The Flamells' deaths
There is a woman and a man who follow Nicholas and Nell wherever they go. They follow them unobtrusively, not causing any concern. They have done so for more than six hundred years now.
Once, Nicholas and Nell went out in the world, just like so many others, eager and full of life. They ate and drank, fought and loved, they marvelled over all the colours that are given to those who live. They enjoyed victories and friendships, and they suffered defeats and betrayals - such is life structured after all. Eventually the time came for them to die.
The woman and the man who follow Nicholas and Nell are their deaths. They have followed them all the time, sharing their life and their experiences - and those are plenty. They remember the day when they both stepped forward; the day when they were to fulfil their function and take their charges with them to the land without any colour, the land of the dead. Nicholas and Nell had refused to go. They had said that they were not willing, that there were so many things left for them to see and do and experience in the land of the living. Let others go to the land without any colour, they had said. Let others stumble into the darkness and disappear. They wanted no part of it, and they told their deaths so much. Their deaths had been persistent, but so had they, and in the end, the two deaths had had to step back into the shadows again; hiding as they were used to just out of sight, their business not yet conducted.
The Flamells had been polite though. They had asked their deaths kindly to linger, in case they should change their minds. They had inquired if there were some action they might take to ease their discomfort. They always treated them with respect. They didn't allow the deaths to follow them too closely, however, and they were not let into the house. The Flamells did not, for some reason, feel very comfortable with their deaths too close.
But they did allow them in, one day each year. The day they should have died. Then, Nicholas and Nell cleaned their house and put on their best clothes. They prepared a delicious dinner and chose the most exquisite wine from their cellar. Then they opened the door, and their deaths entered. They sat by the table, holding the plates and the glasses, talking to the Flamells with their hoarse, whispering voices about the year that had passed, and about earlier years, and they all marvelled how time flew, and rejoiced in old memories. And the deaths would inquire, perhaps, if it wasn't time yet? If, perhaps, their charges hadn't changed their minds and decided to follow them on their last path to the land without any colours, to the land of the dead? But the Flamells had always refused. Politely but firmly. And when the evening turned to night, the deaths were asked to leave the house again.
So they followed their charges, through the centuries, respectfully following three paces behind them, respectfully staying by the door. They waited, patiently, as was their habit and their nature. So Nicholas and Nell went through the centuries, untouched by their deaths, and if some flavours of life lost their colours with time, others gained them, such is the nature of things. There is so much to see in the land of colours, after all. Six hundred years is hardly time even to get started.
Their deaths were sad, because they had failed in their duty. They did like their charges, they did wish them all the enjoyment they can get in the world of colours. But sometimes they longed terribly for stillness and the peace, and the fulfilment of their function. They feared that their charges would never wish to leave the world they are so fond of.
But today, something is amiss. The door to the house is open, and Nicholas and Nell stand in the doorway, in their finest clothes, and respectfully ask them to enter. They do so, hesitantly - because today is not the day their presence is usually asked for - and the house is cleaned and the table is laid, and a dinner of hitherto unseen splendour is prepared. The deaths sit down, shyly and uncertainly, and Nicholas and Nell start to talk to them. They talk about a long life, well spent. They talk about dangers that have arisen, about reconsiderations they have made, and about the next, exciting adventure, and they thank their faithful deaths for having followed them for all these long years. They ask them if they would like to fulfil their function, at last.
Their deaths can hardly believe what they are hearing, that the time has come, after all these years. But they stand up from the table, eagerly, and they take their charges' hands. Together they leave, Nicholas and the woman, Nell and the man, and together they walk out of the house, not behind each other, but side by side.