THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 3, CHARLES E.J. MOULTON [best desktop ebook reader TXT] 📗

his own old hands.
The last thing that he felt was a smile. He met the angels a happy man. His father was there, chirping.
Soon enough, another star crowned the celestial night.
Its name was Alexander Winsletenna.

“At every waking moment
I remember your voice,
When the shadows seemed repulsive
You laughed and sang by choice,
I found myself still happy
When times were all too cold,
And it was all because you were there
For me to cry on and hold,
I am only this strong person
Because of you wonderful man,
I thank the spirits above us
That you were here to rule the land,
I thank the creator above us
That you were here to hold my hand.
So thank you for your saving grace,
And that warm and cosy fireplace
That lit up your angelic face,
That brought me to a familiar place.”

- Queen Belinda I Winsletenna, Ruler of Medatlantia


“Dear Diary!
We had a very dignified burial for Father last week on the Sunday. It was the most moving thing I ever saw. Robert was there and it was clear that out daughter Rebecca was taken by it all, she told us afterwards that she saw him looking at himself laying in the coffin with a smile on his face. I suppose all of the Winsletenna children have a sixth sense.
Belinda was stoic and heartfelt as ever.
I feel she has gained so much dignity and pride through becoming a queen.
She was always destined to be one.
Yes, I did see Father just as Rebecca did.
Robert didn’t see him, at least he didn’t actually say anything about it.
Maria has grown so quiet the last few years. Maybe it is because Fabian really rarely is home, as he mostly is at sea. I try my best to cheer her up.
The thing that moved me most was that the citizens of our capital seemed so eager to show their concern and their love for our father. They loved them. I don’t how many came. It must’ve been at least ten thousand.
We said goodbye to him today.
He is an angel now.
He deserves that. After all, if he hadn’t saved us we would’ve been eaten alive in the seventh circle of hell, souls and all. Thank you, Father.
Oh, before I go to bed now, Diary (Robert is calling me and Rebecca needs a bedtime story) … what was I going to say? My feather pen is losing ink, wait …
There we go.
What was I going to say?
Oh, yes. Now I now.
Sean and Alfred have mutually had some spiritual sessions and I am fascinated by these two.
Their dreams are to unify all known empires in peace.
They are sure there is a land with peaceful wild people somewhere beyond the ocean.
Alfred has spoken of sending someone over there and founding a country with them.
I think he means actually finding something very much different from his own culture and incorporating it with Christianity. He calls fencing and tournaments ‘arts that should be seen as skills and not necessary for killing’. He aims to inspire life with his fencing, not death.
In any case, Lindy can be proud.
I have to go, Diary.
Father, where ever you are now, I love you.
Thank you for making me.
Good night.

- Patricia Winsletenna, East Wing, Iuventus Sacrum, Clurafar, Prosperania”


December 25th 1452

“I miss him, Patty!”
Patrick looked up at his sister. She looked so frail.
How old was she now? 51? Yes, that was it. 51. Too old for looking for a Winsletenna at 51.
She had never had a Christmas without father.
Neither had he. Except ...
There was no denying that all that glumness at the dinner table
had come from no wanting to eat without father.
“I do, too!” Patrick said very quietly. He looked at the clock at the fireplace and heard it tick. It had been the first of its kind back then. “It is very strange not to have him running about telling Ruby to mind her own business!”
Belinda nodded.
“Hmm …” she agreed. “Yes” she uttered, recognizingly. “He did that a lot, didn’t he?”
Patrick looked down. “He did.” Her brother folded his hands and shook his head. “I think he had a hard time actually accepting that Geena was gone.”
”I don’t know why, the food tastes the same and she is just as nice.”
Pat smiled. “No, I think it was Geena’s familiarity that he liked. Not only her food.”
Belinda rasied her eyebrows and smiled. “There was no stiffness or coldness there. She called him by his first name more than anyone, didn’t she?”
Patrick cocked his head and chuckled softly. His head tilted as he sighed.
“She was something. Father missed her, I think.”
”I can never forgive myself, Patty, that I wasn’t there when he died.”
Her brother put a hand on her warm lap. “Belinda …”
She took her hand. “Yes?”
”He knew” he said with a smile. She looked at his deep brown eyes and nodded, closing her eyes.
The cushion of her throne was so soft, just as soft as her heart was full of remorse.
“I know he did, Darling, but …” She looked out at the icy cold out there, only lit up by the torches from in here. She looked back at her brother. “I just wanted so to tell him just that one last time how very, very, very much I loved him.”
He was almost whispering now. ”There was no one who knew how much you loved your father than he. I will bet you anything that the last thing he said was ‘I love you, Belinda’.”
Belinda smiled. “That is a sweet thing to say, Patty …”
A matter-of-fact smile came upon his lips.
“I am more spiritual than people think.”
She patted his hand and stood up, labouring to keep her back straight. “I know, brother. No one doubts that.” Patrick leaned back in his chair, slightly surprised, and saw his sister walking to the window and looking out. “He is out there, Patrick. He is watching over us.” Patrick nodded looking at the swaying trees and the landscape that was so familiar and so trusted. ”I know that you are spiritual, Patrick.”
She laughed bitterly. “How I know that. You are all my family, so you have to be spiritual. We all are.”
Patrick shook his head. “I know you know that I am and he is watching and taking care of us.”
She turned to him and smiled. “Brother?”
He chuckled ever so softly. “Sister.”
She walked to him and took his hands, still standing.
She was about to say something, but hesitated. She began again and then just smiled.
“What?”
”Nothing.”
”Yes, there was something.”
She caressed his cheek. She made a small noise with her tongue, smacking. It was a bitter, lonely sound. “Just … I wish that father hadn’t blamed you for all of what happened before our … excursion to hell.”
Patrick shook his head. “Oh, Belinda. He never did. He …” Pat was searching for words. “Father was never ever a man that wanted to be happy with only half a truth. When he conquered Lucinda, then he first could live happy. Morgana remained childless out of choice, but we two black sheep have reached maturity and he knew that we were not responsible …” He looked into Belinda’s bright eyes and saw so much beauty there. “Not for any of what happened.”
She agreed and sat down again.
“Are you happy?”
”I miss my father …” she said and Patrick realized that she was crying.
“What are we, we souls on this earth?” Belinda said and looked into the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Patrick looked where she was looking and thought about what she had said.
What were they really? The question was obvious and as a brother he knew that the question was very profound and deep. It came from a place that wondered where her father was now. Belinda knew that Pat was aware of how near the two siblings had become in the last ten years after hardly speaking at all for a lifetime.
What are we?
The answer was there sitting on the tongue. Waiting in the heart? Yes, waiting.
“What are we?” Belinda said again, lost in her own words. She was a queen in everything but her own security. Inside there she was still the little girl that had told her father to wait outside while she conferred with Marie-Louise about her eventual ascension to the throne.
Patrick Winsletenna answered in such a remarkably clear voice that it surprised Belinda a bit.
“We are angels on leave” he said.
Belinda looked into the fire and added: “Imperfect angels on a challenging adventure.”
She looked up at her brother again and shook her head.
“But where is home then, if we are on an expedition?”
Patrick didn’t answer that question. He just sat there for nearly an hour holding the queens hand and hoping that she wouldn’t fall asleep in his arms.
There was a very obvious connection between what these two were feeling and the bond that was there to their father’s soul. Alexander was up there, he was waiting for them to take their next step, understand their worth, find their way, know their path, join nthe festivities whose echoes emerged from the shadows into their part of existence.
“What are we?”
”Imperfect angels on leave.”
“Home is where the heart is then” the brother said and Belinda nodded.
“Indeed” she answered and looked thoughtfully into the flames. “Our home is our heart.”
There was a very strong look of self confidence in her eyes and she looked at her brother, grabbed his hand, lifted it and smiled. “I love you, brother.”
Patrick smiled. “I love you, too” he almost whispered and realized he said these words way too seldom.
And the shadows went away, dancing into oblivion with the nightly lurking mysteries, finding their own shadow’s way in a salvation back where the sun meets the horizon.
Somewhere in Neapelonia a young man named Christopher Columbus was about to be born.
His fate would take him to the Arapaho, Apache, Cherokee and the Sioux. His fate in the alternate reality was to be a wiser fate, an informed fate that would grant the inhabitants of the new world a great say as to the peace and prosperity of their future land.
In hundreds of years an empire of peace would emerge with an Arapaho leader, a Sioux Medicine Chief and an Apache Work Commander. The Sioux Ritual Master would be the one to hold it all together and with their individual rites and rights they would make it clear that Alfred and his forefather were the ones who were to thank for this nation of love.
There was a statue being erected of Alexander that Christmas of 1452.
Queen Belinda held a speech next to the statue that New Year’s Eve and said that her father was responsible for saving their world.
Lucifer had his glee in preparing to send Columbus to other worlds in the alternate reality and making him believe that he’d found India. Christopher was not as lucky there as he was in Belinda’s home.
Alfred knew how his fate would take him toward victory and he was already working on his plan for absolute peace beyond the great unknown ocean.
Belinda knew how her reign