Aris Reigns (22 page)

Sarah continued on her way, shaken and lost at the thought of Kitsuko's prophecy.

CHAPTER 30

L
ate morning found Sarah, Gaby and Jane seated on Sarah's bed in her rooms in the Catacombs. They had just chosen her clothes for the changing ceremony, arranging them on a tall chair in the corner so they could admire them. The lingerie and dress were in soft shades of blue silk fashioned in the style the underground Immortals wore; a long dress fitted at the waist, the skirt flowing in soft ripples to barely skim her ankles. The sleeves were long and fitted, the bodice cut deep, squared off so the Queen would be able to anoint her chest without difficulty. Soft blue silk shoes rested on the carpet beneath the chair

Sarah was propped against pillows, staring into space. Kitsuko's prediction clouded her mind. She longed to be changed, to be a part of the Catacombs, to have the ordeal behind her. Still, she had some unanswered questions about the actual act of changing and she desperately wanted to ask, but held back worried she might make her friends uncomfortable.

Gabriela and Jane sat Indian style across from one another on the foot of her bed. The white wolf curled on the floor near his mistress. Their conversation was stilted, uneasy. The two Immortals were concerned they might say something about her coming ordeal that would frighten Sarah more than they knew she already was. They had
all been laughing and joking while they dressed her and arranged her hair, a joyful dress rehearsal. But now that their tasks were complete, the silence between them was heavy.

“Look, I have a great idea. I honestly don't want to sit around here like this. Aris is with the commanders until evening. What do you say we go above ground today. Just for a little while.” She swallowed hard. “It may very well be my last look at London as a mortal.”

“You two go ahead.” Protectively Jane folded her arms across her chest. “I have not been above ground since I came to the Catacombs and I have no desire to do it today.”

Gabriela rose, taking her young friend's hands to pull her from the bed. “Come with us. We will make sure you are alright, but if you want to come back below, we will return immediately.” Her voice issued a soft challenge. “Come with us. It is for Sarah. It is a day she will remember forever and Aris will worry less if there are two of us with her. Be with us.”

Sarah stood next to them. “Please Jane. Just for a little while. If you're uncomfortable in any way, we'll come right back. Besides, aren't you the least bit curious about life above ground?”

“I hear about it from others. I have little memory of life out of the Catacombs and less experience with humans. This is my home. I think I will stay here today.” She smiled at Sarah.

“I understand, but please, just for a little while, come with me to say goodbye to the only way of life I've ever known.”

Jane decided that Sarah's request was more important to her than her own shyness. “Oh, alright. When shall we go?”

Gabriela answered. “I have a training session this morning with my troop. Can the excursion wait until afternoon.”

“That will be fine with me. Jane?”

“One time is as good as the next. At your pleasure.”

“I must leave you two. Richard and Aris had the troops early this morning. I give the next drill. I will return after we finish our
practice.”

Sarah rose to hug her friend farewell then turned to Jane. “We have a few hours until she comes back. Would you like to have a session while we wait?”

Jane's eyes lit up. “Yes. That would be wonderful.” She settled in, reclining, her head resting on the pillows. Sarah found a comfortable spot next to her on the bed. The wolf changed position so he could see his mistress even while she was lying down.

Sarah recited the familiar induction and within moments Jane was in a deep hypnotic trance.

JANE HOWARD, transcript, Session 3

“Tell me Jane, where are you now?”

“I am in the Queen's chambers.”

“What year is it?”

“
It is 1587.”

“What do you see as you look around you?”

“The Queen is furious. She rails at her oldest friend and closest confidant, her secretary, William Cecil called Lord Burghley, yet he stands unflinching before her.”

“Jane,” Sarah questioned softly when her subject hadn't spoken for a few moments, “can you tell me why the Queen is so angry?”

It has just been made known to her that her cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots, has been executed. You see, while Her Majesty did jail the Scots Queen, she had no intention of executing her. Mary was sent to the Tower because, finally, the Queen's Council found proof that she intended to murder Elizabeth and take over the throne of England. They presented letters from Mary commanding some of her closest supporters to proceed with the assassination of the English Queen. Cecil pressed Elizabeth to sign the death certificate to rid the English throne of a dangerous adversary.

It was my charge to wait on Her Majesty directly after she signed the document. She signed, yes, yet she swore to me she had no intention of destroying her
cousin
. It was not simply filial love that stayed her hand. She believed that once a sovereign, any sovereign, had been executed the door was flung open and no monarch would ever be safe from being put to death from those who opposed them. A woman of great integrity, her conscience and concern for the future battled her logic to kill the woman who would usurp her throne.

Her Council knew her feelings and, without her knowing, commanded the execution of Mary of Scots. It was told to the Queen that Mary died poorly. It took three strokes of the axe to sever her neck and when the headsman held up the severed head of her decapitated adversary, her tangled red wig separated from her balding scalp, exposing a few lonely gray tresses. The grimacing face bounced across the scaffold floor, landing at the feet of her beloved dog. The animal raised its muzzle to the sky howling mournfully.

On the morning Cecil brought the news to Her Majesty, she went mad, pulling great handfuls of hair from her head. In her great fury she smashed precious piece after piece of glassware against the stones of the fireplace as she screamed at Cecil that he had committed treason. She commanded her guard to take him to the Tower then fell in a heap on the foot of her bed, her body quaking, tears pouring from her eyes.

“What have those fools done? They know not what corridors of death they have opened for any who oppose their rulers.” She pounded the great mattress with her small fists as she shrieked the words. “What have they done?”

I sought to sooth her. “Your Grace, listen. Hear the cheers of your loving people. England is safe from any invasion from the north, from any furtherance of the Inquisition and Your Most Gracious Majesty is safe on the throne.” I sat beside her on the bed, brushing her hair away from her tear-stained face. “It was done without your final command. You are free from guilt.” Wiping her eyes, she sat upright. “She commanded her men to murder you in your own palace. She was a Catholic and bound to cause England to follow the Pope. How can you beat your breast at her end?”

As if defeated, the Queen's head drooped onto her chest as she spoke softly. “Oh Jane, do you not see? The boundary has been broken. An anointed monarch has been executed. The Crown will forever more be at the mercy of those who surround it.” She fell back onto the bed, another torrent of tears streaming from her eyes, sobs tearing from her throat.

For three days she passed no food. She neither slept nor spoke. Leaning against the huge pillows stacked at the head of her bed, she stared straight before her. I wondered at what visions her staring eyes conjured. Was it the horrific death of her blood relative? Three gruesome strikes of the axe. Did she visualize the crimson sleeves and petticoat her enemy wore to her death to proclaim her martyrdom for Christ? Whatever Her Majesty saw in her minds-eye that morning took her vitality, her very soul from her.

On the third day, Cecil stood outside her chamber surrounded by her palace guard. He pounded hard on her door, calling to her, telling her the Council waited upon her decisions on many urgent matters. The government was at a standstill. They could not move forward without her pronouncements. He requested she put her mourning aside to return to her duties as sovereign while there was still a kingdom to rule.

I was astonished at the transformation in her at the mention of her duty to her people. Her eyes became clear. She rose from the bed standing tall, looking directly at me. “Jane, what is keeping you? Call Perry and the other ladies to attend me and dress me. England cries out for its Monarch.”

I jumped to my feet, my Queen restored, standing before me in all her royal glory.

Her ladies attended to her toilette, preparing her to meet with her heads of state. Once painted, wigged and dressed, she left her chambers recovered, ready yet again to Queen it over England.

We were all relieved. The siege of sorrow had ended. I tidied her privy chamber with the help of her other maidens. Working quickly, we completed our task with much time to spare. Happily each of us went our own way, relishing in the few hours we had to ourselves while Her Majesty attended to affairs of state.

A beautiful crisp sunny February day tempted me to walk outside on the castle grounds. Dressed in heavy velvet fur-lined robes and leather fur-lined boots, I crossed the threshold into a frozen wonderland. The black bark of all the barren trees surrounding the palace was covered in sparkling crystal ice. Rainbows reflected on the snow-covered ground as the sun bounced off the glassy surfaces. My breath was visible in little puffs of steam as I hurried down the path to keep warm.

Suddenly, peeking from the trees on the edge of the forest surrounding the palace, the face and massive rack of antlers of a snow white stag caught my attention. He was enormous, as tall as a small horse, powerful yet sleek and graceful.

Slowly he stepped from the forest toward me. My breath stopped in my chest lest I frighten him away. As he took a few steps closer, I raised my palm to greet him.

“Ah Jane.” A loud masculine voice boomed behind me. “At last I find you.”

I turned only to discover the owner of the voice was none other than Lord Essex. He lurched toward me and I knew he was drowning in drink.

“Here, dear Jane. Let me kiss you.” He lunged for me. Just as his hands grasped my arms, the great stag rushed toward us, antlers displayed for battle. Essex put me behind him, stepping between me and the huge animal thundering toward us. Without waiting for the outcome, I turned, running as fast as I could toward the palace. Racing up the steps to safety, I glanced behind me.

The buck had stopped short as soon as I was free of Essex. It was as if his charge was to protect me. He stood, his head tilted to one side, watching me. Essex watched me as well, but it was a wicked determination I saw in his eyes. With great relief I stepped inside the palace doors, closing them tightly behind me.

As Jane told the story of Essex, her body stiffened, her lovely face twisted into an unsettled scowl. Seeing her discomfort, Sarah released her from the trance and quickly brought her subject back to present day, to the safety and comfort of the Catacombs.

“Sarah, things are coming back to me in a much more clear way. I had forgotten the white buck. He was so beautiful.” Jane gazed into the fireplace as she remembered the frosty morning so very far away in her past. “Essex always frightened me. The other maids were taken with him, yet I always seemed to see through the false face he wore for the court.” She turned to face her friend. “I remember that fright while I am in hypnosis.”