'I don't like it,' Julius told Arabella and Percival. 'And it's not safe to let her madness rage. So prepare yourselves. I'll give you your commission immediately, and she'll go to England with you. We can't allow her growing lunacies to make the danish royal family seem lunatic.'
'We'll get ready,' said Percival. 'It's a holy and religious duty to safeguard the many subjects who depend on your majesty.'
'It's one thing to keep your own mind from annoyance with all the strength and armour you have,' said Arabella, 'but quite another, and more important, to preserve the one on whom the wellbeing of the many depend. When a king dies he doesn't die alone, but like a void, he pulls whatever's near him in. He is a great wheel on top of the summit of the highest mountain. And ten thousand lesser things are attached to its huge spokes. When it falls, every small attachment, every tiny matter, is ruined too. A king never sighs without a general groan.'
'Prepare for a speedy departure,' said Julius, 'because we want to control this danger that's getting out of hand.'
'We'll hurry,' said Percival. Arabella and Percival bowed and left to prepare for their journey.
Julius went to his private chapel and stopped in the doorway as Polonius came towards him, gesturing for him to wait.
'My lord,' said Polonius, 'she's going to his mother's room. I'll hide behind the curtain so that I can listen to the conversation. I guarantee she won't spare her. And as you said, and wisely, too, it's important that someone other than a mother should hear this vital evidence, since nature makes a bond between mother and daughter. Farewell then, my liege. I'll see you before you go to bed and tell you what I've found out.'
'Thank you, my dear lord,' said Julius. He entered the chapel and stood, gazing at the centuries-old place of worship, where his ancestors had, prayed and married, where their coffins had lain in state. This was the time to pray if there ever was one. His offence was rank, it smelt to heaven. It had the most primal ancient curse on it. A brother's murder! He tried to kneel but couldn't. He couldn't pray, even though his need to was as powerful as it could be. His guilt outweighed his strong desire. He didn't know where to begin as there were two main considerations: his crime against a human being and his sin against God. And so he could only stand there doing nothing. What if this cursed hand of his were thicker than itself with brother's blood: wasn't there enough rain in the sweet heavens to wash it white as snow? What was mercy for if not to help him fight the effects of his crime? And what was prayer for if not to prevent his fall before it happened? Or if it did happen, to pardon him when it did? Then he would be able to look up because his sin would be behind him. He prepared to kneel but still, what kind of prayer would help him? 'Forgive me my foul murder?' That was no good because he still possessed those things that he had done the murder for: his crown, his ambition, and his queen. Could one be pardoned for a sin and still keep the benefits of it? . Julius tried to pray but he couldnt forgive himself for his sins and just knelt even further at the ground.
As Nero passed the chapel on her way to her mother's room he saw the light in the chapel. she paused and stood silently at the door. she saw the still form of hers uncle kneeling before the altar. she drew her sword and tiptoed into the chapel and stood at the back. she could do it, right now, easily, while he was praying. And she would. Right now. He took a step forward then stopped. She realized that if she killed him in prayer, that he would go to heaven. She would not want the villian who killed her father to go there of all places.
not only that but...
She could not bring herself to kill her own uncle. She had known the man since she was born, In fact he was the one to teach her how to read when her father was too busy. Even if he killed her father... How could she bare to bring the sword down on him? even though she had the will to do it. she just couldnt.
'No! Dammit' She said to herself as se put his sword back. she would find a more suitable occasion, when he was drunk, or asleep, or in a rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed, or gambling, swearing, or some other act that had no taste of salvation in it. Then he would trip him so that his heels would kick out at heaven. His soul would then be damned as black as the hell it was destined for. Her mother was waiting, but this delay would only prolong his uncle's last sickly days. she turned and went out quietly.
Julius rose. He hadn't been able to pray. His words had been flying up to heaven but his thoughts had been dwelling on those worldly things that he couldn't get out of his mind. Words without thoughts never went to heaven.