“Lady Veronica, wake up my Lady.” Veronica’s hand maid Corinna was gently shaking her as she slowly awoke in her favorite chair in the royal library at Kensington Palace. It was late in the afternoon and as usual Veronica had fallen asleep while studying the Winchester Chronicle, a very ancient text and the only copy of it left in the world.
“Pardon me my Lady but a taxi has just arrived with orders from the King for you to join them. It appears to be very important and they are in great haste. You must hurry.” Corinna helped Veronica dress and prepare to see the King and within 15 minutes she was escorted to a taxi waiting in front of the palace.
As the door to the car was opened Veronica slid in and was surprised to find none other than the King himself waiting for her in the back seat. Veronica was expecting to be driven over to Buckingham Palace as usual but seeing the King in casual street clothes took her a few seconds to recognize him and when she finally did, she jumped and exclaimed, “Oh, Your Majesty!”
The King was already very fond of Veronica but her honest and spontaneous reactions to the world around her made him love her even more, “Dearest Veronica, you are a delight!” said the King laughing. “You make the world a pleasant place no matter the darkness of the day and sadly today is very dark indeed.”
Veronica blushed slightly and nodded respectfully at the King in recognition of his kind words, then looked him in the eye and smiled gracefully.
“Veronica, you look lovely as always my dear but I’m afraid you will draw too much attention to us especially in light of where we are going. I must insist you put on something less—less flattering, if that is possible.” The King was as awkward as a teenager and for the first time Veronica saw him in a situation where he was not in complete and commanding control. She laughed inwardly thinking that his only awkwardness and insecurity in life was over a woman’s appearance.
Veronica assured the King it was no problem and as she was getting out of the taxi the King called to her and told her to be sure and bring an umbrella. Veronica looked up into a clear blue sky and then back at the King as if she had misunderstood what he just said to her. The King smiled and nodded confirming that she had heard him correctly, “Trust me—I am the rainmaker in this country, it will rain today.”
Veronica ran back through the palace doors, undressing as she ran up the stairs then returned within only minutes in a very comfortable and well-worn pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt and an umbrella. Climbing back into the taxi the King smiled warmly at her as they both sat back in their seats and after a few minutes he said, “You look lovely my dear.”
Veronica playfully hit the King in the chest as she would have done if the King had been anyone else in the world after such a ridiculous complement but she realized she had actually just hit the King of England. She didn't know what to say, if she should apologize or if she should even look at him. While she quietly contemplated her options she saw the King out of the corner of her eye laugh quietly, leaving a large smile on his face.
The taxi took them to the royal courts off Chancery Lane but then drove around to the back of the gothic building and turned onto Cary Street and stopped in front of a small and rather insignificant pub called the Seven Stars. Without a word, the King opened his own door as did Veronica and they walked into the dimly lit pub and stood inside waiting for their eyes to grow accustomed to the light. Being very observant for historical details, Veronica noticed the sign outside the pub said it was established in 1602. She stood placing the date of the pub into the historical facts she knew about London and realized that if this pub really was that old it would have survived the great London fire of 1666.
The pub was eerily empty and after a few minutes a short old man in his eighties approached them and without a word directed them to the back corner of the pub where a very narrow circular stairway lead them up to the second floor. The upper level of pubs were traditionally the living quarters of the pub keeper but as they reached the upper room Veronica noticed that it looked more like a library or a very old solicitor’s office with many rows of books in a very ornate bookcase that covered the entire back of the room. There were four small windows that looked out onto the narrow street below which didn’t allow for much light despite there being only a lace covering and no formal curtains. Consequently there were three oil lamps burning which accounted for all the other light in the room and Veronica noticed that there was no electric light on the ceiling nor were there any switches or plugs to be seen. The room looked like it had been unaltered and undisturbed for over 400 years.
The old man was breathing heavily from the walk up the steep stairs and after entering the room, he walked over to an open window and shut it cocooning the room in complete silence. Still without saying a word, he invited Veronica and the King to have a seat on a red velvet Victorian sofa that faced a very old, ornately carved sea locker. He then slowly walked over to the locker and placed his hand on the doors, resting for a few moments before opening it.
A sea locker was used up until the 19th century as a type of very large shipping crate by both sailors and travelers to stow all their effects. Some sea lockers were so large and heavy that they required block and tackle to hoist it on and off board. Many were richly decorated and ornately carved and some were so elaborate that they were used as a piece of furniture while on shore.
After the old man had caught his breath he reached into his vest pocket and took out an old skeleton key, inserted it into the keyhole and turned it. Nothing happened at first but then a series of gears and locks could be heard in succession starting at the top of the doors then down to the bottom. After the sounds stopped, the door slightly opened and the old man pulled them apart, opening them wide.
Just then, Veronica could hear it begin to rain outside and she turned to look out the windows and then turned to the King and smiled, “You called that one right your Majesty.”
The King laughed slightly, amused with Veronica’s ignorance, “It always rains when we open the Locker.”
Veronica narrowed her eyes as she tried to make sense of what the King had just told her, again wondering if she had heard him correctly. She turned back and noticed that it was also raining inside the locker and she tried to speak but there was nothing to be said. It was definitely raining inside the locker as well as out on the street. The only thing Veronica could do was turn to the King with an open mouth.
“I told you I was the rainmaker,” said the King amusing himself. “You didn’t think England could naturally have as much rain as it does—surely. Over half of it comes from the use of the Rain Locker.”
Veronica was more than intrigued and was about to lash into a long series of questions when the old man began to speak for the first time but then was immediately cut short by the King.
“I’m sorry, but before we go any further I don’t believe you two have been properly introduced. Things are not so sinister today that we must forgo manners and pleasantries.” He then pointed to Veronica making the proper introductions, “This is Lady Veronica, whom you know but have never met. My Lady, Professor Moran just arrived from Belarus.”
Professor Moran of course knew about Veronica ever since he tested her blood for Anglo-Saxon ancestry in the Toprak lab but this was their first meeting, “How are you Veronica, ‘er—I mean my Lady,” he said correcting himself. Veronica smiled and exchanged the proper greeting to Moran and then quickly interjected a question before they began doing whatever they were about to do, “I’m sorry but I must know what this is and how it works.”
Moran looked at the King wondering if they had the time necessary to delve into the Locker’s history. The King nodded and stretched out his hand gesturing to Moran that he had the floor.
“My Lady, the Rain Locker was first used by Alfred the Great—as far as we know. It is not completely known how he discovered its use but legend has it that he first discovered this place,” said Moran as he pointed downward at the floor insinuating the location of the pub. “There is a very s
trong energy surrounding this spot and because of it certain gifts are greatly exaggerated and empowered, much like how the Minimum is affecting some things now. It is no coincidence that the Royal Courts were built across the street. It was felt that the increased energy source would assist the judges and juries to make wiser judgments.”
Moran walked over to a nearby chair and with a slight grunt sat down and then continued, “It was Queen Elizabeth’s last and very secret imperial order to turn this building into a public house in 1602, in an effort to protect the place and keep it secret from the Stuarts. Previous to that time, this building was considered a royal residence, though we have no record of any royalty living in it. It was of course a place with a royal guard to protect the Locker. As you well know, Elizabeth was the last Tudor and James was the son of Mary and a Catholic and in Elizabeth’s mind could not be trusted with such power. For 60 years, this upper room and the locker were kept very secret and only the most loyal were trusted with the knowledge of its existence. As you also know, this period in English history was very unsettled and peppered with civil war and puppet kings. Then in 1662, when William and Mary II took the throne its use was once again a part of the royal prerogative and it has remained so ever since. Of course it is no accident that this was one of the only buildings to survive the great London fire.”
Veronica shook her head, completely fascinated, “So what does it do?”
Moran got up from his chair with the same grunt as when he sat down and walked toward the locker, “Well, among many things, we are about to show you one of them. You might not think this is all that powerful given modern-day communication but considering its history and the current circumstances in the U.S. at the moment, it is quite remarkable.”
Moran got up and placed his hand inside the locker turning it over several times and then pulled it out and wiped his wet hand on his shirt, “But alas, the connection is not yet made. Their must also be a storm at the location you are attempting to reach in order for the connection to be made. We were told western Montana was expecting a storm today but it must not have started yet.”
The King got up to stretch his legs and walked over to a window and stared out at the storm as it increased in its intensity. The King had spent many long hours throughout his rein looking out onto the English inclement weather. The grey wet sky allowed him to think more deliberately without distracting mental wandering into nonsensical unrelated paths. He stood for several minutes watching the raindrops make hypnotic circles in the puddles on the street below, “Water is an incredible element, capable of so much more than getting us wet and quenching our thirst. Water is an envoy, a harbinger of sorts, with an incredible memory under the right circumstances.”
The King continued to stare out the window at the storm for several more minutes then resumed speaking, “Professor, perhaps we should close the locker and give our countrymen a reprieve; after all, it is a Sunday.”
Moran got up and closed the doors and after a few minutes, the rain began to dissipate and the clouds thinned allowing more sunlight to enter the dark room. Science was not one of Veronica’s strengths and the King could see her struggling to grasp the connection of the locker and water. He turned from the window and walked slowly across the room with his hands behind his back, “During the early part of this century, it was discovered that water could retain energy, both positive and negative. I assume you have heard of holy water?”
Veronica nodded, “Of course.”
“It is very real and has been proven to be much different than unblessed water on a molecular level,” the King sat down again next to Veronica and continued his science lesson, “Positively charged water, freezes into very ornate and beautiful crystals. Negatively charged water crystals are mere frozen mass with no beauty, structure, form or pattern—it is just frozen. Water has the natural ability to communicate and transfer energy from one host to another and from one place to another. We could assume our ancient ancestors were ignorant to such scientific enlightenment but we would be sorely wrong to assume such—very wrong indeed.”
Veronica began to connect the dots as it were between the Locker and water, “So, using the natural properties of water and the inherent energy of this location, our energy in the form of words can be relayed to a distant place?”
Moran, being a true educator was excited to see his pupil grasp a concept, “Exactly my dear, but not only place, but also time. As you know, Einstein proved that time is a relative continuum.”
Growing more excited as her understanding of the science grew Veronica slid forward on the sofa, “You can communicate to the dead and the unborn with this thing?”
Moran smiled at Veronica’s excitement, “Conceptually—only conceptually. The use of the Rain Locker still requires a skilled divinatory and as you will see here shortly, it also requires a tremendous amount of spiritual strength to direct the energy to the right place and person. I have never attempted it myself but there was one—at least one that we know of who was able to use it with tremendous skill.”
“And who was that?” asked Veronica.
“William Cecil,” said the King placing his hands behind his head and extending his legs. “He was Queen Elizabeth’s—the first—most trusted advisor. In my opinion, he is why she was such a consummate monarch. She certainly had wisdom well beyond her years, always did and from a very young age. William Cecil was always with her, grooming and educating her for the crown. On several occasions we know he was able to use the Locker to gather knowledge from the past to bring to light the unknown plots of the present.”
Veronica, still making connections and gathering enlightenment, “Oh!” she said pointing to Moran, “You are the King’s Cecil!”
Moran only nodded slightly as the King began to laugh, “That’s how it works, always has. Professor Moran is my Merlin that is for certain.”
Veronica sat back, pleased with herself but then remembered that Moran also said the Locker could be used to communicate with the future, “What about communicating with the future?”
“Again my Lady, conceptually—except the future is much more difficult. You must be very keen and exacting on the personage you wish to communicate, the future by definition is unknown—and how does one communicate with someone they do not know?” said Moran.
The King got up and opened a low cupboard below the bookcase that spanned the entire length of the back of the room and pulled out a decanter of scotch and pointed it at Veronica asking her if she would like a glass, “Oh—thank you, but no. I am an alcoholic failure I’m afraid. Spirits and Veronica don’t mix well.”
Veronica watched the King pour himself a glass as she looked at Moran and then back at the King wondering why he did not offer him a glass, “The Professor cannot have any alcohol in his blood since blood is mostly water and alcohol has a most terrible effect on stored energy.”
Veronica thought for a moment about how alcohol made her feel, “That explains a lot for me,” but as she watched the King take a drink she reconsidered, “maybe I’ll have just a sip.”
The King handed her his glass and after a very small sip, Veronica choked, “Whoa! I thought this was Scotch!”
The King, enjoying Veronica’s always-honest responses to life laughed, “It is but I must apologize. The energy here ages spirits most amazingly. This bottle is only a few years old and is from the royal distillery in Norfolk but the effect of it being in this room makes it taste as if it were many hundred years old.”
Veronica took another sip now that she was prepared for the effect, “Wow! That is the most amazing drink of anything that has passed my lips and slid down my throat!” She slid back in her seat enjoying the clean after-burn as she noticed several rays of sunlight making their way through the windows as the evening sun began to set, “So if you were to leave the locker open would it rain incessantly?”
The King returned to the sofa and placed his glass on the small and very old looking table in front of them, “Indeed it wou
ld—and has I might add.”
Moran got up and slid his hand along a string of carvings on the locker, “The destruction of the Spanish Armada to be precise. This relief was carved into the Locker in 1589, the year following the event.”
Veronica got up to inspect the carving Moran was touching and could see several dozen ships in various stages of sinking under a great storm carved into the Locker. Looking at the detail further she noticed men jumping from the ships and drowning in the enormous waves—hundreds of them, “So that miracle storm was the Sea Locker?”
“It was indeed. I don’t need to tell you the history as I know you could relay it better than me,” said the King. “However, the history books have excluded the details. In 1588, Elizabeth had been on the throne for thirty years but as you know her claim was always threatened by Scotland, France and Spain. England at the time was very inferior to France and Spain in terms of wealth and power, especially since her father Henry the VIII had broken with Rome. Philip of Spain was determined to destroy Elizabeth and all the Protestants on this rock with her so he assembled the largest naval force ever assembled in that age—130 ships of sail. Elizabeth was more than over powered and while they were in the Channel she did all she could which was to send out fire ships into the Spanish fleet. It was only effective in temporarily disrupting the Armada and they reunited on the North Sea as you know, preparing to invade the north where forces were weak and nearly non-existent. Elizabeth knew she was out maneuvered, out manned and out gunned.”
Veronica loved history and as she anticipated what the King was about to tell her, the room began to take on even more significance as she slowly walked around the room breathing into her soul the history of the place as the King continued, “Desperate, Elizabeth and Cecil came here and contemplated what they could do to preserve England. Cecil opened the locker and against Elizabeth’s pleadings, he reached out to Alfred the Great for advice. Elizabeth records that he tried nearly continuously for 12 days and on the 12th day, Cecil says he heard only four words come from the Locker in response to his question of how to defeat the Spanish Armada—It is already done.”
Veronica smiled and nodded as she began to understand what had happened, “So the Locker was open for 12 days in a row and that was what created the miracle storm that destroyed the Spanish fleet?”
“It was the worst continual storm anyone could remember in 1588 and it literally consumed the fleet. Out of 130 ships, only 50 made it back to Spain and over 5,000 men were drowned. They say their bloated bodies were washed up on the shore for weeks afterwards. So—now you can understand why Elizabeth kept this room a secret from the Stuarts?”
Veronica shook her head in amazement, “Indeed I can—and the rest of the world.” Veronica then smiled with amusement as she considered the name of the pub, “Hum, that’s clever.”
“What is?” asked the King.
“The name of this pub—The Seven Stars. Talk about hiding such power in plain sight.”
The King was not aware of any such symbolism and asked Veronica to explain, “How do you mean?”
“The Seven Stars—mentioned in the book of Revelations in the Bible? You are not aware of the reference?” said Veronica surprised that she knew something the King didn’t.
The King smiled, “I was told the pub was named after astronomy symbolism—the seven classical planets, the Pleiades and the Big Dipper—Ursa Major. If you know of another reference, please enlighten me.”
Veronica leaned against a window sill, “Well, in the first chapter of Revelations, St. John is told to write on seven scrolls and he is to send them to the seven churches which are symbolized in the scripture as stars. Pretty fitting that they called this communication center the Seven Stars don’t you think—meaning communicating with all.”
Moran was impressed, “Very good my Lady, what else is rather profound is there are also seven continents and ancient texts use the number seven to represent the Holy Spirit—which of course is the testator or revelator—communicator. The number seven is everywhere in our world and every culture in the world considers the number seven sacred on some level. However, I would wager if the Spaniards knew of this place they would liken it more with Revelations 1:16 where the seven stars are sharp like a doubled-edged sword.”
The King stood up and walked over to the locker and opened the doors, “Shall we see if we have rain in Montana Professor?”
As the doors opened, the rain slowly resumed outside and Moran pulled his chair directly in front of the Locker and sat down. He rubbed his hands on his face clearing his mind, gathering mental and spiritual strength. He sat quietly for several minutes with his head bowed and then with a deep sigh, slowly raised his head and stared into the locker as the King and Veronica intently watched.
Veronica could see a small light emanating from the back of the Locker which looked like it was a mile deep in the darkness. It slowly began to grow brighter and then faded like a distant approaching car on a winding rode in pouring rain. Then there was a loud screech like the sound of cold steel grinding to a stop and the dim light arced very brightly causing the King and Veronica to shield their eyes.
While their eyes were still closed, they could hear Gus’s voice emanating from the locker, “…A braver, stronger man there never was and we are all better for having our lives touch his. God receive his soul and…” Gus paused as his voice began to quiver and after a few minutes he resumed in an angered and broken voice, “Forgive me God—but we needed him here!”
Veronica opened her eyes in horror at what she thought she heard and screamed, “Matt—no, not Matt!” and she began to cry with Gus in bitter despair as she looked into the locker. She was surprised that not only could she hear Gus, she could see him and an area of approximately five feet around his person. She could see Gus standing next to a grave site and a body wrapped in an Indian blanket lying on a mound of dirt as she continued to weep assuming that the body in the blanket was none other than that of Matthew Hector. The King walked over and put his hand on Veronica’s shoulder and she turned and cried into his chest as he held her.
Gus, hearing Veronica’s voice looked around confused not knowing where the sound came from and then slowly said, “Veronica?”
Veronica turned to face the Locker and between sobs spoke to Gus, “Oh Gus! How did he die?” she cried as a renewed flood of sobs choked out her voice.
Gus was still very confused and continued to turn in circles calling her name, “Veronica my dear, I can hear you, but where are you?”
Veronica then saw Matt walk into the view in the Locker asking Gus what the hell he was doing, assuming Gus had completely broken down and he placed his arm around him, “It’s okay Gus.”
Veronica gasped, “Matt!”
Matt looked around just as Gus had and slowly said, “Veronica?”
Gus looked at Matt, “You hear her too—good. I thought I was going bloody mad.”
Veronica’s tears turned into a relief of laughter as she rushed toward the Locker, “Matt—Matthew it’s me I can see you and hear you, can you hear me?”
Matt and Gus were still confused as to how this was possible and Matt hesitantly responded, “Yes—we hear you, where the hell are you?”
As the true reality continued to set in and as Veronica continually realized that Matt was indeed alive, she began to cry again, this time for joy, “I love you Matt.”
Matt was taken by surprised twice, once at hearing Veronica’s voice thousands of miles away in Montana and then hearing her tell him she loved him. He was still looking around as he said in a distant and confused tone, “I—I love you too? How is it I can hear you? Where the bloody hell are you?”
Now that the shock and tears had subsided, the King stepped forward to reduce the confusion, “Lord Guiscard, It’s the King. We are contacting you through the means of a very ancient method we can explain to you later. You can only hear us but we can both hear and see you. It only works so long as the rain is falling so we had
best relay our business quickly since we cannot control the weather.”
Veronica stood watching Matt and she quietly gasped at Matt’s appearance. His face and clothing were still covered in blood from the battle the day before and the rain had made him appear even more abhorrent. The entire group—Matt, Gus, Ted, Jess, Shay and Hank had all ventured down the mountainside in the night to bury the General’s body and make sure it had not been desecrated by the U.S. soldiers. They had dug a grave in the north pasture with an oil lamp for light and they were just about to place the body in the ground when they were interrupted by the Rain Locker herald.
The King quickly got down to business, “Lord Guiscard, it is most urgent that we tell you we have reason to believe that Toprak’s general is in the United States looking for you—but by the looks of things, you may already know that.”
Gus got the King caught up on the most recent events in the United States and how Toprak seemed to be fighting with them instead of against them. The King insisted that Toprak could not be trusted under any circumstance no matter how sincere Horsa appeared to be. Gus verbally concurred but the King was not entirely convinced Gus agreed with him, “Gus, Horsa is a ruthless animal of destruction—YOU CAN NOT TRUST HIM!”
Gus just nodded, obviously distracted with the death of the General and his incongruous talk with Horsa a few hours ago around the campfire.
The King was frustrated but continued with his urgent agenda, “The Middle Eastern forces invaded Bulgaria last Wednesday—the assault on Europe has begun. Both Romania and Greece have joined with the Bulgarians but I don’t expect they will last out the month. The Middle Eastern army is massive with over a half million troops and equipment, with more joining them daily. Toprak officials deny it of course but I suspect they are the rear army who is pushing the vanguard forward.”
Matt stepped forward assuming control of the conversation, “So we have Toprak pushing the assault in Europe and parading to be the saviors in America? I think their plan is as plain as their name—they are capturing the world, and they are doing it all at once.”
The rain started to let-up in Montana and the communication began to break slightly causing the King to speak more quickly, “We need to get you all out of the U.S. as fast as possible before Toprak reveals their true plan which is to destroy the United States, not save it—at which point it will be too late. We have seen how they can totally displace and destroy nations in the Russian wars. I’m certain that is their plan for your country. I will be sending a private atmoscraft to Glacier Park International which is as close as I can get to where you are. How long will it take for you to reach that airport?”
Matt turned to Hank and waited for him to respond. Hank was not standing within the five foot circle so they could only hear Matt as if he were talking on a telephone, “How far away is Glacier International?”
“By car I would assume.”
“Horseback?”
“I see.”
Matt had figured out the direction of Veronica’s and the King’s voices and he turned to face them making it appear he was looking through the Locker, “Hank feels we could drive it inside four hours, twenty by horseback, riding overland. He thinks we might have trouble getting away from the Toprak army and that we’d have better chances at an escape by horseback—I think he is right. After all, we are their prisoners not their sovereign.”
The King was relieved to hear Matt’s clear thinking, “Well said Sir Matthew. I will send a transport straight-away. It should be there only a few hours after you arrive if you leave tonight.”
Just then a loud explosion shook the Seven Stars Pub and the King and Veronica looked at each other startled, “What was that?” said Matt.
The King walked over to the window and looked out cautiously, “We’re not sure but whatever it was it was very large and very close.”
They could hear sirens and panic in the street and Veronica turned to the King with a worried look, “Do you think we are in danger?”
The King was wise enough to be worried but not panicked, “I don’t know, but we had better get to safer ground.” He turned back to the Locker just as Moran began to groan and shake. He knew he couldn’t touch him whilst a herald was in process so he knelt down to look at his face and he could tell Moran was in terrible pain.
Just as he was about to close the locker door Moran began to speak, “Gus—Gus, my dear friend.”
Hearing Moran, Gus looked directly back through the locker with narrowed eyes, “General Clancy?” He then turned to look at the body of the General wrapped in the Indian blanket and then back through the Locker confused.
Moran was in terrible distress but continued to speak, “Don’t bury my body, leave it be—Skanicum—mortal renaissance… ”
The storm in Montana was quickly dissipating and the communication was breaking up fast making the communication mostly unintelligible as Gus struggled to understand, “Don’t bury your body—Skanicum—what?”
The communication was coming to an end and the King also determined that Moran couldn’t take much more of whatever was going on and he walked over to shut the locker doors as Veronica held one of them back looking at Matt. They both looked in each other’s eyes as the herald faded. Matt held up his hand as Veronica reached into the Locker and then pulled out her wet hand, placing it to her lips as the King shut the door.
Moran immediately collapsed, reeling in pain on the floor as his whole body quivered, “Will he be all right?” asked Veronica as the King stroked his head.
“I think so. A locker herald is always taxing but whatever happened there at the end—I’ve never seen him so convulsed.” The King lifted one of Moran’s eyelids and checked his pulse, “I think he will return to us shortly.”
Just then another explosion could be heard, this one not as close as the first and the King looked around nervously. He was noticeably upset by not knowing what was happening to his country. Moran stopped shaking and slowly resumed consciousness as the King and Veronica helped him get to the sofa.
“What happened?” asked the King as he got Moran a glass of scotch.
Moran’s speech was slurred at first but then became clearer as he spoke, “The corpse in Montana, the General as they called him intercepted the herald somehow and it seemed to rob me of all strength as he spoke. I had no control, it was as if I was completely possessed.” He paused and then continued, “But not in an evil way, not like demonic possession. It was completely overwhelming and—what the hell is Skanicum?”
The King shook his head, “I don’t know but for the record, William Cecil is not the only one who can reach into the past and speak to the dead. You are amazing Professor.”
Moran slowly pulled himself up taking a long drink of his scotch, “Maybe compared to some but I can’t imagine being in that state for a minute longer. To think Cecil did it for 20 some odd hours—I can’t imagine. He was the amazing one”
With the Locker shut, the rain outside stopped and the sky began to clear. The sun had long since set and the King was anxious to get back to the Palace to learn what was happening in the city. Veronica and the King helped Moran to his feet and they slowly made their way down the narrow stairway.
As they walked through the dark pub they could see their taxi through the windows still waiting for them and they made their way out the door and into the back seat. The King tapped on the glass to signal the driver to return to the Palace but there was no response. Moran leaned forward to get a better look in the front seat and though he couldn’t see much in the darkness, he knew something wasn’t right. He got out of the car and walked to the driver’s door and opened it.
The driver’s eyes were rolled back into his head with a glazed stare. Moran knew in an instant what was happening and he quickly pulled open the back door of the taxi, grabbed Veronica’s arm and began to pull her out, “Toprak harbinger, we’ve got to get out of here—NOW!”
They ran across the narrow street onto the grounds of the
Royal Courts complex when a menacing shadow of a very large man appeared before them, “Hello Veronica.”
They all froze not knowing how to respond or what direction they should run. The man reached out and took Veronica by the arm as the King stepped forward to challenge him. With one swing of his free arm, the King was knocked to the ground so decisively he lay there in surprise at the stranger’s strength, “Pardon me gentlemen. I don’t have business with you unless you intend to stop me from retrieving my lord’s property.”
It was obvious that the man did not recognize the King and it was certain that no one would suspect that the King would be wandering around London in the dark in the midst of so much chaos, but he also couldn’t just let this man take Veronica. The man turned and walked into the darkness as Veronica struggled violently, fighting for her freedom and screaming. The man reached out with the back of his hand and landed a blow across Veronica’s face knocking her immediately unconscious. Seeing Veronica—one of the King’s most beloved friends handled so cruelly, filled him with rage and he jumped to his feet and rushed at the dark figure but was met with a very large, closed fist which knocked him off his feet and he landed with a dead thud on the cold lawn.
It was obvious that their driver was a Toprak harbinger and that he had alerted Toprak when Veronica was away from the safety of Kensington Palace. They saw their opportunity and they acted immediately. Moran knew that Veronica was an important part of Hengist’s plan but he could never find out why. All he could do was watch the man carry Veronica over his shoulder into the darkness.