Isabella's Heiress

by N. P. Griffiths

  Rodolfo’s eyebrows rose for a second. “It was a most brutal affair. A war fought between the Catholic and Protestant faiths. There was no quarter given by either side and, as per usual, it was the peasants of the land who suffered most.

  “The whole truth of that affair has never been known by the people in your old world. The two families did indeed make their fortunes from earthly pursuits but their influence came from their patrons in this plane as much as it did from their money and success.

  “The Calabria’s had for many years been the Cordoban Council’s envoys on Earth. For generations they benefited from this in the good fortune their business had. In return they knew that one day, in a time of crisis, they would be required to do their masters bidding.

  “That day came after the murder of their emissary in Istanbul. The Cordoban Council have an enemy in the Cado Angelus who will stop at nothing to reign over all those who inhabit your former world. They seek dominion where the Cordoban Council seek only to watch and let mankind makes their own mistakes.

  “They have been bitter enemies for many millennia but always they have sought to influence mankind through persuasion. Each relying on their view of human nature winning out.

  “That was until the Cado Angelus became impatient. When it became clear that the Calabria’s emissary was winning the day, it looked like being one setback too many for the Cado Angelus. They sought to have him killed, setting off the events of which I have spoken.”

  Emma looked at Rodolfo, still unconvinced. “That’s all very interesting but I still don’t see why I’m getting all this attention because of something that happened four hundred years ago.”

  “And it would have nothing to do with you were it not for a decision that Isabella Calabria made one summers day. She had grown restless and left to join her father’s forces in Germany. It should not surprise you to learn that she failed to mention her plans to her father. By the time he became aware of them she was long gone.

  “He sent word to his commanders to send her back but after she refused to go, an agreement was made between father and daughter. That agreement was that she would act as personal assistant to his top field commander.

  “If he thought that this would stop Isabella from searching for a more, how should I say, demanding role, then he was to be disappointed. Through her force of character Isabella proved herself to be the equal of any man. After two years, she was leading the charge on the field. It was all her father’s friends could do to hold her back. Slowly her status amongst the men around her went from talismanic to legendary. It was as if nothing could touch her.

  “It was at this point that everything changed. It is also the reason why you are getting all the attention. One afternoon, outside Dresden, the two forces met in battle after a campaign that had been unusually bloody. It was known that both sides were nearly spent and that whoever won this engagement would win the war.

  “The day was one of ebb and flow with both sides taking then losing the initiative. Eventually the Robillards forces started to force the issue and took ground from the Calabrian army. Isabella rallied the troops but fatigue had set in and there was a real danger of a rout. One final push was made against the Robillards and it seemed for a moment like there would be stalemate but there was a collapse in the Calabrian ranks.

  “As the light waned there was a terrific crash of thunder followed by a brilliant light. A cry went up for her. It was not one of grief for a fallen comrade but one of fear and it came from everywhere. However there were massive forces on both sides and it took a long time for the call to work its way through the massed ranks. Isabella had disappeared.

  “Both armies left the field in disarray with neither sure what to do next. Stories started to go round the camps. Some said she was taken in that flash of bright light, others said that she was swallowed up by the ground and still others said that she had been carried away by angels. What could not be denied though was that Isabella was no longer on the field and no matter where they looked; her forces could not find her. Her commanders were struck down by indecision as to what to do next and feared that the rising of the sun would be their last, but something happened the following morning, something that to this day remains a mystery.

  “As the armies took to the field, an emissary came over from the other side under a flag of parley. He handed across a scroll and left. The scroll was taken to the commander and they read it in amazement. The robillard’s wanted to have a truce. The commanders were sure this was a trick. Their men were rattled by the loss of Isabella and had lost heart. The forces of darkness must have known this yet they were willing to give up when victory was in their grasp.

  “A meeting took place in the field and an uneasy truce was agreed that day. The armies fell back and to this day it has held.

  “After the truce, Guglielmo Calabria left the day to day affairs of his business to his family whilst he spent massive sums of money trying to find his daughter. In the process, agents were sent abroad to find out what they could. Eventually one brought back news of a meeting in the tents of the Robillard’s generals that took place after Isabella’s disappearance. It involved mystics who supposedly told the future. As soon as this meeting was over, General Therriault, the head of the Robillard army, came out of the tent ashen-faced. He dispatched his emissary to the Calabrian camp and the truce was enacted.

  “Guglielmo Calabria tried to find out more about this meeting but could get nothing more on it as all the mystics and the general himself were killed within days of the truce. Eventually he died a broken man, his only wish being to be re-united with his daughter.

  “The day after his death in 1649 a nun in a convent in Sondrio in northern Italy collapsed and started talking in tongues. When they finally managed to translate what she was saying, they realised that it was a prophesy foretelling the return of Isabella. The manuscript was rushed down to Siena where it is hidden to this day.”

  Emma waited for him to continue but Rodolfo seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

  “Well, don’t stop there, what did it say?”

  Rodolfo seemed a little uneasy as he searched for his next words.

  “It is said that Isabella had been taken as mankind had yet to earn the right for victory and that she would only come back when that changed.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “There is more.” Rodolfo admitted reluctantly. “It gave signs for when she returned.”

  “Which were?” Emma was starting to feel exasperated at Rodolfo’s sudden attack of reticence.

  “That she would return as an initiate and she would come back to us on the annus novus.”

  “Annus what?”

  “New year.”

  Emma thought about this for a second before breaking out in a wreath of smiles, “Well there you go. I was killed on the 21st of December, that’s nine days before the New Year. There’s no way I can be this reincarnation everybody’s talking about.”

  Rodolfo looked at Emma in what she could only take as a half-pitying look. “That may be the start of the calendar New Year but it is only that, a date. The prophesy was written at a time when many people judged the New Year to have started only when the sun stopped waning in the sky. A time when it would rise anew and start its slow ascension back up into the heavens.”

  “Hang on, you’re telling me that the New Year doesn’t start on January the 1st?”

  “Not if you go by the solstices.”

  “Well when does it start then?”

  “It depends on when the solstice takes place, but somewhere between the 20th and 21st of December. Last year it fell on the 21st.”

  “And that’s it? You’re telling me that I’ve been hearing all this crap on the basis that I died on the solstice? Maybe I should have taken the day off sick and got run over the next morning that would have saved a lot of people a lot of time.”

  Rodolfo smiled, “But you didn’t, did you?”

  “Maybe not, but I can’t have be
en the only one who died that day.”

  “You weren’t but there were other portents.”

  Emma didn’t like the way this was playing out and waited for whatever was coming next.

  “You could be her twin, the two of you are so alike and it was always said that she would return in the north.”

  Emma thought about what he said and then remembered something from a few days earlier. The words tripped over each other in her hurry to get them out.

  “When you spoke to Sister Ignacia you said that you had only seen portraits. How would you know if we looked so similar when all you have to go by are dodgy paintings?”

  “Just like Isabella, feisty and not afraid to confront. I lied to Sister Ignacia. It should be obvious to you by now I am not the same man that you met before.”

  Emma was thrown by his response and watched his eyes to see what they told her.

  “I know that you just admitted to lying to Sister Ignacia. How do I know that you’re not lying to me now?”

  “You don’t, but ask Father Eamon if you don’t believe me. He is your guide isn’t he? Haven’t you ever stopped to ask yourself why it is you get the Cordoban Council’s most senior investigator as your guide? A man who hasn’t been seen in the Twilight plane for centuries yet is instantly recognisable to many who are condemned to stay here?”

  Emma struggled to find the words to respond. It was something she hadn’t wanted to think about before, even though it had niggled at her. Now that the question had been raised, she realised that she didn’t have an answer for it.

  “It was because he was available when I crossed over.”

  Rodolfo laughed out loud at this. “He was available? Oh, my dear child that is like saying a crown prince was available when a village needed a new mayor. He is a legend in this world, a man who is feared by all those who would oppose the Council. He is only sent on matters of the most sensitive and urgent nature. Believe me when I say, he would not trouble himself with the job of guiding an initiate unless there were other reasons for it.”

  Rodolfo’s eyes betrayed nothing to Emma but she could feel the truth in his words. The deference which Father Eamon received from the other guides, the reaction he got when he walked out in to street, all this fitted with what she was hearing.

  “Can you still not work out why he has been sent?”

  The words were left hanging in the air. Emma didn’t feel the urge to respond.

  “It is to see if you are who they think you are. They think they might have actually found Isabella. You aren’t the first to have come through that looked like they may have been the one, but you are the first to have so completely fitted the prophesy. This is certainly the first time someone of Eamon’s seniority has been sent. Normally they would have sent someone far more junior. That can only mean one thing, you must fit the final part of the prophesy in some way.”

  Emma frowned, wincing slightly as sweat dripped into her right eye.

  “What do you mean, I fit the final part of the prophesy? What final part?”

  “That I shall leave to Father Eamon, he has after all been sent to disprove it, to confirm that you are not the one they all think you might be.”

  Emma felt like she had been slapped in the face and had to suck in air. She looked down at the ground and ran her hands through her filthy hair.

  “What do you mean…?”

  Rodolfo had gone. In his place Emma could see what passed in this world for a sunrise. She had spent the entire night here and now, in the cold of the twilight, the world seemed an even more hostile place than it had twenty four hours ago.

  She watched as shadows extended their uneven, jagged fingers through exposed window frames and teetering walls until slowly she got herself together and tried to collect her thoughts. All she could think was that she had been lied to by Father Eamon. She also knew that Rodolfo could be lying but it all seemed to fit and try as she might, she felt like he was telling the truth.

  Emma left the shattered remnants of the building she had spent the night in and headed back to the sanctuary. She walked through deserted streets, oblivious to everything around her, until she reached the sanctuary gates. They opened and she walked through into the garden. The few people that were there looked up and stared at the dishevelled character that shuffled past them.

  The door to the sanctuary was open and Emma walked in. She saw Father Eamon with his back to her in conversation with Sister Ignacia. Sister Ignacia looked up and the shadows on her face disappeared. She came rushing over, her eyes filled with concern.

  “Emma! Oh gracias a dios! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

  Emma ignored her and headed towards Father Eamon. He was walking towards her, the relief on his face palpable. Emma would have taken this as genuine concern for her well being but now she couldn’t be sure what Father Eamon’s motives were and it hurt that he may have betrayed her.

  All the way back to the sanctuary, she had played this scene through her head. How would she approach him? Give him a chance to explain everything? He had earnt that right, hadn’t he? But now, as she stood there, her emotions started to bubble over. She struggled to keep them in check, her breathing laboured and her arms shaking.

  “Emma, what happened last night?” Father Eamon’s words were measured but for once his emotions were starting to show through. The strain of the last few hours showed in his voice and his hair was unusually dishevelled.

  Emma sat down and looked straight ahead. She was aware of people looking at her. Other initiates shot her sidelong glances or just stared at her outright but she didn’t care, she just sat there oblivious to everything going on around her.

  Father Eamon sat next to her but as he reached out, she drew away from his arm.

  “Emma, where did you stay last night?”

  “Who’s Rodolfo?” The question just came out and it seemed to throw Father Eamon for a second.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I met someone last night. An old man who said his name was Rodolfo. He saved me from a Gentle Man after I forgot the time. I spent the night with him.”

  Emma looked up to see Father Eamon leaning back. Her question had not been what he expected and he was searching for a response.

  “There was a man, a long time ago, before my time, called Rodolfo. He was the personal tutor to Isabella Calabria. He taught her from a child and was at the battle of Dresden when she disappeared. He disappeared himself not long after the death of her father. Nothing has been heard of him since.”

  “Well the man who I spoke to last night seemed to know an awful lot about all of that.”

  “He may have done but that is not to say he is Rodolfo. Remember what I said before to you, not everything is as it seems.”

  Emma allowed herself an ironic smile as he said this. “No, I understand but he did say something else that was interesting.”

  “What was that?”

  “He said that you had been sent to confirm whether I was this Isabella or not. He said that your main concern was this and not whether I should survive. He also said that I should ask you about the final part of the prophesy.”

  Father Eamon closed his eyes and breathed out hard.

  “Emma, whoever this man is, he has woven a web of half-truths. It is true to say that I have more than one duty when it comes to you but do not think for a second that your salvation is not my first concern.”

  “What about the final part of the prophesy?”

  Father Eamon paused before responding. “Isabella had a younger sister, Alicia. She was killed in a riding accident when Isabella cut across her by a river. Alicia fell and was dragged away by the current. She was found some way downstream. Her dress stopped her from escaping and she drowned. Isabella never forgave herself. The last part of the prophesy states that someone will come who will feel her pain.”

  Emma didn’t know what to say, she could feel the anger and resentment building up in her all over again and this time she
wasn’t in the mood to suppress it.

  “Are you telling me I’m still being punished for what happened to Lisa?” Emma’s voice rose as she gave vent to her feelings. “What makes you think I want any part of this Isabella rubbish even if it was true? In fact I’ll save you a job. I’m not Isabella, I never was Isabella and I never will be! You lied to me, you said you were here to help me and now I find out that all you want is some sort of Joan of Arc for god only knows what!”

  Tears streamed down Emma’s face and she got up and stormed towards the stairway door.

  Father Eamon called after her but she ignored him and headed to her room, blinking away the tears as she went.

  Emma sat on the stairwell, looking out at the strips of light moving through their gentle arcs. From here she could see the flames dancing over the docks in the East End, reaching for a sky, which swallowed them into its blackness. She felt a strange dislocation from what she could see. The glass banished any sound from outside until all she was left with was a picture of destruction. She was still shaking after her argument with Father Eamon. Why did this have to happen to her? Wasn’t it punishment enough to be here? All this stuff about being someone else wasn’t fair.

  Her train of thought was interrupted by a scraping noise as the door below her opened. Taryn stood there looking up at where Emma sat. She looked hesitant, unsure as to how to proceed.

  “Hi.”

  Emma ignored her, concentrating instead on the scene outside.

  “Emma, I’m sorry about how I’ve been. It’s just that things have been difficult recently. You understand don’t you?”

  Emma brought her knees up to her chest. “You think it’s just difficult for you? Try having everyone looking at you like you’re someone else.”

  “I know, it’s all people talk about but they don’t know you like I do.”

  “It’s a pity you didn’t think about that before you stormed off.”

  “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry about that.” There was regret in Taryn’s voice and as Emma looked up, she turned her gaze down, embarrassed by her actions. “Everybody’s talking about your argument.”