the haunted kingdom by Charles E.J. Moulton (snow like ashes txt) 📕

were many lit candles in there and the orange coloured tapestries and brown sand stonewalls gave the room a very warm colour. The centerpiece was a gilded altar. The monk was praying in there. Belinda walked in, went down on her knees and prayed along with him. She prayed for her family and her kingdom and her life in general, but her thoughts were still with this one little girl that had appeared out of nowhere. Who was she and why had she come to her? She had the urge to tell someone about it.
She took the heart up again. She shook her head and smiled.
“That’s a nice gift,” the man praying next to her said. She looked up. She smiled at him. He had jaunty eyes and a happy smile, a graying ring of hair and wrinkles. He had an air of transparency, of beauty. It wasn’t physical beauty, but spiritual beauty. The light from the wax candles flickered against the gold altar and shone back as fiery, dancing lights against his strong features.
“How did you know it was a gift?”
”Oh.” the man said, looking at the altarpiece.
He looked back at her, mischievously.
“I see it in your eyes.”
“Really?”
He nodded, looking up at the stonewalls.
(“Gloria in excelsis deo”)
“The way you look at it, it must be a dear one.” He looked at her again, signaled for her to come closer. She did. He pointed at it. “Take good care of that thing. It’s a blessing in disguise.” He signaled upwards. She nodded as if just revealed a huge secret.
“You are a very friendly man. Thank you for speaking to me.”
He laughed, wisely. “Thank you, my dear!”
”What is your name?”
”I am every man that seeks me, every man that knows me.” He nodded. “I will tell you this, though. They do like you up there.”
(“Gloria in excelsis deo”)
Belinda put her head to the side. “You think so?”
He nodded. “You are a child of the light. Children of the real light always end up in the light.
Children of real light will always win in the end. They are esteemed to, for they can do no wrong.” He spoke like he would speak to a child. “That is why your worries are unnecessary.” He chuckled to himself. “Naturally, even the equitable children make mistakes and are led the wrong way. Somewhere along the road, however, there is something that holds them back before they perish.”
“How do you know all this?”
(“Gloria in excelsis deo”)
He smiled. “I have my connections.”
“But you don’t know me.”
He grinned. “I know you, child. Trust me on that.”
He sighed, his face turning sad. “I must caution you to always wander into the light, even in the darkness. Hold onto not only the heart in your hand, but the heart in your heart of hearts. There is much in your path that will meet you. You will need it. But God will be with you. You can count on him. Always. Always.”
This man, who seemed to know things that penetrated her soul and gave her hope, touched Belinda. She was going to ask him who the girl was, who he was.
He held up his hand.
“No questions. Not yet. All will be revealed one day. No matter how dark the road looks there is always sun behind the clouds. ”Belinda took his hand and held it. He smiled and nodded. There was an exchange of glances. This was an old soul. “We are there for you… always.”
Was always the key word? Yes, it was the key word. A good word. Always.
She saw who it was and she could not believe it, although she did.
He patted her on the back and pointed at the heart. “Lovely thing, that.”
She looked back at the red heart and touched it with love.
She nodded. “Yes, a lovely thing.”
(“Gloria in excelsis deo”)
He chuckled. “Be happy you have it.”
She nodded. “I am. A lovely young girl gave it to me.”
The elderly man stroked her on the cheek.
He nodded calmly to himself at this comment of hers, pretending that what he heard was new although it wasn’t. Then he looked up Belinda, touched her cheek and closed his eyes. Then he opened them and sighed softly and tenderly. “Take care of that baby of yours, Belinda!”
Belinda, who had been looking at the heart, looked up and asked, startled,”What baby?”
When she looked up, the elderly monk was gone.
The entire day she spent praying, thinking of the two monks, the girl and the elderly cleric with the bright eyes. They all seemed angelic somehow. She knew they were blessings for she could feel them around her as she prayed all through the day.
Before dusk approached she walked up, lit five candles by the virgin altar, did the sign of the cross and walked down the archway to the gate. On the back of the cathedral toward the rear entrance Rolf would be waiting. At this side of the cathedral there were graves of bishops and altarpieces of different kinds. There were rich and poor people alike in here, deceased and living. People with families, some she knew, some not. People she would rule one day and ruled even today.
One old woman caught her eye on her way out. It was an elderly lady with a scarf around her head. She was all in brown except for the colourful scarf. She was mumbling the Lord’s Prayer half loud to herself. It was Latin she was whispering. A desperate whisper, tears running down her cheeks.
(„Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.“)
Her hands were clutched so tightly together that the knuckles were whitening.
Belinda saw her right foot. It was tied up in some sort of bandage and it was bleeding.
(“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.“)
Belinda walked up to her and kneeled next to her in front St. Gabriel’s Altar.
(“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris”)
Belinda went down on her knees next to the woman and stayed there for quite some time before speaking. She just listened to her hectic whisper and wondered what troubles might haunt her spirit.
(“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen. Amen. Amen.)
Belinda spoke. “What is your problem, Sister heart?”
The old woman gasped and looked up, startled, glancing at her in fear and really not knowing if she should answer or not. Then she looked down at her clasped hands and spoke. “My husband is dying, Mistress! And I have no other person in my life that loves me like he does. I need him, Sister heart, and am so afraid of losing the man I love.”
Belinda sighed. “I understand your pain.” She took the old lady’s hand turned to the woman, aware that the light from the white windows might reveal her identity. She caressed her hand and continued: “Go home to your husband, Sister, and see to him. He will get well. I am sure.”
The old woman stood up and Belinda as well. The old woman looked at the mistress in awe and bowed. “Yes, Mistress!”
(“Gloria in excelsis deo”)
The woman disappeared out of sight and Belinda was alone again.
When Belinda walked into the bright late afternoon sunshine that day, strolling toward the rear of the church, Rolf was there and waiting for her. She calmly walked in without saying a word and sat down on the leather seat. The carriage left with Belinda in it and rode for only a few moments when, on one of the side streets, she saw the woman again. She was with an old man that must’ve been her husband. The old man was sick, but walking. The old lady was eagerly telling him something and she was smiling. So was he. She ordered Rolf to stop.
“Give the old lady some gold coins, Rolf!”
”Majesty?”
”Just do it, Rolf! You have some, don’t you?”
”Yes, m’lady! How much?”
“Hundred dinars ought to do it.” Belinda chirped.
Rolf stuttered. “I beg your pardon?”
“Rolf,” Belinda spat. “You have that much, don’t you?”
“Yes, o-of c-course I do, although I don’t see why.”
“Then just do it.” The servant jumped off the carriage and plucked out his leather bag and gave the old couple what in their money’s worth would be two months salary. In the corner of her eye she saw the old couple standing dumbfounded by his action and smiling, their eyes wide open.
Belinda left Clurafar that day, grinning to her heart’s delight. None of the experiences that Belinda had that day she told anyone at all. Not for a long time, anyway. But she thought about the people that she had met that day for the rest of her life.

Saturday, July 18th, 1422 A.D.

It was so obvious that Senator Cretan of Clurafar was more than embarrassed about his behaviour on their last conference in the palace. He had said, “You can’t always have your way, Belinda! Sometimes it’s better to send someone with some precise expertise up to the Senate instead of a youngster like you!” Princess Belinda had then held an hour long angry lecture, listing all of the instruments she played, what languages she spoke, what she knew and didn’t know and then stormed out immediately and asking Rolf to show the Senator where the palace gateway was. She had later sent a messenger that told him that if did not issue an apology regarding his impossible behaviour she would replace a very old politician with young blood. She didn’t want an old fart leading the country, when she feared that he would stumble over his own socks walking up to the podium.
He had apparently suddenly become very afraid of his position.
The entire morning had been devoted by the assembly to travels around town looking at the various performances that were constantly being performed in the outskirts and around the centre. Their guide was the very jaunty Julius Cretan. Steven and Belinda together with Morgana and Richard, Patricia and Sieglinde. This Tuesday he spent the entire morning curtsying and bowing to Belinda, adding the word expert here and there in her presence.
They had placed the carriage under Theo’s supervision and Ruby trying to entertain Rolf inside the royal stables at the rear of St. Raphael’s and then walked leisurely into the open marketplace. After being hailed and admired all morning among the more rural and rustic gents, who also were putting on shows, now the turn had come to see the main attraction.
There was bustle here today and around twenty different stages with different kinds of entertainment. All alongside the walls were stands with food between the stages. From here she could see two men with magic serums, their customary black hats on with their names and serum capabilities upon signs hanging from their necks. She could see five stages with fire jugglers and three music ensembles, five different stages with mixed entertainment. She supposed one of them entailed a poet reading his poetry to music whilst an acrobat did some tricks and turned in tune with the song that was being sung. On yet another stage food was being cooked to music that was about food.
There was one provisoric opera stage with five jesters hitting each other to music. The rest were theatre ensembles. Musicians crowded the square. There were little children playing on the cobblestones that stopped playing and looked up to greet the queen and the princess entourage.
Morgana was decently dressed and no cleavage was in sight. There was a white