August 2027: The Coronation Part XIV.
In the Abbey and across the watching world there was a brief moment of silence before the trumpets of the Household Cavalry sounded out a fanfare to proclaim the arrival of the King and his Consort. With that fanfare done, and the royal couple now fully inside the Abbey, the strains of I Was Glad by Hubert Parry began to echo out, as they had done all those years ago for his mother, and the sense of continuity that gave was palpable. Just as she had done back in 1953, the King began to process slowly down the aisle of the great church towards the throne that awaited him.
The congregation was on their feet now; beside little Wes, who was beaming wide eyed at the spectacle, Hester Frobisher felt her heart swell and her eyes moisten as she saw her King approach her, close enough to touch. She had to resist the urge to pinch herself, still not quite able to believe that she was actually in the heart of the ceremony. The order of service that she had been given would be taken home carefully so that it could join her official invitation in a locked box amongst her other treasured heirlooms…
All was timed so well that as the King passed them, his consort was already through the arch, in time to hear the massed choir that had squeezed into the choir stalls sing out the words "Vivat Regina Camilla!"; as he himself passed through the arch and emerged before them, they would sing the words "Vivat Rex Carolas!" almost as if greeting him…
Of course, Nick had already made the point of explaining to his son that Carolas was the Latin word for Charles, so the young boy knew that it meant "Long live King Charles!" and was not a reference to the lady that was sitting right behind him, next to her husband that was every bit as awestruck as she was…
Of course, as soon as the trumpet fanfare had sounded in the Abbey, the last member of the little group that was in the confines of the building had taken it for their big cue. Jeff had of course parted from the others as soon as they reached the little group of seats they had been allocated to, heading on with his access all areas pass into the passageway behind the choir stalls. As he entered it, he saw the two Archbishops, Canterbury and Westminster, in quiet conversation together in front of him. Neither of the men were in their robes yet, but they were running through the part that they would play in the ceremony one more time, even if the part the latter would play was much smaller. They seemed to have a friendly relationship, and he watched as a joke was shared; he knew though that he was an intruder on that, so he resisted the temptation to sketch them there and then…
He turned his attention instead to one of the Abbey staff that was standing nearby and handed the letter from Buckingham Palace to her; she smiled and guided him over to the door he was expecting, unlocking the Yale lock for him. She then explained that whilst he would be able to open the door from inside and let himself out, there would be no way of gaining entry again without finding a verger or another assistant like herself to unlock the door again. There was of course no question of just giving him a key…
He explained that was fine and stated that he intended to visit the restroom just before the final lockdown of the area at the top of the Abbey occurred at 10.30am. She nodded, then after he stepped inside, she closed the door behind him. The wooden steps before him were every bit as steep as he recalled, and he was grateful that all that he needed had been able to fit in his satchel as it gave him two free hands to grasp the handrails. On reaching the top, he was surprised to see that there was now a small easel present; obviously someone at the Palace had wanted him well equipped, and he had to admit that it would be handy to rest his sketchbook on. There was also a seat now, with a cushion, which was also a boon; he had been expecting to have to lean on the wooden wall panels for the duration, but a chair was so much better…
He had made some preliminary sketches of the scene before him as he waited for the time to reach 10am. He recorded the details of the altar cloth, and then every item that was arranged upon the altar itself, including the two crowns that would be placed on the heads of the monarch and his wife; they were being guarded discreetly from a distance. He went on to record the carvings on the choir stalls and on the stone pillars that held up the roof high above him; all this would be critical background detail for his main sketches, which would be made when the place was full of people.
At 10am sharp he stopped drawing and ate the sandwiches that Nick had procured from the hotel kitchen for him; then he ate the cookies and drank the hot tea from the thermos flask that had taken up a big part of the space in his satchel. That done, he made his way as he had said to the restroom and got back in place just before the 10.30am deadline he had been set. That done, all he had to do was wait for the main event to start.
He watched from above as the massed choirs filed in, and he made a point of sketching them too; not so much the individual faces but the clothes they were wearing. He captured their cassocks and surplices, and also the medals that some had around their necks, awarded he believed on behalf of the Royal School of Church Music. He looked down particularly on the boys and men of the Abbey's own choir, and pondered if he could do what they did every week – he knew at once that the answer would be no, and not just because he did not have a particularly strong faith. No, he knew that he could not willingly give up each and every Sunday to sing in the choir…
He sat then, with his pencil at the ready, as the clock ticked slowly on. He resisted the temptation to send a text to Nick or indeed anyone else, as he already had his phone off and would have to switch it back on to do so; that done, he might forget to switch it back off again. A ringtone sounding in the middle of a solemn and sacred moment of the Coronation in close proximity to the monarch himself could not be described as good…
In some ways then the fanfare when it came was a relief to the blond, and by the time the words were sung wishing their Majesties a long life he had his pencil poised on the sketch pad, his hand a blur as he sketched the details of the faces of the Queen Consort and her two escorts, and then King Charles himself. He also took a few quick snapshots of them with his camera, the flash definitely switched off; again, Nick had taken care of that, as well as seeing that the item in question, his old one that had been replaced with a newer model as a Christmas gift, had full batteries and an empty memory card…
As Jeff sketched and snapped alternatively, he almost forgot that he had a superior view to those in the congregation beyond the arch into the choir stalls, whose eyes were therefore glued to the TV screens. They all knew that the biggest moment of all was scheduled to take place at midday, but there was so much else to witness before that in a ceremony that had its roots back in the Middle Ages. This was of course the first time that the whole world could watch the service live as it happened, and the first time that those in Britain itself could see it on television in colour. There was perfect sound, and focus on the important moments, pictures being seen just seconds after they were shot in such far-flung places as Dunedin in New Zealand and Vancouver in Canada, two extremities of the Commonwealth, and two nations that called Charles their King…
Of course, there was the issue of time difference, and the Coronation was being shown just after 3am in British Columbia, and after 10pm in New Zealand. In the latter case there had been many that questioned if there would be a massive audience for it, but the bars and nightclubs were unusually quiet, and in the former the televisions were tuned to the footage. The theatres had started their performances that evening early so that cast and audience could watch. The fact was that he was their King too, and it would be an event that would be talked about for decades to come, just as the Queen's funeral had been.
In New York, Thad had also pondered how many of his countrymen and of the Canadian population to the north would be viewing that Saturday morning, but only briefly, as the ceremony had him, as a history teacher, hooked. Of course, the cat in his lap had loudly protested the trumpets as they woke him from his slumbers, but once they ended, he swiftly closed his eyes again. For him at least, the trivial actions of humanity were not of any great interest at this hour.
Most of the adults watching or attending the Coronation had seen the online video of the events of 1953 and it was clear to all of them that this was going to be a more streamlined and modern affair. The congregation was also much smaller, with no temporary galleries having been constructed within the great church this time. The number of peers and upper-class attendees was also smaller; this was a more inclusive ceremony for a more modern monarch, hence the mix of people in the congregation, and the fact that those participating were not just Christian clergy and peers, but those of all classes and creeds. Senior representatives of all of the major faiths in the United Kingdom were present and would have a role in presenting some of the regalia of monarchy to the king as he sat on his throne. That throne, however, was the same one that had been occupied by the nation's monarch on their Coronation Day for centuries.
The music during the service was eclectic too, the classic pieces that were played at every Coronation being interspersed with more modern ones; there was singing in Welsh to mark his previous role as Prince of Wales, and Greek chanting as well, a tribute and mark of respect to his late father, who had been a Prince of Greece. What was most impressive though was the way that it had all been planned and then rehearsed so that everything was done to the exact second to ensure that the crowning itself took place dead on midday. If the Archbishop of Canterbury spoke a little faster at times to claw back a few lost seconds, or the organist played a little more up tempo, then nobody noticed it…
The screens that were placed around the King to give privacy as he was anointed were more solid than the golden canopy that had been used to cover his mother; as it was held in place, Jeff's pencil moved rapidly over the paper, not so much with a desire to capture the decorations on the screens, which he had already seen as they lay in wait for the big day. No, he wished to capture the expressions on the faces of the servicemen that were holding it in place, on what was a day that they would also recall for the remainder of their lives.
It was as this anointing was taking place that a gentle draught was felt by Pam and she turned to face Carole and Burt, and saw that they too were smiling, as they knew as well as she did now what that draught signified.
"They say that nobody can do ceremonial and pomp like the British, and they are so right! Every little detail is spot on, and everything is timed to precision. It is such an honour to be here to witness this first hand," came Blaine's voice, which made Pam smile.
"I think though that it is the costumes that they are wearing that really make it spectacular. The robes that are being worn by the entire family are redolent of a previous age, especially in the case of the Princess Royal in that uniform, and wearing that tricorn hat with the red feather on it as well…"
Pam's eyes widened then at the sound of the second voice, quite clearly Kurt, a voice that she recalled from the few times they had met when he had come round to their Westerville house to see Blaine.
"Of course, the Queen Consort looks particularly stunning, her make-up done to absolute perfection."
"With my mom doing it, my love, it was never going to be anything else," Blaine replied, and Pam felt her cheeks redden just a little at how much pride there had been in her late son's voice as he spoke. "Now the big moment is coming, when he follows in his late mother's footsteps…"
"And we will have a much better view of that back up where we were," came a third voice now, one imbued with authority…
"Okay Wes, we're coming," said Blaine, as Kurt sighed.
Pam felt the draught again, a little stronger this time, but then heard that third voice, the Wes she had heard so much about from Blaine but had never met. "Kurt was correct about her make-up by the way - absolute perfection. Mrs Anderson, I salute you!" he said, and then there was another draught…
Pam sat there in stunned silence, her mind in overdrive at hearing three angels, until Carole whispered in her ear. "Wes is still very much in charge of them all, occupying a senior role up in the heavens, or at least that is what Finn has told me…" Pam nodded, her brain still processing the fact that she had just heard three angels chatting away about things as if they were in the row behind her, watching events alongside them all…
Wes was correct, of course; the angels had a vantage point that was better than even Jeff's was, on a ledge above the altar. They sat their silently, until the moment came when the Archbishop of Canterbury was standing right below them, all of the honours have been presented, and the King now holding the two sceptres; the St Edward's Crown was all that was left, and he was now blessing it. Finn sat with Emily at his side, and she was of course the most moved by all of it, being English. Seth sat on her other side; his eyes wide as he saw at close quarters things that most other people he had known would only witness on their television screens. He knew that Skylar and Julia had been planning to watch events, and he had been invited to join them. He had turned them down gently, and Skylar had realised why. He had no issue with his best friend being at the heart of the action rather than sitting in Ohio with him…
At the other side of Finn sat Kurt, then Blaine and finally Wes, all of them now watching intently as the Abbey fell silent, as the Archbishop now moved from the altar to stand in front of the throne. He was followed by one of the other bishops that had been standing at his side for the blessing, and they were carrying the crown. With the Archbishop directly in front of the King, facing him, the crown was handed over. This was the pinnacle of the career of the head cleric of the Church of England, along with the funeral earlier in the year; the whole world was watching as he took the heavy crown firmly in both hands, and prepared to crown the monarch…
He checked it carefully, looking for the marker which discreetly told him which was back and front; when Wes had told him about that, Finn had chuckled, but now he sat in silence with the others as the check made, the Archbishop raised the crown in his hands high above the head of the King, so that it was visible to those below them in the Abbey. To some, it looked as if he was about to thrust it down on his head, but he did not, placing it gently upon him. He adjusted it, lifting it back off, then placing it once more, before standing back a little, to check it was correct and straight. Satisfied, he stepped much further back and raised his head to the gathered congregation…
"GOD SAVE THE KING!" came the shout from the Archbishop of Canterbury.
"GOD SAVE THE KING!" came the answering cry from every corner of the Abbey. Nick found himself shouting it out along with Miss Frobisher and his son, the former now letting tears fall as the emotion of being there actually hit home. Then outside there was the distant sound of military guns being let off in Hyde Park, drowned out by the sound of a trumpet fanfare ringing out again in the Abbey, a much longer one this time. On the screens in the Abbey, and on the television screens of the world, the King could now be seen, the crown on his head as he sat in his stately robes and full regalia…
That television image was the culmination of the previous rituals that had left the world watching in silence; allowed to witness in detail a ceremony whose basics had not altered much in centuries. In Holborn, Adam had said the same four words that those in the Abbey had uttered along with them as he sat with his fiancé, proud to be British at that moment. Artie had sat between Kitty and Sam, remarking on it all, thinking at times that what he was watching was a kind of live action, less violent, Game of Thrones. There was all of the symbolism that a monarchy thrived on, mixed with tradition to create a superb piece of theatre without comparison anywhere in the world. When they had sat down together, Sam and Kitty had done so with much less interest than the director, but now he could see from the expressions on their faces that they were totally enthused with it all….
He smiled, then said, "If the two of you want to head down to The Mall to see if you can find a spot to squeeze into to watch the procession back to Buckingham Palace, then I won't mind. I'm fine staying here, but you should go and be there, in this moment in history." He had expected Sam to be keen, but it was Kitty that was the most enthusiastic, as long as he didn't mind. He didn't, although he felt sorry for any unsuspecting British person that stood in her way to the front. As they left, he turned his eyes back to the television screen, just in time to witness the moment when a crown was placed by the Archbishop on the head of the Queen Consort…
In the sitting room of the small apartment that she had rented, Isabelle too was focused on that moment, the crowning of a woman that had once been a pariah to so many; now she was the Queen Consort. She smiled for her, knowing that her love story with the King pre-dated the arrival of Diana on the scene, and that had certain people at Buckingham Palace not been so opposed to the idea, then Camilla could have been the wife of King Charles III much sooner than she was. She looked perfect, a tribute to the combined talents of her dressmaker, her hairstylist, and of course, the skilled eye and hands of Pam Anderson…
The fact that her make-up was already the talk of Twitter would of course make an idea that she had had much easier for Isabelle to sell to the board at Vogue. There was a vacancy amongst the columnists at the magazine thanks to a recent retiral; they currently had no specialist on make-up, and in the Vogue editor's eyes, Pam was the perfect person to fill that spot, even if she had to have her columns ghostwritten. She would have an instant appeal to a certain age group of women that were the core part of the readership of the print edition, but her fame would also attract the younger generation to her. She might have mentioned it tentatively to a few people that she knew in the upper echelons of Bloomingdales, and they had agreed that the firm would have no issue with it. Of course, all of it depended on the lady in question being willing to do it…
Her focus returned to the screen just in time to witness the Prince of Wales pledge allegiance to his father as his liegeman of life and limb, then after touching his crown reverentially, he kissed him on the cheek. It was such a touching moment, one that could melt even the hardest of hearts. She glanced over at the two men in the room then; Julian looked tearful at the show of love between father and son, and as for Peter, he was fascinated by it all, and somehow still managing to send texts to Constance back in Manhattan. She was watching the service too in her dorm room, and the texts she was exchanging with her boyfriend were how they could share the experience…
Isabelle started to ponder how the magazine was going to cover the event, as there was so much material there for them to use; she wondered if it might be best to produce a special number to cover the event, particularly given the large number of women that were employed in key roles throughout the ceremony…
Back in his spot in Westminster Abbey, Jeff was starting to feel an ache in his hand, as his pencil worked hard to capture everything he possibly could; he was grateful that he had the camera as well to take those candid shots that he could use for reference when he made his drawings later. History was being made, and he was determined to capture as much of it as he could for himself.
He had taken shots of the assembled family too, especially the elderly cousins of the Queen, Princess Alexandra and the Duke of Kent, both in their nineties, this being the third Coronation in their lifetime. Both were still active members of the family, carrying out royal duties on behalf of the monarch, although much fewer than they once did. Then there was the Duke of Gloucester, only four years older than the King, which meant that his diary and indeed his wife's were still kept full with engagements that appeared in the columns of the Court Circular in the quality newspapers. All three had been at the Queen's Coronation in 1953, and seeing her son crowned would doubtless have stirred up memories of that day for them…
Jeff realised that the ceremony was drawing now towards its close, as a hymn was sung by everyone. He did not sing along as he scanned his sketches, smiling at one he had made of the King in his throne, back to him, as he was blessed by the senior Christian bishops of the United Kingdom, the Anglican archbishops joined by the Roman Catholic Cardinal, the head of the Methodists, the leader of the Evangelical churches, and by the archbishop of the Greek Orthodox church too. That chimed with the wishes of the new monarch to be the defender of all faiths, not just the Anglican one.
Jeff knew too that the King would be stopping as he processed out of the Abbey after the ceremony came to its close at the door, so that he could talk with the leaders of the non-Christian faiths; there would be senior representatives of the Jewish, Sikh, Muslin, Hindu and Buddhist faiths in particular. This was another expression of the desire of the monarch to represent everyone in the nation, not just a small section. That notion made Jeff smile, just as Nick had done when he first heard. Charles would be a good King, but the world would still miss his mother – and as some had rightly said, it would be the final public moment of the day that would bring her absence home to them all….
The timetable was being adhered to rigidly and thus the ceremony came to its close bang on the minute that it was supposed to. The newly crowned King processed back out of the Abbey followed by his Queen Consort, the congregation rising to their feet once more. They sang the National Anthem, all of those present joining in the words, regardless of their nationality. Even Jeff rose to his feet in his spot above the choir stalls, not worried now if it meant that he was visible to some of the congregation, as he knew that the focus of them and the television cameras would be back on the aisle. Every step that procession took was a measured one, and it was slow too, taking account of the weight of the crown on the head of the monarch.
As the King passed them, Nick bowed, his son doing the same unprompted, as Miss Frobisher curtsied. Those behind them did the same, before Pam made a swift exit by the same route that she had entered. A car was waiting to return her directly to the Palace, so she would be in place to check on the Queen Consort's make-up before the family made the obligatory appearance on the balcony. The telephoto lenses of cameras meant that even the slightest flaw would be spotted at some distance.
The King and his wife were followed out of the Abbey by the rest of the immediate family, his eldest son and heir the first to follow. Beside him, the Princess of Wales was looking radiant, but Nick was relieved to see that Louis did not try to wave to Wes this time; in fact, the youngest of the family guests looked quite tired by now. The image on the television screens was by now of the main door, showing all of the representatives of non-Christian faiths waiting in anticipation of the King's arrival. He and his wife would pause there, but the rest of the family would continue to process out of the building. At the same time, the Princess Royal would discretely leave the procession and head out via a side door, as she had a special role to play in the procession, and that meant she needed to change her footwear and then mount her horse.
As the King neared the door of the Abbey, the air was suddenly filled with the sound of bells, those of the Abbey itself ringing out a joyful peal and being joined by the churches across London and indeed the whole nation, to mark the moment that the ceremony came to a close. In Holborn, the bells of St Paul's Cathedral were the loudest, and had started a fraction of a second after those at Westminster Abbey had been heard on the television. Lawrence listened to them as he continued to watch the screen of the television; he had got a brief glimpse of Nick as the procession had passed, which had made him smile. Now though the monarch had arrived is
Adam was smiling at that, and said, "Well, that is the Chief Rabbi for a start, and I think that the man next to him is the head of the Muslim Council." Lawrence nodded, noting the turbaned head of the man beside the Muslim leader, and also the bright orange robes of the senior Buddhist. "He said the day after his mother passed away that he would endeavour to be the defender of all faiths and having them all there in the Abbey at the Coronation, and moreover, making time to acknowledge them all so publicly is a good way to illustrate that he intends to keep that pledge. Of course, it would have been almost regarded as treason to even suggest that such a thing could have happened back in 1953…"
"It was a different world then, a less connected one, when Britain was very much a white and Christian nation. That isn't the case now and to remain relevant, the Royal Family has to be seen to acknowledge that and when possible, reflect that truth," observed Lawrence, which was something he could do with ease as an outsider looking in.
By now the King had moved on and was stepping out of the Abbey into the light of day. He moved towards the Gold State Coach, which was looking resplendent, especially as the sun had now broken through a gap in the clouds, and the rain was easing off. The crowd that had assembled opposite the doors let out a cheer as they saw him appear, and that was almost a signal to the vast assembly of military personnel that would make up the great procession back to the grounds of Buckingham Palace. Such were the numbers involved that the head of the parade was almost at Trafalgar Square, and it would take a great deal of planning to ensure that it all went smoothly.
Lawrence got up from his seat at that point to make a start on lunch, and Adam excused himself to hurry to the bedroom that they shared, citing a need to use the restroom. He did so, but then took a moment to check on the overnight bag he had packed. He also checked on Lawrence's bag, his fiancé still thinking that they were heading out to his parents' place in Surrey. He also went over to the room safe and extracted his and Lawrence's passports and placed them in the inside pocket of his jacket. He quickly double-checked the departure time of their Eurostar train, and then headed back to the living room. He entered to find Lawrence staring at the television screen again.
"They all moved off at once, no delay or missteps. It is all so well organised and choreographed; it is flawless."
"That is what weeks of rehearsal creates, my love. It is like me preparing for a show on stage, every movement marked out and practiced until it is second nature. Go back to the sofa and watch, and I will finish up the sandwiches."
There was no argument from Lawrence, and when Adam brought the sandwiches over to him, he had to tap him on the shoulder and place the plate in his hand to even get him to realise he was present. As they ate, Adam hoped that the smile on his fiancé's face would remain there when all of the subterfuge that he had been engaging in came out into the open, and he walked him through the doors of the Eurostar terminal in St Pancras station in a short while. After all, what he thought of as a grand romantic gesture might not go down well; not all of them did…
