"Yes! I was curious about the similarity in his appearance to him and Brook! I wondered at the worry that you both expressed in him, the evening of the rain, and also the privileges that you both indulge him with."
Lloyd, however, did not tell her that he already knew that which she had told him. As before, he found that it was not his place to inform on that which should be done by someone closer.
"You will stay here, won't you?"
"I will, for as long as I am permitted, my Lady. I do owe my life!"
She thanked the eternal God that they were blessed with this man's presence in their home, and then commenced to tell him more about Boy and the fact that Brook didn't know that Boy was his son.
"He was born Boyce Loebh Scullion-Blue, in my father's land of Hennai." she revealed to Lloyd, and he listened with interest to, the already familiar parable.
CHAPTER SIX
The mask of darkened night had passed-over and covered the face of the land until, the rising sun, brought into play the motions of the morning life. People's voice covered the singing poetry of the sparrow and the cooing of the falcon-cranes, that glided on high, with the gods.
As the night progressed, Brook sat in his viewing room and pondered the problems that he knew were destroying the unity of his beloved land. This pretty land that had once surged with the majesty and splendour, created by his father, descended from The Blue.
When the day broke, Brook emerged from his diversion of thought. His mind and soul were determined to make strong his rightful rule in the land.
With Lloyd at his house, knowing Dearborne was safe, he made his way to
Canon's Butte to the Halls Cathedral, and the ArchBishop.
The streets were crowded with people that morning, for the Week of
Jubilee began on that day.
Slowly, he trod on the walkways by the emporiums and through the square, where he gave his 'good days!', to Empal and other loyal friends who stepped aside, and let him pass without a struggle.
He spoke to his subjects during his walk, and offered some bits of confidence to them and received some in return. Strength returned to him and his apprehensions about his meeting with the ArchBishop decreased in severity. With his faith in good and his will prepared to conquer evil, through a show of strength, he replaced his insecurity.
But evil played the game well and the roles of strength were weighed in a balance by patience and peace. Both were prodded and teased by temptation and mistrust, and attempted to tip the scales in favour of the incubation.
Brook stood in the confines of the cleric's office and looked out the window at the water fountain below, where the vicars and novices pruned the grass and floral scape, and had some fun. They bathed their white skins on this day, allowed for this Week of Jubilee to be without their habits when within the walled grounds of the Cathedral. Their abundant loin-clothes flapped about in the slight breeze that blew off the ocean nearby. So close, in fact, that one would be able to see it from the windows of Halls' southern most parts.
Brook waited a long time. He was apprehensive about seeing the ArchBishop. After all the times that Brook denied his own conference to him, he was now himself being refused the immediate audience that he demanded.
Brook became nerved and enraged but he knew that he'd dare not leave now, for it would show defeat on his foe's ground and on his foe's terms. He knew, that to choose the humility of his waiting for a subordinate, would moreso be forgotten than if he were to retreat from the stand-off with the ArchBishop, and his weapon of time and patience.
He brewed hateful thoughts within him mind. He cursed and prayed for God's vengeance to be his, upon the entrance of his adversary. He was aware of the ignoble egotism in the ArchBishop, with his delusions of holiness and the calling of himself: "The Almighty". But Brook knew what excrement this holy man really was and the utter evil that he possessed, inherited directly from the ancient Canon Di'Vaticanus.
He waited and then waited some more, nearly reaching a point which lacked a noble virtue. Brook waited until the ArchBishop bounded in through his iron-twined door, as if he were a majesty himself.
They stood far apart and silent. The entire length of the room loomed in silent space between them while they just glared at one another.
Finally, the ArchBishop's ill-meaning smile skirted his face as he sat down behind his desk. He never took his eyes off his Lord and master Scullion, until he was first to speak. Brook waited for the most heartless sign of homage, if he was to receive one at all. He never.
"How are you, my … brother?" mumbled the ArchBishop. His voice carried overtones of mockery, intended to disturb.
Brook moved to the man's desk, his eyes fixed on his brow and the evil smile, which looked as if painted onto his face, until he, too, finally reverberated.
"You tread on soft ground, brother! Your delusions of grandeur have carried your mind off into another space."
"I don't understand?" the ArchBishop's smile left his face momentarily.
Brook laid his palms on the surface of the grand cleric's desk top and mocked him in turn. "What?" Brook laughed. "The Almighty not understand something? Come now brother … I was made to wait here too long, and for you!" He lifted his hands from the desk and made his way back towards the window. "Maybe I should have you tried. Made an example of; should I not, my dearest brother?" He reached the window and looked out of it to the fountain below. The same time, he slightly grinned, knowing the effects that he caused to come over the ArchBishop's mind. No sooner did Brook finish speaking, did the cleric challenge him.
"Make yourself clear, Brook. State your business and take your leave!" blurted the man in the holy garb.
Brook's grin left him as he swung around and poked his hand into the air, in the direction of the religious leader, and stared right into his now pale eyes.
"You are but a mere man — and not even so — and you can bleed!" He ceased for a moment and saw a spark of fear flame over the ArchBishop's face as he twitched in his chair.
"Yes, my brother … You can bleed. Wouldn't a real god be immune to bodily injury? A real god would not sit on his … broad alter and live off his people, growing fat from their love and their worship and yet give them nothing in return. Not only that … you had sent for me — so, unless you inform me as to what you want … you may take your leave!"
"Good speech. State your — "
" — Your tongue will be silenced either by my command or by my hand, Manguino! I shall give you leave, if I care to, and for good." Brook's words, the strength of their usage, greatly startled the great ArchBishop who sat back in his chair and blinked aimlessly as the sovereign continued, after some silence. "Word has reached me, that you are starving several of the united districts, in the north, with an embargo on their trade! As of this moment that will cease and with that, extra trade will commence between Phoride and Besten. It has been long enough, that you have had your petty vengeance on them."
"You agreed on that embargo!" Manguino advanced.
"Yes. Now I change my mind. Your 'will' be … none!"
Brook turned his head and focused his eyes upon Manguino.
Silence clutched the room again. Brook stood majestic and powerful in the presence of his brother. The evil high priest, Manguino, was now totally disturbed by Brook's show of strength and power.
"It would not have made a difference!" Manguino said as he pushed himself from his chair and moved over to where his brother stood.
"I will make the difference now! As of this moment." Brook shouted at him. "You … you may only follow. You will not be permitted to exercise your power unwisely."
The sovereign's judgement had been made and the idea frightened Manguino and choked the room with a silence that removed hope of the existence of any breath.
Manguino turned back to his desk. The silence created a term of indecision in him that he had not experienced since before Smith Blue died.
As if against his will, Manguino found himself leafing through some papers on the corner of his desk, desperately trying to formulate a plan in his mind to rebuke Brook. Instead, however, he found himself writing and signing a retraction to the trade embargo. He stretched out his hand, holding the document in offering, to Brook.
"How do you mean this return of trade to take place? By the week, month or year?" asked Manguino, his tone sounding significantly defeated.
"By month. I suppose that this would be reasonable!" An expression of shock came over the ArchBishop. He whined like a child, then took control of himself and finally showed his anger.
"Reasonable? Treating them like our masters and that, you say, is reasonable?" he stopped for a moment and wondered if Brook was indeed sane, then laughed a little in a half-hearted manner.
Brook proceeded.
"Yes, I believe that a monthly caravan should suffice. They would prove more profitable to us as our friends than as our enemies."
"Why don't we send them goods every day? mocked Manguino.
"Careful, Manguino! You tempt the wrong feelings in my heart. Anyway, if Phoride could survive the strain, I would consider daily caravans. And now onto another annoyance." He looked at Manguino with contemptible eyes, intended as prejudgment on his brother. "I shall not tolerate any further words between the Cardinal Allen and my wife. If I learn that he speaks with her, or another other woman of my household, just once more, I will have him arrested and whipped until death." he turned to Manguino and sneered a grin suggesting a pleasurable thought. "I might even do it myself!"
"I don't know what you are talking about!" defended Manguino, seemingly innocent of the fact that the Cardinal Allen tried to force his will on the Lord's spouse.
"Oh?" is the only response Brook made, then added, "Well, make certain you do not continue with this ignorance, within your own ranks. You would not appreciate the subsequent consequences!" Manguino lowered his head and looked to the floor, but in realization of his defeated mannerisms he quickly straightened and eyed Brook as he moved towards the door of the office. He opened it and before making his exit, he quickly turned to give him one last icy glare.
"You will never again keep me waiting." commanded the sovereign and Manguino tipped his head with unwanted compliance, realizing this meeting was a bounty in favour of his rival brother, Brook.
Manguino, the grand. The great ArchBishop of all Phoride and the continent, slowly dragged himself back to his desk and sat in his chair. Back in it all the way, he breathed heavily a few times and contemplated the last few minutes that had elapsed and Brook's conquest of wills. 'What to do?', was the only question that paraded about Manguino's mind. Finally, the answer came to him. He would have his revenge in a short fortnight, during the celebrations to commemorate the wedding between Brook and his beloved Dearborne. Cardinal Allen will have his pleasure on that night and so would the ArchBishop entertain his satisfaction. He will have the triumph over his noble brother, in the midst of the highest citizens of Pomperaque. He would ruin his brother forever. He smiled to himself and mumbled under his breath, and the gleam of a maybe victory flashed across his eyes.
"Yes, that would be perfect." he said and repeated it, then with this he proceeded to scribble on some clean paper, a request for accompaniment to some select cardinals, for that evening of merry-making.
As the great keeper of Halls set his plans of abasement to honour his brother, another man was alive as a loyal servant, keeping true his word to his master.
Sitting in Brook's chair, in the viewing den, Lloyd leafed through the large book. The night before, he sat up to all hours and listened to the Lady Dearborne as she conveyed to him the circumstances surrounding her husband's apparent meekness, and their son, Boyce. While he read the great book he remembered what Brook had told him about his noble heritage, and the emergence of the elite group of people, that followed the global devastation long ago.
Lloyd observed the details of the colourful pictures that showed the way of life in the age before the time of chaos. He read the ancient lines which spoke of the great rulers of that time. Those men that tried to prevent war at any cost, and others who wanted it, at any cost.
His eyes loomed across the words spoken by the great presidential leader of this ancient land. His thoughts that were spoken the very day that his life was taken from him by an assassin, hired by some warmonger.
"We're called a civilized people. Let us behave as civilized people. Do not let war shatter our tiny planet for the benefit of just a few, who would profit from it — become rich and powerful from the death of those weaker than themselves. Let us seek a world unity — a brotherhood of love — before it is too late … before we give our all, for nothing!"
Lloyd sighed. The power and spirit behind those words still rang true, even to this day. Where every land was under its own governing directions, ruled by no central idea or council and indeed, being nothing more than a communal feudalism.
He continued to turn the pages of the great book, THE HISTORY OF NORTH AMERICA, and stared in amazement at its details, almost right up to the very day of the holocaust. That detail was mainly in the last few pages which appeared to have been put into the book, at a much later time. He saw that someone did not want a noble life, a great civilization, to die and be forgotten forever. How, to him, the book began to take-on an almost holy aura that drew him deeper and deeper into the words' strength, until a tear issued from his eye and slowly meandered down his fleshy cheek.
He wiped the tear from his cheek, in one motion of the back of his hand. Boyce rumbled into the den carrying a tray of food and drink, and quietly set it on the table by Lloyd.
"I have brought you food, my Lord!" informed the boy.
Lloyd looked up from the book and smiled as he thanked the boy and requested him to join in the eating. Hesitant, the boy suspiciously looked at Lloyd with questions in his eyes. He nodded and smiled, then boy finally moved to the corner and brought back a stool, and so sat by him.
Lloyd motioned to Boyce to take some food and not knowing what else to do in this circumstance, he took a piece of the roasted fowl and smiled before he bit into it.
"Thank-you, my Lord!" the boy exclaimed.
"You are welcome." returned Lloyd, and continued. "Say, Boy. You will call me Lloyd … I have had enough people call me sir and Lord!"
"Thank-you … Lloyd!" Boyce responded, startled by the show if friendship offered to him by the injured man that he helped to carry back to the Blue Mansion.
They ate the dinner.
They didn't say much to one another while they ate. Lloyd resumed his reading of the great book and the boy looked-on at Lloyd's changing expression, his eyes almost bursting into a fall of tears, throughout it all.
Lloyd looked up from the book, at times, and caught the boy's eyes locked onto him as he read. "My Lord Brook promised to teach me to read that," Boyce stated, "but he has not found the time!" He looked hollow for a moment and a feeling of loneliness seemed to hover over him until Lloyd, with a compassionate voice, grabbed the boy's craving for some adult rapport.
"Brook had asked me to teach you. Would you like that?"
"Yes." Boyce's answer was short and direct, and full of obvious excitement. He continued to eat.
"I spoke to Lady Dearborne yesterday."
"She's a very nice lady!" added Boyce. He looked up at Lloyd and smiled, and Lloyd just laughed.
"That she is, Boyce, and you are very fortunate that she and Brook are your parents."
Boyce was astonished. He stopped eating, looked at the meat that he was holding then slowly dropped it back onto the tray. He stood up and aimlessly started to walk a few steps away from Lloyd.
Through the hush of the room could be heard the sounds of life echoing-in from off the streets. There were short playful screams of the little girls being teased by the boys. Boyce faced Lloyd. After eyeing him for a time, he finally spoke.
"She told you? — Why?" he said, as if in order.
Lloyd nodded.
"Will you tell my father?"
Lloyd's face showed apprehension, and he answered the boy.
"No, I won't. But I have a strong feeling that he may already know." he ceased for a moment and grinned a little. "Afterall, you do look more like him with each passing day."
Once again there was a short silence between them but it was broken up by some sighs and a welcomed laugh from Boyce.
"Yes, that is true. Perhaps that is why he asked you to teach me?"
"I cannot begin to know what goes on in someone's mind, but that just may be, my young friend."
With their confirming smile and nod, they acknowledged their new friendship.
There was a powerful understanding which formed between them. The presence of it could be felt within the room and it was then that Lloyd made a suggestion.
"Shall we start the lessons?"
Excited, Boyce nodded that he would like that.
"Can you read?"
Boyce shrugged with an embarrassed grin.
"I know the old alphabet … my grandfather taught me, but I can't understand very much.
Lloyd showed his understanding with a nod, and begged Boyce to sit again on the stool, and when he did, Lloyd handed him the book.
"I will do what I can to teach you, young Lord." Lloyd promised then allowed Boyce to leaf through the pages to familiarize himself with the contents. He turned to a large and colourful map and began to read slowly:
"The North American continent stretches between two oceans and from the northern icecaps to the southern tropics. Its land varies from mountains and prairies, to dense marches and arid deserts. The people of North America are united under a political ideology known as DEMOCRACY, which prime advantage lies in the FREEDOMS given to each individual citizen."
Boyce finished his time consuming and irregular method of reading and smiled as he looked up at Lloyd. He waited for a response.
"You did well, Boyce!"
"Tell me, Lloyd … are we Americans?"
Lloyd quietly pondered the question for a moment then eased back in his chair and tried to answer his anxious pupil.
"In some ways, yes! Every one of us cherish freedom and would like to be proud of our land, rather than collect into small individual districts and territories which are hostile to one another! Lloyd finished, feeling that he had adequately answered the boy's question. He waited for another question, which came quickly.
"I can't understand, how such a strong land could be destroyed?"
"Every living man wanted power. There was tension and there were wars and the people lost faith in those who governed them. Then came the final war. Those who were greedy and survived and those who were of great intellect, took command of the land. Both called themselves Kings, Queens and Lords. Both, to some extent, ruled with fear. We still have this, but there are some men that are sore from this dark heritage. Men like my father and your father."
"And I, also!" stated Boyce, his face lighting up with the spark of freedom that touched his spirit.
"We all learn, my friend," said Lloyd. "you now learn about a once hectic life and subdued value. We now have only these memories and there are some men that would even deny us this."
Boyce shook his head, understanding what Lloyd meant and then followed the motion of his hand that instructed him to continue reading. This time he read the leaflets, added by some obscure person:
'… in the final decades of the Twentieth Century, there came to power, in their world, men of questionable sanity. These men called themselves THE SAVIOURS OF EARTH, believing that they were sent by God to make Earth into a second Eden. Yet, not a single soul was saved. Millions died, and many others had perished in the subsequent plagues that spread throughout the entire planet, after the scourging battles. The only way for great nations to survive, was to wage war. The final years saw the greatest of all wars, fought in the ancient Holy Land called, the Middle-East. It was God's will, at the beginning, that the war of the end would be fought at that sacred place. Armageddon heralded the end of mankind.
GIN — AUGUST 27, 1986'
The Seer watched the life there, with a teased curiosity, and he foresaw a postponement to his visit; so stayed upon the mountain.
What he was seeing, was of deep interest to him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
During this dark night, the city of Pomperaque was by no means quiet. Everyone in the city was in a jovial mood, celebrating this day, their great sovereign's anniversary of marriage.
All the people rejoiced. They gave their tribute and praise to their Lord Brook Scullion-Blue and his wife, Dearborne, for their fifteen years of being together.
Music blared from the hills to the buttes, and far off over the sea to the islands and down, deep into the distant valleys.
The people sang and danced around, and they ate and drank everything in sight. Everyone made friendly times, and they made gentle love throughout this commemorative evening.
In the city tonight, everyone was enjoying their life. Almost everyone, anyway.
Manguino was ill-at-ease over the love shown to Brook by his people, and there was another that could not climb out of the abyssal pit of her despair.
Mercedes could not find merriment within herself.
The beauty of this child was withered away from her, since that fortnight ago, when Manguino blessed her with his favour.
She suffered greatly from her tortured soul and impregnated body. She had spent the most part of this evening alone in the gardens, in the back of the Blue Mansion. Although she was escorted to the Lord's house by her betrothed Hartford, she had left him for the comfort of the sedating gardens.
Alone, she strolled the cobble pathways between the rows of hedge. She paced over the tiny wooden bridges that spanned the midget streams meandering about the entire estate.
The party was picking up inside the mansion and there were a few betting with each other on whether, or not, the ArchBishop would attend. However, they soon forgot their bets as they became more intoxicated.
Hartford was searching the mansion for his darling Mercedes, unaware that she was troubled. He thought that she was just playing with him, teasing him to find her.
This wasn't the case, though. She was outside, under the stars, thinking and praying to God for strength.
Mercedes was no longer walking. She had sat down on a wide marble bench outside the glass flower house.
Here, with the moonlight beaming through the leaves of the trees over head, her face was modelled by the shadows thereof, and there occasionally glistened shiny tears that slid across her face like meteorites that flashed by in a starless midnight sky. She mourned for her loss.
From a hanging terrace above her head, loomed a figure of a man, keeping himself in the phantom shadows, so that he could not be seen and still be able to watch whatever activity would be below.
He observed the fair young woman below, and wondered who she was.
Lloyd watched her ever since she first entered the garden and since the first moment, he heard her sobbing and crying, and rubbing her eyes.
He wondered how such a pretty thing could be so miserable, and he felt ultimately inadequate by not being able to lend her assistance, or at least, his shoulder for her to cry on. He didn't know who this young woman was but he felt as close to her as he's ever felt to anyone. Somehow he empathized with her even though he didn't know what her troubles were.
He felt miserable now.
Several times he wanted to call out to her but he knew that if his presence was discovered there, by some coenobite, it would mean the end of his life, and it would mean great trouble to his host for harbouring a sinner.
He thought to climb down the tree, by the terrace, and then approach her with his help, but his physical condition still prevented him from such over-exertions.
So he just stood there on the terrace, blending into the shadows, as if he was one himself, and continued to watch the lovely woman below as she sat all alone with the melancholy hugging her moonlit face.
Lloyd took a drink from his glass that he was holding. When it caught the light of the moon, it twinkled like a diamond set by an open fire. Mercedes didn't notice the moon reflecting off Lloyd's glass while she sat on the marble slab.
The night was beginning to take on a chill. Mercedes' short bursts of breath were illuminated by the moonlight. The breaths quickly passed in and out of her, in strangled gasps.
She whimpered, cutting the delicate music emanating from the house and cutting a notch into Lloyd's already pained heart.
Lloyd was over-head and yet he wasn't there, and he watched the beautiful young woman destroy her own spirit.
He wished that he knew her thoughts and yet he couldn't imagine what they could be. Little did he know the pain that her heart and soul were struggling to overcome. Little was he aware of the agonies that gnawed away at her, from inside — put there by the great god of the land, the ArchBishop.
Mercedes could hardly tolerate it any longer. She could feel the absolute Evil, drawing strength right from her spirit. The Evil grew stronger as it fed off the will residing in her emotions, and so killed them.
The Evil killed all the love within her, including the love towards her beloved and promised husband, Hartford.
She believed that she could not go to him soiled, even if so turned that way by the Almighty ArchBishop.
Her virginity, raped from her by a god, destroyed her fragile spirit and maimed her belief in the True God. Yet, with this belief of her's weakened, she still tried to pray.
A tiny voice issued from her.
Lloyd's ears perked and his heart beat stronger. He could hardly hear her but her voice was like a nightingale, and he forgot the pains from his own wounds as he concentrated to hear her over the music coming from the inside the mansion.
It was a prayer from her heart.
Lloyd felt uneasy as he listened and he could smell the stench of Evil lingering in the night air.
While Mercedes prayed, she heard the ArchBishop's course voice repeating through her mind, saying to her that he will bless her. She knew that she was stained with the kiss of Evil and she prayed to the True Living God, to forgive her.
Captured in the slashes of lunar light that filtered through the leaves of the trees above Mercedes, Lloyd thought that he saw a momentary glint of metal.
Her voice became louder, struggling in hiccoughed gasps.
"Oh help me, God! Do not turn your eyes away from me, for I must destroy the demon that was milked into me; and yes, myself, for letting it be within me!"
She lifted her clenched hands into the air and Lloyd finally saw what she was holding. A shaft of light broke the tranquil conformity of darkness and he knew that it could be nothing else but a dagger.
He stepped into the moonlight and looked don as he heard her hurl out some more desperate words.
"Oh God, do not anger at the taking of my own life. Forgive me, Lord, and accept my spirit!" she announced.
She plunged the dagger deep into her own chest and pulled it down through to her belly. Her twinging body dropped to the ground. While in weak convulsions she thrust the dagger to its limit, then lay motionless. Lloyd dropped his glass, its breaking sounding like a the chorus of mourning angels, and he looked upon the scene, in horror and breathed out a word as his eyes were enveloped in tears.
"NO!" was all that he said, and he sank down to his knees and clasped his hands.
Her light and silky gown was dyed in the warm scarlet of her own blood flowing, steadily, from her heart.
Lloyd prayed. He could do nothing to save her. By the time that he realized her intentions, it was too late. On the terrace tiles, he prostrated himself to the great, true and living God. He prayed for forgiveness, for not helping her, and then prayed to God to accept the girl's spirit and forgive her for her act.
Inside the mansion, many guests waited for their sovereign to make the first toast of the evening, while Lloyd made his own salute to the girl, whose name he did not know, that he watched die this night.
Lloyd was the first one to mourn for her, and in some strange way, he believed that God mourned for her after him.
The ballroom was full of people that were having a good time. They were all laughing and dancing, and making conversation with one another while standing near the many tables full of food and wine.
Boy was running around, letting guests into the house and serving others with refreshments.
Hartford still searched aimlessly for Mercedes, and he constantly asked
Boy if he knew where she was.
Boy finally became annoyed and told him to stop asking because he never saw her, but he did promise to tell Hartford when he did.
After that, Boy went and served two of Brook's most loyal friends with some stronger spirits.
Miel and Cassta were already quite drunk but they didn't like to admit to such a thing. Only if they ever reached the point of utter unconsciousness did they admit to being 'somewhat intoxicated.' Now, however, they were fine. They were in a happy state and so they made jokes to each other.
"I do so wish that Brook had more of these gatherings." said Miel.
"This is quite a party, Cassta!"
Cassta laughed while trying to swallow his drink, so letting some spill onto his shirt front.
"Yes. It's almost as interesting as those parties that I host!" he said in return.
Miel had a comical expression aimed at him, resembling 'shame on Cassta', but he couldn't hold it very long because Cassta crossed his eyes at him.
"You credit yourself too highly, Cassta! One would begin to think that you are the Almighty, himself!" A few people, standing nearby, were amused by what they heard. A couple of others, however, were offended to hear the Almighty's name used in vain. These high-nosed people hated their comrades' drunkenness, but when they tried to sit, in chairs that weren't there, they realized that, on such a gay evening as this, no one could restrain themselves from drinking, at least a little bit.
"He hasn't shown up yet, Miel. So, you suppose that he'll come tonight?" Cassta asked about the ArchBishop.
"Maybe he will after Brook's toast." replied Miel. "But if he doesn't, you will owe me three gold bits!"
Cassta laughed a little and touched the side of his nose with the back of his hand.
"He will be here, Miel. I heard rumours that he will make a speech suggesting Brook and wife's propagation!"
"Ah — Brook will never stand for that!" said Miel. "They are better off without children, anyway! Children are nothing more than a novelty!" he laughed and Cassta joined in.
"Novelty?!" Cassta exclaimed. "Is that why you have twelve 'novelties' of your own?"
Their laughs were the loudest in the area. They rocked back and forth almost falling over themselves.
Miel spoke in reply to Cassta's marking question.
"My WIFE has no self control over herself!" he said.
While they laughed there was a sudden spontaneity of cheering and clapping as Brook ascended a flight of stairs with his beautiful Dearborne, and followed by Boy, carrying a tray with two golden goblets.
Brook stopped and turned towards his citizens and they all bowed and curtsied to him in respect. He tipped his head to them in acceptance of their fealty to him.
He lifted his palms to them and the room murmured into a hush.
"On this night of my love, I want to propose a toast!" Brook said to them.
They all bowed to him and spoke together.
"With pleasure, Lord!" they all said, then quietly waited for him to begin.
"Tonight we are all equal. We are human beings; and with this all, I toast to each of you, the wish of a long life, liberty and happiness!" He toasted his guests in a manner that wholly reflected his nobility and the audience hailed him.
"To you, Lord Scullion-Blue!" they extolled and lifted their glasses to him before they drank. As they all drank their toast, a loud voice called to them from the entrance.
"ALL KNEEL!"
Everyone turned and saw that it was a cardinal, heralding the
ArchBishop's entrance.
The room was gripped in a breathless silence. The ArchBishop had indeed come to this formality, clothed in a splendour never before seen.
The majority of the guests did kneel to him. Only Brook, Empal, Cassta and Miel (with their families), abstained from the kneeling to the Almighty.
Manguino was not pleased when he saw this, and he became extremely angered when Brook spoke to the people, so putting him in a lowly position.
"Friends! _ Tonight rejoice for us!" said Brook pointing to Dearborne and himself. "There is no need to kneel before anyone on this happy evening! — Is this not so ArchBishop?"
Brook itched Manguino's patience and with a slight grin waited for Manguino to respond. He looked around the room at the people and heard Miel and Cassta laughing. This made him red-in-the-face but eventually he looked up to Brook then raised his hand, signalling to the people to rise.
Miel and Cassta were amused and shared some of their views of the
ArchBishop with Empal and Tucker, when they joined the two men.
The Archbishop continued to look at Brook for several moments, while
Brook and Dearborn joined their citizens in their mingling on the floor.
Music started up again and so did Hartford's search for Mercedes. He was now becoming exceedingly worried.
They had made plans to address Brook and Dearborne, after the toast, and ask them to attend their wedding as honoured guests. Now, however, Hartford couldn't ask Brook with Mercedes' delicate presence there to ensure a favourable acceptance.
He searched some more.
Boy had disappeared for a few moments. He went out into the garden for some fresh air. Hartford would soon find out where Mercedes was all evening.
Nobody paid much attention to Boy when he came back from the outside, carrying an odd expression of horror and bewilderment.
Miel and Cassta spoke in loud voices, not caring who heard them speak.
Miel was paying Cassta his betted three gold bits; wagered on the
ArchBishop's attendance.
"Our Almighty looks disturbed, Cassta!"
"Yes — He looks as though his holy sceptre has been plucked!" ribbed Cassta and so received a laugh from Miel, Empal and Tucker.
"Or else, his is in a place, other than his hand!" added Empal.
While they laughed to almost exhaustion, a couple women approached them and they paired. Now that the wives were back the two men quickly lapsed into civility. Gaena put her arms around Tucker's arm and Aria faced Miel with a light-hearted disapproval showing in her eligant face.
"Aren't we merry, tonight?" remarked Aria pushing some hair from
Mile's eyes.
"Ah, my darling wife. Cassta and I made a god-like humour!" he said then glanced over at Cassta. Both began to laugh again and especially loudly when they looked around and caught Manguino's glare as he listened.
"Are you two children drunk again?" Aria asked with a smile.
Cassta and Miel looked at one another and both pointed at one another as they answered.
"He's drunk … I'm not!"
They carried on some more then Cassta put his arms around Miel and Aria, mostly to keep himself from falling down, and looking at the others there, he slurred a question.
"Tell me, friends! — Have you ever heard the story about the wandering
Vicar?"
While he told his friends the humorous story, Manguino separated with his small envoy made up of Cardinals Allen and Levy, and the Vicar, Tohm.
There was an aura of treachery and deceit about them as they distanced themselves from the rest of the guests. Manguino turned to the Cardinal Allen, who seemed very excited. Like a child, he pranced around the ArchBishop since their arrival, waiting for the ArchBishop to give his acceptance to him concerning his honour-paying to the lovely Dearborne.
"I don't care what you do, Allen!" the ArchBishop began. "I do not care! However, if you are discovered, I will not do a thing to help you. I will not know what you are doing, and I will denounce you as a demon, if I am thought to be involved!"
There was a momentary silence between them while Allen made account of all that Manguino said.
"I understand, Your Grace, but do not worry. I shall move like a snake and strike just as silently." promised Allen.
"You behave more like an unsatisfied rabbit, my friend. Be careful, and find your own way back to Halls." Manguino gave Allen his final instructions just as he saw Dearborne make her way to the Mansion's upper levels, to where the bed chambers were.
"Thank-you, Most High!" hailed Allen, then slowly made his way to the stairs and the upper floor.
Brook stood by the banquet table having a drink and chewing on some fruit that his dear friend Empal had brought, for the festivities.
Many of the guests went to him to pay their personal respects and congratulations, on his fifteen years of marriage to Dearborne.
Soon, he stood alone for a while and looked about the entire hall and saw that the people were enjoying themselves, and he smiled in his heart seeing Boy running about serving the people with drink.
He'll be a great leader one day, thought Brook. All great leaders must serve their people and therefore keep them content and happy. He continued to watch the boy for a while them made a silent wish aimed at Boy. Take those troubles, my son, and learn how not to inflict them on your subjects.
From across the room, Miel and Cassta were looking at Brook. They saw the man's face expressing deep thought and they assumed that he had his mind on Dearborne.
"He has a dainty flag to decorate his royal mast, doesn't he?" Cassta commented.
"Yes, but this flag he runs up at night instead of the morning." Miel responded.
They both sighed as they went over to the banquet table to get some more to drink.
Music was playing loudly and the people danced, waltzing in circles and walking about in promenade.
Hartford went up to almost everybody on the floor searching for his beloved Mercedes, but everybody shook their heads in their regret for not seeing her.
Boy was walking towards Brook as did Hartford. He asked the Lord Brook the same question as he had been asking everyone, this evening.
"Excuse me, my Lord. I wonder if you have seen my Mercedes?"
"Yes." said Brook. "She's a lovely girl, and you both look very good together."
"I am sorry, Lord — I meant, that I have lost her at the party tonight. Do you know where she is?" Hartford asked again.
"No, I don't, Hartford. Have you looked in the parlour and checked the water-closet?" Brook suggested.
"She's not there!"
Boy came up to both men. He didn't say a thing but Brook knew that something was wrong.
They exchanged glances at one another and briefly Hartford became pale, then forced a smile.
"You've found her?" he asked.
Boy looked over at Brook then back at Hartford, and nodded.
"She … she is in the garden." the boy said, swallowing each word.
"She is dead, Hartford!"
Hartford lost all colour in his face and his pupils dilated to pin-prick size, then he ran outside to the garden.
"Oh God, NO!" Hartford had finally found his lovely betrothed, dead. He embraced her limp body gently into his arms and took the dagger out of her body, hearing it scrape against her exposed ribs. He set the dagger to the side and kissed her cheek and he wept. Then, as if her own body cried for Hartford's pains, a tear crept forth from her eye, mixing with his own tears and flowing towards the arm-length gash in her chest.
Hartford moaned and rocked back and forth; for with her death came the death of his world.
Brook was disturbed and directed Boy to prepare a chamber upstairs for
Hartford and Mercedes.
Boy went forth and paid no attention to Lloyd standing up on the balcony, looking at the crowd. In his eyes were tears and he too was pale from his witness. In his mind swirled whirlwind thoughts of the demonic masturbation that came out of Halls and touched every living thing with its Evil impurity.
He could not keep all that he saw, from his mind.
All laughed and were enjoying themselves, while outside was an innocense was forced into the obscurity of loss. What had happened to his own love, in Besten, those few short years ago, had been replayed before him, this night. It was a terrible loss brought on by someone's whims of power and glory.
He heard Boy's voice telling Dearborne about the problem that happened and that Brook ordered a chamber be prepared. Dearborne was heard making her excuses to a couple women that she was talking to in her own bed chamber and went into another room with Boy.
When out in the hall, Lloyd bowed his head solemnly to the lady and she returned with a nod. From his expression, the Lady Dearborne was sure that he knew something about the problem that Boy mentioned.
She finally found out what the problem was when she was preparing the one room with Boy. She was saddened by what Boy told her he had found in the garden and she imagined how Hartford felt. Yet, Dearborne herself could not cry for Mercedes. In her lifetime she had seen too many deaths, most of which were associated with Halls, in one way or another. This must be another death caused by someone at Halls, she believed.
Downstairs, Hartford carried Mercedes into the ballroom and Brook immediately threw his cape around her. He didn't want anyone to know about her death this evening and so tried to hide the wounds.
Hartford's eyes were glazed-over and Brook knew that Hartford wasn't aware of his surroundings any more, so Brook guided him up the stairs and to the room.
Brook gave his leave to his guests and bade them to continue with their merriment, and most of them did.
Miel and Cassta felt uneasy. Although they were in a twilight drunkenness, they knew that something was wrong.
Manguino made his way over to the stairs, smiled to himself and shook his head in a slight displeasure. He knelt down and with his finger dabbed a little red circle of blood that he was certain was the girl's.
"Oh, you naive girl." he said to himself.
Cassta noticed Manguino's actions and pointed them out to Miel. It didn't take much effort to figure out that the great ArchBishop was associated with the trouble that they saw.
They decided that they would check on their Lord a little later, to see if they could help with anything.
The discontented guests soon began to feel uneasy and many of them left the mansion, until there were just a few Prominants left there, finishing off the rest of the food and drink from the tables as if they were beggars at a God-sent feast.
The music began to die down and soon the great ArchBishop also left with Cardinal Levy and the Vicar Tohm, knowing that he didn't have to add his own planned attack on Brook.
Upstairs, Hartford had gently set Mercedes down on the bed and stared at her. Brook, Dearborne and Boy looked on as Hartford continued to weep, in convulsive sobs.
"She is dead! She has taken her own life, but why?" Hartford was asking while Lloyd stood outside the chamber door listening.
Unseen, Lloyd crept into the room and sat in the window behind the curtains.
Hartford continued his lament for Mercedes.
"Why?" he asked. "Did I displease her? Did she not love me any more?
— Oh, God! I cannot understand!?"
Brook put his hand on Hartford's shoulder hoping to console him to some degree.
"Listen to me, Hartford! Her death is not your fault." said Brook. "I am told that her love for you was greater than anything in the whole world. Something else made her … Hartford believed Brook, and so did Lloyd as he watched the moon rise from behind Canon's Butte, silhouetting the Halls Cathedral as if it an ancient mausoleum.
Cassta and Miel entered the chamber silently. The misfortune of the past few minutes had a sobering effect on them and they were silent, no longer laughing and no longer making fun of trifles for their amusements.
Hartford's mumbling scared everyone in the room and the two men didn't know how to react. They just stood there quietly, their mouths agape and their expressions showing a dumbfoundedness.
"My only love. She's gone and I cannot breathe!" Hartford gurgled with irrationality. Mercedes' death finally began to work on his head. "My wife to be, will not be, she isn't — is she? There is nothing. I am nothing. Is all nothing?"
Dearborne looked at Brook with frightful worry and she took his arm.
"He's delirious!" she said. Brook saw Miel and Cassta enter the room earlier and now motioned to them to approach. Without hesitation, they drew near.
"My friends, take Hartford down to the parlour and let him rest!"
Brook requested and his two most loyal subjects obeyed him.
They took Hartford, one under each arm, and carried him down to the parlour, Boy leading the way.
It was obvious that Hartford wasn't aware of what was happening to him. His face was pallid and his eyes were glazed-over. He was no longer existing on a mutual level with anyone in this world. Within his grief-afflicted mind and mutilated soul, he searched for that which he had lost.
Brook and Dearborne were alone for a moment, so to speak, since they were not aware of Lloyd's presence, while he quietly sat in the window.
"It is so quiet, Brook. The guests have gone!"
"Yes." confirmed Brook. "The flavour of this celebration had become very bitter!"
How true, thought Lloyd as he looked at Halls in the distance, knowing from experience that the cause of this night's misfortune, originated there.
"I'm sorry for tonight, my love!" said Brook.
Dearborne's moistt eyes calmed his heaving spirit. She did not blame him for this evening's tragedy and she knew that his apology was really intended as pity for the loss of such a precious and innocent soul as Mercedes was.
With this, Brook turned and went out of the room.
Lloyd's heart ached with the burden of his witness. He saw Mercedes, inside his mind, thrusting the dagger into her heart, over and over again, and the visions of this mingled with his memory of witnessing his own betrothed Charnan, at her death. This evening devastated him. Mercedes reminded him so much of his beloved Charnan. She had the same golden hair and smooth, fair skin. Her beauty was only surpassed by her innocense.
Lloyd's mind travelled while comparing the two women and his two most painful experiences.
Through a small tare in the curtain, Lloyd saw Dearborne lift her head from a prayer that she had made for the body and spirit of the departed Mercedes.
She was starting to turn and leave when she sat heavily into a chair by the bed and started to cry.
Lloyd was ready to reveal himself to her, to talk and console her, but he couldn't show to her his own weakness. He cried, too.
Brook was down in the parlour with Miel, Cassta and Hartford. The three men stood apart from Hartford. He was put on the couch, reclined and withdrawn, and he appeared to be as inanimate as the furniture.
Hartford, the young man with so many years ahead of him, was no longer alive, in the normal sense of the word. He did breath and occasionally twitched, and tears periodically migrated in a clean path down his face. Yet, this unfortunate young man lacked the spirit of life found residing in every human.
The men held back their tears, looking-on at Hartford with pity and remorse.
"At this time we cannot lose our wits," Brook told Miel and Cassta. "for there are only two people in all of Phoride that could be responsible for this." he glared at the men with cold, angry eyes. "They shall pay for it!"
The other two men tried to swallow the lumps that blocked their throats and when Cassta spoke, his voice burbled.
"I must prevent my beloved …" he cleared his throat and continued.
"I must keep her from taking her own life. She is dainty and beautiful. We are pledged to marry."
"We must protect our women from our own clergy — that's shameful!"
Miel added.
"I will not let my Ledo die like Mercedes, and God knows how many others. I will honourably join her tomorrow!"
"You are correct, Cassta. Something must be done to suppress
Manguino's evil ways." said Brook.
Miel added his own thoughts and sentiments about the ArchBishop's immoral methodology.
"He has gone too far, this time. Unlike the other suicides, this one wasn't isolated. This time, a girl's death affected several scores of people."
Cassta clutched Brook's upper arm.
"Lord, would you oversee my wedding tomorrow?" Cassta asked him and he nodded, accepting.
Brook turned on to his concern for Hartford. He moved to Hartford and covered him with a long cloak that was over one of the chairs.
"I think that we should leave him to rest now!" Brook suggested and
Miel questioned in worry.
"Should someone stay with him, Brook?"
Cassta volunteered to watch Hartford, wanting to help in whatever means he could but Brook was aware that there was nothing that any one of them could do for him. He appreciated his two friends' concern for the remnant that Hartford had become, but he didn't want them to stay needlessly, and having the situation under control, he excused them.
"Miel, your wife probably waits for you. You should go."
"Yes, my Lord!" nodded Miel. "You will call me if I am needed?" Miel asked and Brook affirmed.
"You too should leave, my friend." Brook said to Cassta. "I realize that it is late, but I suggest that you go speak to Ledo. Give to her father my responsibility."
"I will leave you, then. Thank-you, Brook!"
Both men left as Boy walked into the parlour.
"Lord?" he hailed Brook. "The guests and musicians are gone now!"
"Alright, Boy. I will be in my den, for a time. Keep watch on Hartford and call me if anything changes!." Boy sat in a chair opposite Hartford and he didn't take his eyes from him.
Dearborne was still in the same bed chamber with Mercedes' body.
Lloyd still hadn't calmed enough to talk to her. He continued to sit in the window and listened to her lovely voice singing a sad little tune.
Lloyd wasn't the only one listening to her sing. Outside the door lurked the Cardinal Allen.
He had seen Brook repair to his den and Allen knew that he would not re-emerge for some time. He thought that he had enough time available to himself to receive his total fulfilment from Dearborne.
He listened to her sing as he moved closer to the door and finally he entered the room in silence.
"The days pass by… Our lives are brief… To death we all
do cry,
We live in grief… Through all the days — "
Dearborne sang but her words were shattered by the splintered voice of the Cardinal Allen, finishing-off the verse.
"For we all know… We'll one day die!"
Startled, Dearborne swung around and stood facing him.
Lloyd was startled also and he peered through the tare in the curtain again. There stood the man who almost had him executed a fortnight passed; the same man that had made the fair Dearborne to feel dirty.
"Why haven't you left yet?" she demanded of him, and he just smiled.
"It's a pity, is not — I mean, the girl's death." he began. "You know, fair Dearborne, the ArchBishop has very good eyes for beauty but he does not understand the mind of women. He pushed too much. He should influence, not frighten." he kept smiling as he moved a step closer to her. "He has only one child to my thirteen, and that child is a cripple, in its mind."
Dearborne had finally taken hold of herself and spoke out at Allen. "Get out, you wretched weasel!" she shouted but this inspired Allen to move closer yet.
"You will be wholly happy to mother my fourteenth."
"I should say not."
"Oh, my dear, you will submit!" Allen's voice sounded of excited promise. "Since you have neglected to bare children to your line with Brook, I (or any other of the Almighty), has the right to have you bare a child from him. This right I claim and demand from you, and by the law, even you cannot refuse." he took another stride to Dearborne and behind her she took hold of an empty vase.
"I am above the law, now leave or I shall call my husband!" she was terrified.
"Really? When Brook goes into his room, he can hear no one. So he finds out about this 3/4denial will be made, and without proof, you will not be believed." He made a final advance on her and took her into his arms.
She struggled them slammed him in the face with the vase. Yet, nothing happened. What's more, it seemed to have inspired him all the more.
He reached out for the part in her blouse, tore it then began to knead her exposed breasts.
Lloyd flew from the window when he saw that the vase did Allen no harm, and now forcibly threw him off from Dearborne. He stood in front of her and watched Allen pick himself up off the floor, several yards away.
The expression on Allen's face was dismay and fear. For a moment he thought that Brook had returned, but now he saw who it was.
"It's you. How can this be?" demanded Allen.
Lloyd gave him a heated glare. "My maker didn't want me, at that moment. And if you do not leave, he may want you, now!"
"Move away." commanded Allen. "This is not your affair!"
"And it shall not be yours!"
At this, the Cardinal Allen rushed Lloyd. Lloyd with all his force summoned, fisted Allen in the forehead. The crazed Allen still attacked as if he didn't feel any ill effects from being solidly squared in the head. On his second rush, he caught Lloyd in the ribs with his head.
Lloyd lurched forward, in pain, as he got Allen in the throat when he wrapped his arms about his neck. He spun around and heaved towards the floor, unto his knees. Allen didn't move any more, his neck snapping into a splintered mush.
Lloyd slowly rose, holding his injured side, and he walked away from the body without hardly a care for what he had done. "Are you injured, my Lady?" he asked, while he took off his vest and gave it to her to cover herself.
"Yes! You helped me just in time, thank-you!"
"I should have been there sooner. I was sitting in the window since the girl's body was brought in here. I'm sorry but I just couldn't move sooner to help you!
Dearborne looked away from him. She focused upon Allen's lifeless body with a feeling of absolute relief.
Lloyd spoke some more, trying to give explanation for his lateness.
"I had seen her take her own life, my Lady!" he pointed to Mercedes' body and tried to keep his tears from her. She listened and slowly returned to looking at Lloyd.
"She was sitting on the bench, beneath my terrace. The moon was out and when I finally realised what she had in her hands, she had killed herself. I couldn't save her."
Dearborne put her head against his arm revealing to him that she understood how he felt, but she didn't really until he told her that story about his own love, Charnan, who died the same way.
In the morning, Brook was told about what had happened and he some Totemen from the Phoridene Council, take the Cardinal Allen's body back to Halls. With the body, Brook included a letter to Manguino demanding that he keeps the death issue in its place and not to make any trouble by it. He reminded Manguino of the promise that he made to him concerning Allen.
Brook had admitted himself to be Allen's executioner.
In the Blue Mansion, Lloyd and Boy were told to prepare for their journey to the north.
Brook felt that there was no time to lose. He had a feeling of impending doom, and not only that, he wanted to be safe.
On Mount Benitar, the wise man also knew that something would happen. He saw all the signs. Soon, he thought — soon it would be time for him to go down to Pomperaque, again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The events that had occurred over the passed few days affected almost everyone in Pomperaque and other parts of Phoride.
In Gothal, the Holy City, the nuns at the Abbey of Our Holy Saint
Mariot, performed a funeral service for Mercedes and most everyone from
Pomperaque, and Gothal itself, turned out to pay their respects.
The day before the funeral, Cassta and Ledo were married in Gothal by the Abbey Mother and Brook presided over it. The ceremony was performed in secret, in the name of the True Living God, and just a small number of friends attended. Miel was there with Aria. Empal was there with his family, and the greatest of Pomperaque's Prominants, Brook and Dearborne, were there.
Everyone was happy at the wedding and somber at the funeral, as it was normal to be.
There was anger in the eyes of some of the coenobites when they found
out that Ledo had married Cassta. They could now do nothing to her.
She was indeed above their rights of having her bare a Holy Child.
Cassta saved his darling Ledo, just in time.
To most, however, the saving of a life or a soul meant little when compared to the loss of one such innocence as Mercedes. All that there was to benefit from salvation was the relief that it brought to the saved, and those close to them. Relief, by itself, had no real value.
Good and Evil each made their own laments.
While mourners and wailers cried for the death of an innocent young woman, so did the monks at Halls, cry and mourn for the brutal death of their best and most respected Cardinal Allen.
As it was; a customary show of respect to a dearly-departed coenobite, a pure woman was chosen to be entombed with the body. This chosen woman willingly accepted requests made to her to share her eternity with the dead cleric, and carried with her the love and honour of each individual member at Halls. The love and respect was given to her, through physical sex, by each monk, before she was taken to the tomb with the deceased brother. While the corpse lay in state, there was a room set aside, adjacent the big hall in the chapel. The chosen women lay unclad in soft beds and each was fornicated with by each individual at Halls; from the lowest novice to the ArchBishop himself.
Prior to the monks looking upon the body of their dead brother, they entered the room and gave their all to the woman. During the copulation, the men repeatedly chanted: "Take this to our friend; a sign that we love him!"
At the end of the day, when all the men had gone through with their ritual respect, they took the limp, unconscious woman and set her on top of Allen's dead body. Both were then carried to the grotto, in the cliffs at the ocean's edge, and were sealed inside, forever. From the moment of the bodies' entombment, all those that were in Halls Cathedral abstained from any and all normal human functioning for three days. During this three day period — a further show of respect for their dead — no one ate or had sexual intercourse and during this time they kept themselves from sleep, and prayed for the Cardinal's soul.