Isabella's Heiress

by N. P. Griffiths

  “Yeah, well maybe know they’ve got something else to talk about, they’ll give up on all the other crap.”

  “You’re you, Emma. You’re Emma Elliott, nobody else.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “You know what I mean, Em. It doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks, it’s what you think that matters. You’re the one that has to get through this no one else.”

  “You noticed did you?”

  “Look, Em, I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been, I really am. It’s just that…well…these things always seem to come so easily to you, just like when we were younger.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “You think this is easy? You think I just click my fingers and it all falls into place?”

  “No, it’s just that…oh you know what I mean.”

  “No, I really don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  Taryn paused. She looked up at Emma and for a second looked like she was going to bite back but instead she bit her lip.

  “All the years I had to follow you through school, the dumb blonde hanging on to the coattails of the school star. Do you know what that did to me? Have you any idea?”

  Emma didn’t know what to say. All the years they had spent at school together had been hell for her and had been made worse by watching Taryn glide along with swan-like grace. Now to hear her say that she had felt the exact same thing albeit for different reasons threw her. Even so, she wasn’t about to let Taryn off the hook that easily.

  “Don’t ask me to feel sorry for you. You weren’t short of admirers back then were you? I doubt you did a nights worth of homework in five years.”

  “That’s not fair, Emma. I tried but we can’t all be geniuses.”

  “Genius? Is that what you think I am? You think I was just born knowing all that crap they taught us, is that it? I studied hard, whilst you were out partying and for all of that I still end up in this shit hole!”

  Emma kicked out at the wall, leaving a mark in the lime render.

  “If I’d known I was going to end up dead at twenty seven, I would have partied my life away as well!”

  Taryn’s hands turned white at the knuckles. “I’m sorry if you didn’t have my looks or my legs but that’s not my fault is it! You had everything else though didn’t you? Everything went right the first time didn’t it? Straight A’s right from the start, nothing was too much for our Emma. You had the respect of everyone there, teachers and students. You think I didn’t hear everybody laughing behind my back at school!”

  Emma was about to respond when a forlorn toll filled the air. St Pauls was back and was calling time on another soul. Emma felt the pit of her stomach fall away. Outside the sky darkened and shadows started to draw in around the two women. Taryn walked up the stairs and stood next to her old friend. Together they stepped towards the window and looked out.

  There was an unnatural darkness closing in on the square. The peels of the bells cut through the air and with each ring Emma felt a shiver run down her spine.

  “Eedithh, wee have waited so long for this moment. Welcome to our family, Eedith.”

  Gentle Men were gathering outside of the gate and were looking restless. Emma felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. There were six of them, all drifting outside in the square as it glowed a deep red, the plants and trees in the centre now nothing more than burnt stems and blackened stumps.

  The door below them opened and Father Eamon appeared.

  “Emma, Taryn, step away from the window. This is something you do not need to see.”

  Emma felt a slight pang of guilt for the things she had said earlier and stepped back as behind Father Eamon a commotion was building. Sobs and whimpers mixed with a rumble of feet. Father Eamon stepped to one side as a torrent of people flooded through the door, knocking Emma and Taryn against the wall as the stampede headed upstairs. Emma used this confusion to rush down past Father Eamon with Taryn following. Father Eamon turned to race after her but couldn’t stop her before she entered the main hall.

  “What’s going on, why are the people running away?”

  “Do you remember the woman you met on the stairs on your first morning here?”

  Emma thought back, it seemed a long time ago now but she knew who he meant.

  “Well her time here has come to an end.”

  “And that’s it, is it, you just let her go?” The desperation rose in Emma as she thought of the elderly lady who had hurried passed her on the stairs.

  Father Eamon sighed. “Come with me, both of you, I want you to see what happens when you fail your task.”

  He led them back into the main hall and walked over to a darkened corner where they could watch the unfolding events without being observed.

  Emma could hear the whimpers of initiates who were still sitting on the benches, too scared to move whilst on the other side of the hall an elderly woman sat pleading to a guide who for his part tried to comfort her even though there was no comfort to be given.

  The door at the far end swung open and two men came through. They were dressed in breeches, waistcoats and cravats and as they walked towards the old woman, dust jumped off their clothes with every step.

  The woman tried to climb the benches behind her in an effort to escape but fear had got the better of her and her legs gave way, leaving her prone and clinging to the wooden boards below.

  “Resurrectionists. God curse those grave robbers.” Father Eamon’s face was hidden behind a dark mask of contempt.

  “Who?” Emma saw Father Eamon’s look and shivered. For the first time, the side of him that people had spoken of showed itself. His normal reserved empathy was replaced by a black, pitiless aura.

  Father Eamon responded without looking at Emma. “Resurrectionists. They stole bodies from consecrated ground to sell to medical schools.”

  Emma grimaced, “You mean Burke and Hare?”

  “No, they were in Edinburgh. These two are called James May and John Bishop. These two weren’t just content with grave robbing. It would appear they realised that they could make more money if the corpses were a little fresher.”

  Emma wrinkled her nose as she caught on to what Father Eamon meant.

  They had reached Edith now and were tugging at her legs. Edith made a last desperate lunge for the guide at her side; he grabbed her arm and made a half-hearted attempt to stop her from being dragged away.

  “Father McAvoy, Leave her be! You know the balance must be kept!” Father Eamon’s voice was strained and his breathing laboured. Emma watched she he struggled to keep himself under control.

  The guide reluctantly let his grip loosen and the woman’s whimper’s rose up to a scream as she was unceremoniously pulled along the dusty floor, leaving drag marks as she went. The main door opened and the temperature rose as the roar of the superheated wind found a new route in.

  Edith was begging and crying in the same breath but her words were drowned out by her choking sobs. Emma felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched this elderly lady dragged out to her waiting tormentors. She didn’t know what had caused her to be here but looking at her now, pathetically trying to grab hold of anything that might stave off the inevitable, she didn’t care. Nothing about this seemed fair and she wanted to beg Father Eamon to step in but she already knew that he couldn’t do anything.

  Emma wiped away her tears, knowing that Taryn would be doing the same thing behind her. The two men were halfway out the door now and the elderly lady had given up resisting, all her energy spent. After a few seconds, they disappeared in to the garden and Emma turned and ran up the stairs. Half way up, she stopped and looked out onto the scene below her. The gates of the sanctuary had opened and the Gentle Men were waiting by them. Bishop and May delivered their cargo without saying a word and turned to head back.

  The woman’s screams reached a crescendo as rotting hands reached for her, levitating her in to the air. Whispered words spoken by the Gentle Men to Edith
carried to where Emma stood but she could make no sense of them. Instead all she could do was watch helplessly as they carried her into an encroaching mist, her wails and sobs becoming more distant.

  Just as she thought they were gone, one of the Gentle Men turned and limped slowly back towards the gate.

  “Ehmma, ssoon this will bhee you. Wee will come for you when yhou too have failed.”

  It turned and headed into the mist leaving the words to hang in the air.

  “Don’t worry,” whispered Emma “I won’t be hiding.”

  The mist disappeared into the air, leaving behind it nothing but silence.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Trip To Newgate

  The knock on the door that woke Emma the following morning made her heart sink. She had been lying in bed, lost in thought, following a night of broken sleep.

  If what Rodolfo said was true, why have I never seen anything in the history books? Why have there never been any documentaries on TV?

  Surely something as big as this couldn’t have been covered up? Her dreams had been full of images of home, Taryn and soldiers fighting in a bloody field. Now, as she got out of bed and put on a dressing gown, they had receded into the darkness along with the last of the night, the warmth of the carpet pile between her toes taking their place.

  Emma walked up to the door and it opened to reveal Father Eamon standing on the other side. For the first time, she thought she saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

  “Morning, Emma, may I come in?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Emma gave him a tired look as she shuffled back in to her bedroom, the sleep clinging to her eyes.

  “When you are ready I think we should talk about what happened yesterday.”

  “Fair enough. Let me splash some water on my face.”

  Emma disappeared in to the bathroom, leaving Father Eamon to sit on the chair by the desk. After a couple of minutes, she came out and sat on the side of the bed, her hair dripping water on to the quilt.

  “So have you come to read me the riot act?”

  “No, not at all. I can understand your reaction to everything you heard but what you have been told is only half the truth. Personally I feel that this is something you should have been spared whilst you were here but events seem to have conspired against me.”

  Father Eamon leant forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Emma, would you tell me what this man said to you the other night?”

  Emma hesitated for a second before relaying the details of the meeting with Rodolfo. Father Eamon listened intently, waiting for her to finish before responding.

  “This man has only been partly honest with you. Everything he says is true and I must concede that the final part of the prophesy was known to only a few people but he has not spoken of the reasons behind what happened.”

  Emma shrugged, “He said that the two families were threatened by each other’s interests in Europe.”

  “That is partly true but their commercial interests were a façade for their real aims. The Calabria’s worked for the church as well as the Cordoban Council. They helped advance the churches aims. This was helped by the fact that a lot of their work took place in areas that the church didn’t want to be seen in.

  “The Robillard’s were a family that rose to power through the French court. Their power was second only to the Bourbon’s and some said it surpassed even that. They preferred to do their work privately, away from prying eyes. They specialised in playing one side off against another and profiting in the chaos that ensued.

  “Eventually these two worlds collided in Istanbul where the Calabria’s emissary was murdered. This set into play a series of events that culminated in the battle of Dresden.”

  Emma listened to what Father Eamon had to say but still her earlier doubts refused to be silenced. “I don’t understand. If all this is true, why haven’t I heard any of this?”

  “‘Tis not surprising, this all happened so long ago. In the case of the Calabria’s, it was impossible to remain unknown in a place such as Siena when you are as wealthy as they were but so long as their true mission was never uncovered, the church was happy for them to carry on making money for their own interests as well. The Robillard’s were far more secretive and didn’t socialise. They were known well to only a very few as they did their work through intermediaries.

  “After a while, Guglielmo Calabria tired of the churches double standards. The selling of plenary indulgences, the ruthless purging of church critics along with the constant hypocrisy of senior clergy. All this became too much and he decided to stop the work that his family had done for generations.

  “This caused the church to come down hard. They excommunicated the family and took all their lands but all this did was make the family more popular with the people of the street and countryside. On top of that the church had not reckoned with the business savvy of Guglielmo or for that matter, his ancestors’. They may have taken all his land but land can be bought and the family had placed money in many Florentine banks. Try what they might, the church had no way of getting their hands on it, as over time, the money had accumulated to a vast sum and the bankers were in no hurry to lose it.

  “This left a vacuum that needed to be filled. Rome needed somebody to do their dirty work for them, to go where they couldn’t, so they turned to the Robillard’s. Over time the family had been ingratiating themselves by donating large sums of money to the church and now they were to see a return on their investments.

  “They took over the position previously occupied by the Calabria’s and, to start of with, did the churches less publicised work in places like England and other areas where the Catholic faith wasn’t recognised.

  “However, after a few years it became obvious that they were doing more than that. Under the guidance of the Cado Angelus, they were setting themselves up as an alternative to the church but not in the way that Martin Luther or John Calvin did. They started to form secret societies around Europe, whose express aim was to prepare for the downfall of Christendom.

  “The church got wind of this and managed to capture some of the Robillard’s messengers. They were handed over to the inquisition and it wasn’t long before they told everything they knew. It wasn’t the entire story but it was enough for Rome to start further inquiries. When they realised the extent to which the Robillard’s had corrupted priests and noblemen, they panicked. In their turmoil they turned to the only people who could help them. The Calabria’s. It was no coincidence that the Robillard’s messengers had been rebuffed in the Sienese Republic. This was the Calabria’s land and people owed allegiance first to God and then to them. They were a rarity for the time, a family that was genuinely loved by the people. They looked after them, educated their children and ensured that commerce and trade was unaffected by the many vagaries which could strike a medieval state.

  “Emissaries were sent, requesting Guglielmo’s presence in Rome. Even after all that they had put his family through, he accepted and headed south. When he arrived, he was shocked to find a church in crisis. They were being attacked on all sides by a strident enemy that did not fear the Pope’s authority, temporal or otherwise. He agreed to come back to the church and immediately set to finding out the true size of the plot.

  The Robillard’s set their plans in motion. Landowners withheld money whilst priests who refused to comply with their demands were murdered, often in the most gruesome manner, as an example to others who would follow their path.

  “After a while Guglielmo managed to slow them down, by both force of arms and more underhand methods but all he could do was play for time. He tried to pull in the other states to his side, but the Robillard’s were expert in deception and knew the weaknesses of men only too well. Guglielmo had to work on their better nature and that was a huge task. In the end war was inevitable and when it came, it lasted for thirty years until the day that Isabella disappeared. Since then, there has been an uneasy peace between the two sides. Nothing has happened to dis
turb that until recently. Messengers have been seen in cities abroad and then there is you. We are not the only ones that are aware of the prophesy, the fight still continues even in this plane. The struggle for the souls of mankind continues to this day.”

  Emma looked at Father Eamon, her eyes narrowing,“But if they went to war like you say they did, how come I’ve never come across it when I was at school or university.”

  “What do you know of the Thirty Year War?”

  Emma thought back to Rodolfo asking her the same question. “Nothing, but I’m guessing it lasted thirty years?”

  Emma’s attempt at humour was met with a wry smile from Father Eamon. “You would be correct. It was a period when the European states from England to Italy tore themselves apart.”

  Emma frowned. Whilst her history was poor, she knew that England had never been involved in a war that lasted thirty years.

  Father Eamon saw the look on Emma’s face and understood. “You can’t remember England being involved in a thirty year war? That’s not surprising; they weren’t, at least not directly. The Thirty Year War took place between 1618 and 1648. The first English Civil War took place between 1642 and 1646.”

  “What do you mean first civil war? You’re telling me there was more than one?”

  “There were three. The second took place between 1648 and 1649 and the third between 1649-1651.”

  “Oh, right.” Emma wasn’t convinced. She leant back against the wall as she tried to take it all in. “And I’m supposed to be the reincarnation of some woman killed back then? Nice.”

  “Not just some woman. Isabella was the eldest child of Guglielmo Calabria and anointed from birth to lead her people but she rebelled against it. It would appear that she wasn’t too keen on being shackled with that burden and it was only on the death of her mother that she took up her place by her father’s side. There were those who thought her younger brother Allesandro should have taken that position, a woman in their eyes being no substitute when it came to leadership, and there were many plots against her which were ruthlessly exposed and put down.”