Chapter 13
I
When I was a child, our family priest, the so called honorable father John Brown, once spent a whole week trying to teach me and my brothers about heaven. According to the elderly holy man, heaven was a place of unimaginable splendor, of virgin white marble pillars, alabaster statues, rich golden frameworks with exquisite depictions of God, Jesus, and the whole saintly gang, topped off with gilded thrones on elevated platforms. Those who were found worthy would join our heavenly father and spend eternity in his desired company, mingling with the angels while draped in fine robes of silk and gold brocade, and wearing rich jewels crafted from the rarest of gems.
Upon hearing his description, I did not think this particular image of heaven was unimaginable at all. I only had to take a look at the riches displayed inside the priest's chapel and the extravagant way the pompous man was dressed, to get a clear notion where his ideas of heaven came from. When I dared to speak out and call his views rather corrupt and worldly, he berated me and rebuked by questioning my own vision of heaven.
In my naivety, I replied with honesty that I thought that everything, every man, every beast, and every plant in God's creation was considered equal, and therefore we would either all look the same in heaven, or we would not have a physical form at all.
The greybeard seemed to be too confused by my unusual answer to be able to mock or to dismiss it immediately, but my brother George, quick witted and always the funny jester, burst out sniggering and replied; "Dear brother mine, if I looked anything like you I would indeed prefer your version of heaven over that of father Brown's any day!"
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Meanwhile, the witless clergyman, who was usually not much charmed by my brother's smart mouth and crazy parlor tricks, conveniently joined in with the ridicule. That will teach you boy, the vindictive wretch eagerly pointed out, let it be a lesson to you not to be disrespectful to your elders!
The only wise lesson his spiteful idiocy had taught me is that a man's view of heaven revealed much about his character. Father Brown was clearly corrupt to the bone and had an ungodly attachment to the finer things in life. Judging by the way how Ophelia's father, had recreated his version of heaven in his place of banishment, I could only conclude that he had an unhealthy obsession with regaining access to this lost paradise.
The fallen angel led us deeper inside the underground bowels of the cave. Instead of it becoming darker as logic dictated, it became lighter with every step, but without any visible source of light. It was as if the white rocks themselves were emitting a mysterious glow that illuminated our passageway. As we ventured further, the formless rocks began to take more familiar shapes. I saw flocks of birds, cut out of the white, almost translucent rocks. Live-like in detail, size, and stance, they seemed to have just turned to stone at the exact moment when they were about to take flight. When I craned my neck back and stared up to the ceiling, the rest of the flock could be seen, their wings spread wide as if the creatures were battling an imaginary storm.
A little further down, the cave took on the appearance of a long corridor. Majestic pillars spiraling towards the ceiling where they bloomed into a crown of perfectly symmetrical arches. It gave the impression that we had turned into ants and were scuttling near the roots of giant plants. Between these pillars stood neatly at equal distance, colossal statues of angels. They all emitted a white celestial light, and were perfect in their divine forms, their faces beautifully crafted and expressive, their wings folded out wide. Like the birds, they looked like they were about to fly up to heaven.
"Ah! My most gracious brothers." Clemens explained. "Oh how I miss their companionship. Sometimes I pace around the corridor for hours, just to have a word with them."
I glanced sideways at Ophelia with a questioning look, which she answered with the slightest of shrugs.
"Of course, they are less talkative than the real ones, but I find that sometimes I prefer them this way. They seem to agree more and argue less."
"How convenient that must be." I muttered, wondering why in the devil's name I always ended up in the hands of complete and utter lunatics.
We reached the end of the tunnel. On both sides, cut out of solid rock, were two alcoves. In one stood a gilded cage in which a black feathered creature was kept. It was as large as a May calf, and although it appeared to be a bird of some kind, complete with avian features like wings and a long twitchy tail, it looked misshapen and vicious. When it saw us approach, it started to beat with it gigantic wings, banging the tips against the bars, while uttering a fearsome screech.
In the other alcove was a mural chiseled into the white rock. It depicted a door, one that appeared to provide access into a hidden garden as it sat in a stonewall that was covered by green creepers. Behind it, the upper branches of trees and flowering shrubs could be seen.
"Where are we?" I asked, keeping a nervous eye on the bird. It seemed to be getting increasingly anxious and was now jumping around in its cage, flapping madly while sending its black feathers flying in the air.
Clemens gave me an incredulous look. "Well isn't it obvious? You're facing your destiny."
"All I see is a golden cage with a monstrous crow and a stone mural."
"And you are a fallen star disguised in human form. I assume that by now you can understand that appearances can be deceptive." He pointed at the two alcoves. "What you see before you are two doorways. One is leading to freedom, the other to a quest."
"Do you always twist your tongue with riddles?"
"Oh it really depends on the company." He replied with an amused smile, but the slight pull of his upper lip showed that he was losing his patience. "If they are too feebleminded I rather not waste my breath and don't speak to them at all."
I could hardly imagine this loud bombastic man to be silent, not even for the briefest of seconds. "Which one is to freedom?" I asked, requesting what my heart was longing for the most.
As if he had expected this question to come from me, Clemens grinned and nodded silently at the alcove in which the bird cage sat.
"It's not what you think Richard." Ophelia warned. "It will not lead you to your freedom."
"She is right, it leads to mine." Clemens revealed with a pompous smile. "I have been imprisoned on this one rock island for decades. I cannot leave this place, not without your help, and not without a blood sacrifice."
"And that is what that other portal is for? Is that going to be my task? I go through that doorway, take on your ridiculous quest, free you from your prison, and you go find and have a mighty battle Lucifer?"
"Yes, that was more or less plan." Clemens commented, folding his hands behind his back.
"Aha, and no doubt this mission is very dangerous, life-threatening, and almost impossible to achieve?" I mocked. I realized very well that I was testing his tolerance with my insolence, but under these circumstances, my wit and sarcasm was all I had left in my defense.
"Not if that task is assigned to the right man." The smile he now flashed at me seemed as sincere as the grin of a fleshless skull.
"What do you exactly want from me? What is on the other side of that stone door?"
"To free me, you need to get your hands on the key." He pointed out the lock on the cage. "And if you want to put the devil back inside the box –"
"You need the box, the Avernus. What else do you require?"
"A set of chains. You cannot expect my illustrious brother to go quietly without a good fight, but all the angels left in heaven will not be enough to subdue him. Lucifer will have be dragged back into the chaoplasm by his chains."
"It will require the chains that the furies used to bind themselves to Orestes." Ophelia added.
"Orestes?" I furrowed my brows in confusion.
"The son of king Agamemnon, prince of Mycenae. The furies punished him for murdering his own mother."
"I remember that story." I muttered. "Orestes and his torment by the furies. Our tutor's assistant used to tell us this story if we behaved ourselves during class. It's a Greek myth, just a fairy tale to scare little children."
"It is true. It is all true." Ophelia replied. "Richard, how can you still doubt my words even now?"
"Because you have sold me so many of your fantastical lies already." I told her most reproachfully.
She remained silent, and appeared so repentant that I could be easily fooled again to believe that her remorse was sincere.
"Stop blaming her." Clemens said firmly. He walked over to me, still perfectly calm, still perfectly in control. Oh how would I love to smash my fists into his cold condescending face. "My daughter was only trying to do what was right. So should you, Richard of York, the fallen king." He gazed down at my hands. "You can see it sometimes, don't you? I know you do. I can see it too. There is so much blood on them that even with all the water of Neptune's oceans, they shall never be washed clean again."
"My sins are none of your concern." I sneered back at him.
"Oh but they are my concern. Tell me, have you no desire to atone for your heinous crimes? Don't you wish you don't have be afraid anymore in the dark when you are all alone and left with only your burdened conscience to keep you company?"
I thought of how my life would be without her, without Ophelia. I thought of the many people who I had killed, all those ghosts that were still buried deep inside my subconscious, ready to re-emerge as soon as the thin sheet of normality was breached. A sense of great hopelessness and dread came over me when I realized that without her, I would be cast back into that darkness, back into insanity. I would become a victim again of my own dreadful conscience. Then I remembered what Clemens did to mad Margaret.
"If I help you, will you free me from my guilt, like you did with Margaret of Anjou?"
"If that is what you desire. Yes. Yes I will."
"And afterwards, you will leave me in peace, both of you?" I shot an accusing glance at him and Ophelia, for despite knowing and despairing how my life would be unbearable without her, I was still angry with her, and so foolishly proud.
"I vow that I will." Said Clemens firmly. Ophelia only replied with a silent timid nod.
"And what will happen if I decide not to help you?"
A sly smile curled the corners of Clemens's lips. "I shall be extremely disappointed. I shall regret your decision. I can also assure you that you shall regret your decision too, and most grievously so. We shall be both utterly devastated." The smile vanished from his face. "My fallen brother Lucifer has regained his liberty, and is about to bring a great evil to this world. If he succeeds, all of it shall weigh heavy on my conscience. You are the only path that could lead to me to salvation. I am sorry Richard, but I cannot allow you to have a will of your own."
"So I have no choice." I concluded. A miserable feeling crept inside my stomach. For a man who had spent most of his life dealing out threats to others, I was quick to recognize that I was now finding myself helplessly at the receiving end.
"See, you can be rather clever, if you try hard enough." Clemens noted with a faked smile that did not reach his eyes. "Now stay that way. Try to keep up with the lessons." He came closer, and the smile abruptly disappeared from his face.
"You have no choice whatsoever." He told me in a low, dangerous voice, knowing very well that he had won. "Now, shall I send you on you way?"
Before I could protest, the flat slate of rock that was carved out in the form of a large wooden door in the mural opened up. The cavern was suddenly flooded with the sunlight as bright as that of a cloudless afternoon. A warm pleasant wind swept in and brought on its trail fragrances of spurge and cypress, and the smell of roof tiles baking in the hot sun. I squinted, and raised my hand to shield my eyes against the brightness, but still saw very little. What in heaven's name lies behind that portal?
"Beware, the custodians of the relics will not so easily give up their charge. The trials to obtain them shall be difficult. I will let Ophelia come with you. She will guide and protect you, just like she has done your whole life."
"What do you mean my whole life? We have only met last winter." I replied. The open doorway appeared to be bigger, the light even brighter. Was it my own overactive imagination, or had it just moved towards me?
"You will be safe." The fallen angel said. "She will keep you safe, and return you back to me."
I had not taken a single step but I could swear that I had come closer to the portal, and so had Ophelia. We were standing on the threshold, side by side, Ophelia's black locks fluttered behind her in the warm breeze when she turned and gave me an alarmed look. The light was now blinding. The heat wrapped itself around my body and I was sweating like I was out in an open field on a hot summer day.
"Don't forget!" Clemens called behind us. "The key, the Avernus, and Orestes chains, we shall need all three, or all shall be lost!"
There came a sudden great rush of air from the cavern behind us. It was accompanied by a loud whooshing sound, as if a large flock of birds was lifting up. A thousand pairs of wings were beating simultaneously and sweeping into the sky. The strong current pushed us right through the blinding light of the portal, heading straight into the unknown.
III
I was ready to scream out in terror, half expecting that we were sent to a horrible fire and brimstones place. Instead, Ophelia and I found ourselves outside in the open. We were in a lush, warm, and most beautiful garden, the sort of idyllic green haven I imagined some long dead Greek philosopher would have the pleasure to stroll around back in distant antiquity. We stood on a narrow gravel path flanked by large terra cotta pots, each containing miniature citrus and peach trees. It led to a lawn with meticulously pruned hedges. Behind it, a strange looking pink building stood in the far distance.
The portal behind us had disappeared, and a hooded figure was coming our way, leaning heavy on his wooden staff. It was a tall man, dressed in a long habit, made from a white cloth that reflected the relentless midday sun so effectively that it appeared to glow.
"Travelers, you are most welcome." He spoke in a warm and gently voice. His movements were precise and elegant. If the angel of mercy had been a mad whirlwind of a man, this man was more like a summer cloud drifting over peaceful pastures. He was now so close that it allowed me to take a good at his face. I noticed, despite the long shadow cast by his hood that there was something wrong with his eyes. Where these features should be, were only two patches of rough scar tissue. The stranger extended his hands towards Ophelia and me.
"You are blind." I noted.
"Yes. I am." He paused for a moment. "Would you mind if I touch your face? It will help me to know my guests better."
"I don't mind." Ophelia replied, and let the blind man's fingers trace over her nose, cheeks and lips. When the man turned in my direction and was about to do the same to me, I quickly stepped back. "I am not going to let you do anything until you tell us where we are and who you are."
Our blind host lowered his hands slowly. "Oh do forgive my rudeness. I have not received visitors for a very long time. My name is Raziel. Before my fall from grace, I was known as the angel of duty."
"Raziel, I know that name." Ophelia muttered. "You were the second guardian of the Avernus."
"And you are Ophelia." Our host replied. "Beautiful and merciful Ophelia, the daughter of Clemens."
Ophelia furrowed her brows in surprise. "How did you know?"
"Your features." The host explained with the kindest of smiles. "They have the angel of mercy's delicate celestial touch. Your father used to be quite the artist."
"Yes I understand he does a lot of sculpting in his spare time." I murmured, thinking of the disturbing row of giant angels that the Clemens had so skillfully hacked out to keep himself company.
The blind host cocked his head in my direction. "Richard Plantagenet, I presume. I have heard many things about you. None of it was good. Was brother Clemens finally able to convince you to do his biddings?"
"He did not convince me. It was more of a threat really." I replied resentfully. "How did you know it's me?" I asked, becoming increasingly suspicious of these fallen angels. So far, they had not proven to be very trustworthy.
"I was expecting you." He replied with a broadening smile. He spread his arms wide as if to welcome us again. "In fact, this whole place has been waiting for your arrival for a very long time."
TBC
