents did not care enough for them to bring them home over holidays.
Though truthfully, Barbara’s parents were not all that bad, as people go, (they gave to favorite charities, and were well liked at society functions) but they were horrid parents, and more specifically Barbara’s mother, although neither was really all that affectionate. And consequently, they had both much rather preferred to spend this particular summer in Madrid, than to be bothered by their only daughter.
Howbeit, in response to her request, Matilde had said she’d needed more time to think it over; And furthermore, that it was ultimately not her choice to make, that all new travelers to Gleomu would first need ���royal approval���, but that she would inform them of the King’s decision before nightfall.
The early morning hours on the hills of Mayfield were beginning to wane. Soon the sun would be visible across the field, giving Barbara a ghastly hard time if she’d wanted to make it safely back to her dormitory without being noticed.
Even still, Matilde knew it was not fair or right for her to simply leave her new novice globe travelers there that evening without a proper caution for the true dangers it presented, and so before she had finished completely she gave them this solemn warning (possibly brought about by Timothy, who had joined in with Barbara to say how much ���fun��� this adventure was going to be, and how all his friends back home would surely be jealous if they’d heard about it):
���This is not a toy, my dear, or something to be done lightly. This is a very dangerous secret we all now hold… and it must remain a secret if we are to have any safety in it.��� And then the old woman, who had once been Mattie Hardy, reached across the kitchen table dramatically, taking ahold of their hands tightly. ���To travel beyond our world is to change this
present one forever, and I shall give you both till the end of the day to reconsider.���
Then they all rose up from the table, and Barbara was shuffled out the door and away from Wolcott Manor, the damp morning dew just beginning to feel palpable against her skin.
Perhaps that old house was even more foreboding and mysterious than she had first realized. And that morning, she slept through the last fifteen minutes of her algebra exam, dreaming of kings’ birthday cakes and women in ankle length festival dresses, where everything was most regal and proper. Till that moment, it was the grandest dream she’d ever remembered, and well worth the scolding she’d received from Schoolmaster Collins.
Chapter Nine
A Better Dress
Horse hoofs glistened off the wet grasses, striking the plains, nearing the distant city of Ismere with a determined fury. Both horse and rider looked as though they had long ago ceased resting. The animal’s brown and ashy muscular hide blended evenly into the rider’s own tanned skin, and together they galloped in stride toward the northern gate of the great sand-stoned city as one, resolute in their natures.
The city walls were almost barely unseen, like a small pebble on the horizon, beneath the gaze of much larger distant mountains. The thin light of early dawn reflected behind the snowcaps, and moved delicately upwards in the morning sky, until it mirrored against a cool and peaceful lake near the city. Ismere, the jewel of Gleomu and its principal city, stood as an ever vigilant watchman over those long undivided plains.
And the horse and his rider continued on, hoping to make their rest in the King’s palace by midmorning.
It was most beneficial for all involved that Mrs. Wolcott was on good terms with the proprietors and schoolmasters at Mayfield, especially with Head Governess Leeching, who thought it to be a perfectly splendid idea to house one of her ���orphans��� at the Wolcott residence for the summer. ���One less brat to worry about,��� were the Governess’s exact words.
And so it happened, that by late afternoon Barbara had packed up most of her things into a large clasped suitcase, and after wishing her goodbyes to the few somber ���orphan��� girls who’d remained, she carried her weighty luggage, heaving and dragging it the last bit of the way up the dirt footpath toward the old manor on the hill. And she was warmly welcomed in, by that same old woman whom she’d just hours earlier mistakenly believed to be an evil murderess.
���Are you sure about this, my dear?��� Matilde asked her wide-eyed and hopeful looking new house guest.
���Yes, of course, Mrs. Wolcott,��� answered Barbara. ���It feels like you’ve rescued me from the most boring holiday of my life,��� she continued, setting her overpacked luggage down in the entryway of her new summer home.
Opening the door down the hall, Timothy burst from his room. He was busy fastening the last collar button on a forest green tunic, and looking rather respectable, although that was soon ended.
���Is that what you’re going to wear to the party?��� Timothy said, prodding in an unwittingly rude manner, at Barbara who stood at their doorstep, still dressed in her school uniform, which was measurably shabby by comparison.
���Nooo…��� she answered, slightly rolling her eyes. And his grandmother gave him a less than approving look as well, although Timothy had no idea what for.
���Come on,��� Matilde said reaching for Barbara’s hand. ���I have whole wardrobes filled with gowns, from my early years in Gleomu. Surely we can find something that’ll fit.���
And with that, the two girls went rushing upstairs to see what they might find. Leaving Timothy, alone at the base of the stairs, thinking over how he shall never be able to understand women. (Though granted he did not stand around idly, being bothered by it for very long, not as adventurous as this evening was supposed to be.)
Much later that night, the three travelers stood in the window room, as the vivid starlight and glowing vignettes of Gleomu poured out of that giant lifelike painting onto their washed and ready faces.
After many failed attempts, and after hours of searching through old closet drawers, and through chests tucked away in seldom visited corners of that great house, the two women had found astoundingly lovely dresses to wear, ones most suited for royal company; Matilde wore a watery lake blue gown, and her hair was elegantly braided, and Barbara, quite determined to make her best impression, had scoured every closet and wardrobe, till she had come upon a dress that was just her size, a crimson and snow white renaissance-styled dress with golden stitching, of real gold, and a reddened sash in her hair of the same color as her dress.
And when all was prepared, they were arrived at last, in the dark of that hidden gable room, as Matilde gave her final instructions about globe travel. Telling her eager companions that they were free to explore the palace and the city of Ismere, and free to roam around that world to their heart’s content. Except that, when their time was up they would need to be near her, or else they’d run the very real risk of being left behind.
���Forever?��� Barbara asked, thinking she might need to reconsider agreeing to such a dangerous, or potentially permanent, summer’s holiday.
���No,��� the old woman said, chuckling at her. ���I’ll come back for you… But still, it’s no fun to be left alone, just take my word for it.���
���How long have we got for exploring, again?��� Timothy questioned, also seeming nervous at the thought of being stranded on a distant planet.
���Three days, exactly,��� his grandmother answered, pointing once more toward the dials on the globe that set their time. ���Do I need to repeat the process for you?��� she asked him.
���I suppose… but maybe more slowly this time?��� he replied.
Matilde was very fond of her grandson, and did not mind, in the least, repeating herself. ���Alright… once more,��� she said, and went back through each step again, demonstrating and announcing each movement as she did so, and ending lastly with the turning of the brass crank to charge the globe. (And she let each one have their own try at the crank to get the feel of it. As Timothy began turning the unassuming old brass crank that mechanism started awakening, it twirled and ticked and glowed from deep inside its center.)
And their guide leaned over the globe, pointing toward a specific location on its face.
���See where my finger is?��� she asked them, when at last she had concluded her lesson. And they both nodded to show that they had. ���You must touch, right… here,��� she motioned, being infinitely precise in her movements.
The tenderest tip of her finger hit the body of the globe, and a wave of light struck their faces. They were being lifted into the air, holding with fingers clasped onto Matilde’s slightly wrinkled hands.
���Why three days?��� Barbara yelled out as an orb of light condensed around them. ���I thought we were just going to a party.���
Matilde smiled as if she had known better than they.
���This is a king’s birthday, my dear.���
Flash!
The gable room had disappeared, and what remained was speed, and infinite light. (And although Timothy would swear against it, both he and Barbara had screamed more loudly than they would have liked.)
Chapter Ten
Something So Beautiful
The three catapulted through the universe at a velocity that, only a few minutes prior, neither young traveler had thought humanly possible. Inside their orb was neither wind nor noise, and the stars moved by in burning silence. To their left, they soared past a mammoth gaseous planet, orbited by several reddish colored moons.
���Is that… that,��� asked Timothy, trying to recall the exact right planet’s name in his excitement. ���…Jupiter, grandmum?���
���No, deary,��� she answered, still holding tightly to both of their
hands. ���We’re many solar systems away from that by now, and nearly beyond our portion of the galaxy.���
And Matilde, who had always been aptly good at science, even since she’d been in primary school, could not, by habit, continue on without stating this fact, one that had been obvious only to her, ���…and besides, at this time of the year, Jupiter would have been in the opposite direction.���
And for a long while they traveled through the expanse of space without saying much of anything, until Barbara could no longer contain the awe she felt.
���No way…��� she said, softly disbelieving.
Her mouth hung open in wonderment, as their orb rocketed through a four sun solar system (which, if you’ve the chance to see one up close, is actually quite marvelous, and is mechanically much more complex than our own single sun system: which in itself should only be classified as ���simple��� by comparison.)
Barbara reached to tap Timothy on the shoulder. ���Do you believe this?��� she asked him.
But he’d looked as overawed by it as she had. ���I’m trying to,��� he answered.
Yet after some more minutes of flying, his face grew tight with what seemed like concern, as if he were forming a necessary question, or like he’d been slowly growing mad about something, only something he could not exactly put a finger on, nor give a name to.
���Why not tell mother and father about this?��� he blurted quickly, like his words were uncontrollable. ��� …Or anyone else for that matter. Did grandfather know about this?��� he questioned. And muttered finally, ���Seems awfully selfish to keep such a great thing hidden away from people.���
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 12