by H. R. Moore
Helena bowed her head when she reached the centre, facing the audience but not looking at them directly. She paused there for several moments before lifting her head to reveal her deep green eyes. She raised her arms out and upwards, her cloak fanning out as she did so, making her a striking figure at the front of the Temple. The congregation held their breath. You could hear a pin drop, the anticipation almost palpable.
In a low, controlled, powerful, rich voice that instantly commanded the attention of everyone who heard it, she began. ‘In the beginning, there were three Gods, Theseus of the Mind, Tatiana of the Body and Jeremiah of the Spirit. The three Gods created three worlds, each with a mix of the three God’s unique skills. In each world they created people, who lived to serve the Gods, and in return the Gods would keep the energy stable, so resources would be plentiful. The people built Temples to thank the Gods for their generosity and worshiped the God to whom they belonged. For hundreds of years the people of this world lived like this in harmony, serving the Gods and living with all the food and wealth they required, until in the year 769, the Gods decided it was time to make a change. In that year, they sent three people to the world to rule for them, Janus for Theseus, God of the Mind, Georgiana for Tatiana, Goddess of the Body and Julius for Jeremiah, God of the Spirit. Each was known as a Descendant of the God that had sent them and each would pass their Descendancy down to their children, Janus and Julius through male heirs and Georgiana through her female heirs. It was the job of the Descendants to rule the world for the Gods, ensuring energy harmony and plentiful resources. The people showed great respect for those who had been sent to lead them and there was harmony for over two hundred years, until at the turn of the century, the Gods decided to make another change; they sent the relic. With the relic came a prophecy, that one day the Descendants would send the relic back, and this act would free the world. The energy would be stable and the people could rule as they pleased, free to choose their own leaders. The relic brought great hope, yet great disruption. The world’s energy has been volatile ever since and we live in hope with each generation of Descendants that they will be the ones to free the world.’
Helena was joined at the altar by another Councillor, this time one that Anita did not recognise, from the Temple of the Spirit. He was a short, portly man who had the look about him of someone who had enjoyed one too many long lunches and a great deal too many cigars. He too faced the congregation, standing directly behind Alexander, Helena moving to stand behind Peter. ‘Children of the Temples,’ he started in a voice that conveyed far more authority than his stature suggested, ‘we have heard the history and the prophecy and it is now time for our Descendants to begin their journey to rule.’ He paused and raised his arms as Helena had done earlier. ‘Alexander, son of Anthony, of the Temple of the Spirit, do you promise to uphold the quest for energy balance, to seek, before anything else to fulfil the prophecy, and to rule according to the wishes of Jeremiah, God of the Spirit?’
‘I promise,’ Alexander’s unwaveringly steady reply floated through the Temple. Anita’s energy rose at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t really even notice, she was too busy gazing at Alexander’s god-like form. He looked every inch the confident ruler, a tad dishevelled perhaps, but only in a way that seemed to enhance his right to reign. By the time Anita wrestled her attention back to the proceedings, Helena had started talking.
‘Peter, son of Christiana, of the Temple of the Body, do you promise to uphold the quest for energy balance, to seek, before anything else to fulfil the prophecy, and to rule according to the wishes of Tatiana, Goddess of the Body?’
‘I promise,’ answered Peter in a confident, clear enough voice, but that somehow hinted at nerves. Whereas Alexander had conveyed a sense that he was meant to be exactly where he was, it was almost as if Peter wasn’t quite sure. Then again, he may be the one to break the prophecy entirely, so he’s probably at least a little bit worried about being mobbed on his way out, let alone about ruling, Anita chuckled inwardly.
‘The Descendants will now privately perform the next stage of the ceremony in the sacred place below the Temples,’ the male Councillor’s voice rang out, ‘they will return shortly.’ Alexander, Peter, Gwyn, Marcus and Austin all got up and approached the circle in the floor in the centre of the Temple. Anita didn’t know where to look, both Marcus and Alexander were walking directly towards her and both seemed to be looking directly at her. Her energy was sky high again, so she concentrated on trying to get that under control, trying desperately to tear her eyes away from them. She failed on both counts obviously, succeeding only in making herself look a bit awkward. As they descended the steps, through what was now a hole in the floor, both Alexander and Marcus smiled. Marcus, presumably because he thought he alone was having this effect on her, she made a mental note to firmly put him back in his place later, but a great deal more embarrassingly, Alexander, whose smirk was doubtless because he could feel her ridiculous energy. Both reactions made Anita cross, which meant that Cordelia had a rough fifteen minutes trying to make conversation whilst they waited for the Descendants to return. Cordelia gave up after a few attempts and resigned herself to listen to the music that was once again filling the Temple.
Almost exactly fifteen minutes later, the party of Descendants returned. Austin looked a bit put out, but the rest of them seemed to be in high spirits as they made their way back to the altar. This time, instead of sitting in front of the altar, Alexander sat in the front row with the other Descendants. His throne had been moved out of the way so that Peter’s actual Crowning could take place and Helena was once again directing proceedings. Peter was now sitting alone, all eyes on him.
‘Peter, son of Christiana, I summon you to the altar of your Goddess to make public your allegiance to your ruler.’
Peter stood up a little too quickly and made his way to the altar where he knelt, arms open, looking up towards the ceiling, ‘I Peter, son of Christiana, of the Temple of the Body, declare myself at the disposal of my ruler, the Goddess Tatiana.’
Helena, who seemed to have conjured up a crown from out of nowhere, stepped in front of Peter and held the simple gold band above his head. ‘I Helena, Councillor of the Temple of the Body and servant of the Goddess Tatiana, crown you Peter, son of Christiana, of the Temple of the Body. May you be always guided by the Gods, as you seek to free the world.’ Helena slowly lowered the crown onto Peter’s head. Remarkably it fit, which seemed slightly strange given that it was a crown made for a female head. They can’t possibly have resized it, thought Anita, that must surely be against the rules. Helena removed her hands from Peter’s head with poise and backed away a couple of steps as a fanfare flooded the Temple. Peter stood up, looked at Helena, who gave him an uncharacteristically reassuring nod and stiffly turned around to face back down the Temple. As he did so, the congregation begrudgingly bowed to him. Peter paused, seemingly unsure about what to do next, when Austin rose from where he was sitting and made towards the aisle. This seemed to galvanise him, as he hastily started the procession back out of the Temple and into the sunlight beyond. He was followed by the rest of the Descendants, along with the Body and Spirit Councillors that had processed in earlier. Anita was very pleased with herself for this time managing to avoid looking at either Alexander or Marcus.
The procession immediately turned to head towards the Spirit Temple where the same ceremony would take place for Alexander. Unfortunately the Spirit Temple was full of Spirits, which meant that Anita and Cordelia had to stand outside at the back. Anita managed to scale one of the pillars, which gave her a pretty good vantage point from which to view Alexander’s majestic performance at the altar. When he turned to make his way back down the aisle, there was no hesitation, he confidently strode out of the Temple and through the cheering crowd. He shot Anita a quick glance as he approached the pillar where she was perched, internally remarking at how she had managed to get up there at all. This time, it was Anita’s turn to feel Alexander’s energy
rise at seeing her, which improved her mood significantly. She was really quite jovial by the time she dropped back down to where Cordelia was waiting for her.
*****
By the time Anita and Cordelia got home, Cleo had set up shop in the sitting room. She seemed to have brought with her what looked like a chest full of some kind of ancient torture devices and immediately set about beautifying Anita. It was 4 o’clock by the time Anita was allowed a break, and only then because Cordelia appeared with some sandwiches and a carrot and ginger cake. At 4.30pm, the hairdresser and make-up artist arrived and set to work on Cleo. Harry was picking her up at 6.30pm, as everyone who wasn’t going with a Descendant had to be in place and ready by 7.00pm for the Descendants’ procession at 7.30pm. Seeing as Cleo was going with a Councillor’s son, she didn’t feel this was an occasion to be late.
Once they had finished with Cleo, she looked extraordinary. Her hair was in a loose up do, several delicate plaits interwoven with her normal silky locks in a way that accentuated her spectacular cheek bones, her eyelids a shimmering palette of bronze and gold. ‘Wow Cleo, you look amazing,’ said Anita. ‘I mean you always look great, obviously, but you’ve somehow reached a whole new level.’
‘Thanks,’ Cleo laughed, ‘but just wait until you see the dress!’ she said animatedly, practically running upstairs to get changed.
Whilst Cleo dressed herself, the hairdresser and makeup artist began on Anita, building her up do around her mother’s gold and diamond tiara. The results, even Anita had to admit, were pretty good. They’d somehow managed to make her look imperial, yet soft and approachable and her makeup was understated, yet somehow striking. Anita was admiring their handy work in the mirror when Cleo re-entered the room. ‘Bloody hell Cleopatra,’ Anita blurted out. Cleo was a vision in a floor length, golden, shimmering, figure accentuating, sleeveless, refined dress, with a low v at the front. It fitted her magnificently and gave her a flirty but classy and sophisticated air. She had simple, sky high gold sandals on her feet, which of course she moved in effortlessly.
‘Stop staring and go and put on your dress,’ chastised Cleo, clearly pleased at Anita’s reaction.
Anita went up the narrow stairway to her cramped room, where she slipped on her flowing red dress. She grinned as she zipped herself up and did a quick twirl to feel the fabric pouring around her legs. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. She slipped on her ridiculous black sandals before returning downstairs. As she entered the room, she got a gaggle of approving comments and her face cracked into a broad smile. She and Cleo thanked the hairdresser and makeup artist profusely as they left. ‘Can you believe I’m actually looking forward to this?’ Anita laughed to Cleo when they had gone.
‘By the Gods, if we can get you to look forward to a ball, then there is nothing we can’t do!’ giggled Cleo. Cordelia, who had just got back from walking Thorn, entered the room.
‘Ha! Did she just say she was looking forward to this? It’s amazing what a bit of makeup and a pretty dress will do for you! You both look beautiful by the way,’ she said, as there was a knock on the front door.
‘Thanks,’ they both said at once, giving independent twirls and laughing as they did it, feeling a lot like little girls in party dresses.
‘That will be for me,’ Cleo squealed, giving Anita an excited half hug and rushing to the door, pausing for a moment as she got there to regain her composure, before swinging it open. ‘See you later!’ she called over her shoulder, gliding through the door and saying, ‘hello Henry,’ in her most sassy voice.
Anita and Cordelia could just about make out Henry’s stuttering, ‘hello,’ as Cleo closed the door behind her.
‘Poor thing has no idea what he’s got himself into,’ Anita joked.
‘Indeed,’ Cordelia laughed back, ‘she always was determined that one.’
‘That’s an understatement if ever I’ve heard one,’ sniggered Anita, ‘but if he can’t even manage to say hello, I’m not convinced he will last the night!’
Five minutes later, Cordelia tactfully removed herself so she wouldn’t be lingering when Marcus arrived, saying, ‘I’m off to sit by the stream for a while. You look lovely Anita and I hope you have a wonderful time.’ Cordelia gave Anita a brief hug before heading out the back door. She had never been especially sentimental, nor was she very good as expressing how she felt, so this was pretty touching for Cordelia, thought Anita.
Anita looked at the clock. 6.40pm. Plenty of time to contemplate both how to handle Marcus this evening and what to do about the Alexander problem. She perched on the arm of a sofa thinking the situation through, when she heard the gate squeak open outside. She jumped up and looked through the window to see an energy town car parked the other side of the gate and Marcus striding up the path towards the front door. Anita retreated from the window and took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Well, guess I’ll just have to wing it,’ she muttered to herself, taking a deep breath as Marcus rapped forcefully a couple of times on the door. Anita waited a few moments before making her way slowly to the door. She wanted to let him sweat a bit; he had after all turned up twenty minutes early, a most un-gentlemanly thing to do. In fact, maybe that should be her opening line. Or is that taking it a bit too far, she wondered as she reached the door and pulled it open at a leisurely pace.
The door swung aside, revealing each to the other and they stood in silence for a moment taking in the form before them. Anita could feel Marcus’ energy make a sharp, upward turn and heard his breath catch in his throat. She felt her own energy soar as she surveyed the impeccably dressed, dazzlingly handsome specimen in front of her. They half smiled at each other, relishing the magnificent anticipation of what would happen next, before Marcus took glorious control. He stepped towards Anita and kissed her slowly and seductively on each cheek, Anita’s energy tingling delightfully as he did so.
‘Good evening Anita,’ he said in her ear.
‘Good evening Marcus,’ she replied slowly, enticingly as he took a step back. ‘I think you’ll find you’re early,’ she teased.
‘Well I couldn’t wait a moment longer,’ he flirted, although there was a hint of sincerity in his tone, ‘and there is somewhere I want to take you before we surround ourselves with people.’ Anita stepped forward raising an eyebrow, Marcus closing the front door behind her. He turned and offered her his arm. ‘You are exceptionally beautiful,’ he said softly as she took it, leaning in towards her. Anita tilted her head and smiled modestly, almost shyly at him before he guided her down the path and through the gate.
By the time they reached the gate, Marcus’ chauffeur was holding the door to the very spacious town car open and Marcus helped Anita inside. He waited until she was settled before climbing in after her.
‘So what is it you want to show me?’ probed Anita, intrigued after a couple of minutes of driving. The ball was taking place on Austin’s estate just outside of Empire, which was where they seemed to be heading, so Anita was keen to know what lay in store.
‘It’s a surprise,’ he shrugged back boyishly, as though it was something he couldn’t tell her even if he wanted to. She shot him a simmering look before bowing her head a little and smiling in submission. They travelled in silence, Anita watching the scenery go by, Marcus watching Anita, both feeling a little pacified by the mellow music playing from the front. They were up in the woods above the river now and still climbing. Anita suspected that Austin’s estate would be at the top of the hill, naturally with a spectacular view. That would be where she would choose to live if she were in his position. They passed a pair of imposing gates, enormous, protective lions on pillars either side. Anita threw Marcus a curious look as they passed.
‘We’re going in a different entrance,’ he said by way of explanation, confirming Anita’s suspicions that this was it, and about a mile further through the woods the chauffeur turned the car through a pair of much smaller, far less intimidating gates. About half a mile later, the car popped out of the woods into open
heathland. The heathland ran to the edge of a cliff, which had spectacular views of the surrounding landscape, including both Empire and the Observatory. The Chauffeur pulled up near the edge of the cliff and came round to open the door. Marcus stepped out of the car and helped Anita do the same. She walked to the edge and looked down the vertical drop to the river, a long way below. It was incredible, she thought, as she turned to look back at Marcus, but as she did so she caught sight of something behind him that was altogether more unexpected; an enormous, imposing castle, complete with fairytale battlements and turrets. Bloody hell, she thought inwardly, but successfully fought to keep her reaction hidden. The chauffeur unloaded a picnic basket and blanket before nodding to Marcus and striding off into the woods to give them some privacy.
‘Where is he going?’ asked Anita, shocked. ‘You’re not going to make him just hang out in the woods?!’
Marcus laughed, ‘no, even the evil Descendants aren’t that mean. There is a summer house in the woods, he’s gone to make himself a cup of tea and put his feet up until I call him back. Come on, we don’t have very long until we have to put on a show,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her to the blanket now laid out by the edge and sitting down. Anita sat down too, as elegantly as she could given the restrictive dress, thanking the Gods that she wasn’t wearing the figure hugging number Cleo had on.
