Chapter 6: The Walking Dead

I enter the gaol, tentatively. “I’m here to see Jen,” I say, with the intonation of a question. The gaoler nods, picks up a band of keys and leads me down a corridor. It is dark, lamp-lit, and has a very heavy presence to it. There are scores of metal doors, numbered, solid. The key goes into the keyhole with a metallic clatter, grating on my ears. And the door swings open, screeching. I look in, and sitting in the sad, small cell is Jen. 

Her cheeks are tear-stained, reddened. Her eyes full of remorse and loss. Her usually groomed bob haircut is dishevelled. “Maj!” she sobs, running at me and throwing her arms around me. “Oh Maj!” The gaoler leaves us. We can’t get out without passing him and escape was never on the cards anyway. We sit down on Jen’s bed. “What are they saying out there?”

“They’re calling you a witch.”

Jen’s head falls into her hands. “But I didn’t know that the crown was enchanted!”

“I did warn you not to wear it.”

“I know! And I wasn’t going to anyway because it’s a ghastly looking thing! So I put it away, and I didn’t think that Rosa would -” Jen breaks off into a whimper. “Poor Rosa.” I decide not to say anything. “What will they do to me? I mean, not much worse can happen! Sister dead, shunned from society, my own family disowns me, thrown into gaol, accused of witchcraft. This is getting beyond ridiculous, Maj.”

I take a deep intake of breath and speak. “You’re to be hanged. This afternoon. Publicly for all to see.” 

“Well, what do you know; I was wrong,” she eventually says with heavy sarcasm. I can hardly blame her though. “Is there nothing we can do?”

I dislike my inclusion in her statement, but let it lie. “No.”

“You won’t help to bust me out of here?”

“Why are you dragging me into this?”

“Because you gave me the stupid thing!”

“You took it from me. I was given no choice!”

“You should have stood up for yourself! Grow some balls, Maj!”

“You should have taken better care. You knew that Rosa went through your stuff! You should have put it out of harm’s way!”

“I didn’t know that it was harmful!”

“I warned you!”

“You were mental!” she yells at me. We hold each other’s eye contact for quite a while. “The whole town thought that finding Angus’ body had driven you insane.”  I look away. “I know you’re not now though,” she says, as if it redeems her. It doesn’t. I want to reply. I want to shout at her until she understands. Instead, I get up and leave. I walk out of the cell and down the corridor, past the gaoler and outside. 

And now that I have a chance to think, now that my rage has subsided, I see that my walking out probably made her feel worse than all the words I could have shouted put together.

I walk to the blacksmith’s. Work will distract. I hope it will. Nigel is there, hammering away at the anvil. And so is Maud, sharpening her axe. Her steel-grey hair has been pulled back tightly into a bun. Her wrinkled face constantly frowning. She nods at me. My blood grows cold, but I nod back respectfully. Sparks fly as she sharpens it and my heart wrenches. Not because I love Jen, because I don’t. She’s too cruel to be loved by me. My heart wrenched because we grew up together and I feel I owe her some form of friendship, even though I have not received much in return. I owe her nothing. The presence of Maud chills me. I leave and stand in the street, hearing the metallic grinding of the axe being sharpened. The stage is before me, the final constructs being erected. Jen’s death is ever-creeping forward.

I decide that I can’t let Jen die. She is innocent. It is not in the name of friendship that I want her life to be spared. It is in the name of justice. If she dies, then all that I believe in will be false and disproved. Jen deserves life for her innocence in the matter at hand, not for her social skills. I am prepared. And I am going to rescue her. The damned damsel in distress. 

__________

The gaoler walks down the corridor. I can hear his footsteps approaching. He stands in the doorway and looks at me. “You are granted a final request,” he announces emotionlessly.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. “I would like to visit my sister’s grave please,” I say, in little more than a whisper. “It would mean a lot to me.”

“I shall see if it is possible.”

I wear a black cloak to hide my identity to everyone. I am guided out of the gaol and down the backstreets towards the graveyard. We arrive and the miniature wooden gate is held open for me. I enter the cemetery and walk solemnly through the arrangements of gravestones and tombs. Statues of angels and innocent children haunt my steps, the names on the headstones leaping out at me. And I am all too aware that soon I will join them. A tear creeps out from my eye, but I remove it quickly. I must remain strong. For the sake of my dignity, I must.

And suddenly before me is the new grave. It is covered in flowers: daffodils and snowdrops, pansies and daisies. It’s beautiful, delicate. The headstone is small and quaint and like the flowers, clean and fresh. The name reads: Rosa Pole, Aged 6. May You Be Crowned Eternally In The Afterlife. The epitaph stings my heart. As if they hadn’t made me feel bad enough as it is. I kneel beside the grave and stroke the top of the headstone. “Oh Rosa,” I say fondly. “You little bitch.” I stand again. “I will join you soon, it seems. I bet you can’t wait to see me so you can get your own back.” I put the grave behind me and walk back confidently to my escort, muttering “The little cow” under my breath.

________

Bridgeside is a very lovely town. And everyone is very friendly, accommodating. Although the presence of tragedy is still resonant. The townsfolk hold back, just a little bit, but noticeably. But what I have learned is that the older sister, whose name is Jennifer, is to be hanged this afternoon. What a mistake! I feel that it is my duty to save her, but I don’t know how. You read stories, don’t you, of all these people doing heroic things and you dream that if that day should come you would step up and be that heroic person. But I am clueless! This Jennifer girl needs saving, and it seems that I am the one that it falls upon to do so. Great.

I’ve already seen some Crowners of the Light around the town. We have exchanged nods of respect and acknowledgement. I don’t know how they intend to get the Crown. I don’t even know how I am going to get the Crown! But these things generally unfold by themselves, don’t they. It’s just a matter of recognising and taking the opportunity as and when it comes. I do hope that I don’t miss it when the time comes.

The town square was all a-buzz, you know. I found it rather morbid! All these people gathering to celebrate death. If the issue wasn’t so important to me, I would lock myself in my house and shut the curtains. And I would keep my children indoors too! My goodness, the number of children running around! It was an absolute farce. I think I have been away from society for too long. 

There was a shout. “Oy!”. I, with everyone else, turned around. There was a large, tall man, clad in white overalls. I think he must have been a butcher, but that is beside the point really. He was pointing, his whole arm outstretched. Almost in sync, the crowd followed his finger. Down one of the streets off the town square was a teenage boy and girl sneaking across the road. I assumed that she was the accused and he was a boy who had taken the matter of injustice into his own hands because all of a sudden there was such a furore that I thought I heard the wooden platform creak from the vibrations of the angry shouts. The girl was seized and dragged up onto the wooden stage of death (I think that phrase is a little melodramatic but I shall leave it as it is - I rather like it!). The boy was held in an armlock by the butcher, and could not escape despite his feeble efforts. The three men who were holding the girl shouted out to everyone: “The witch has cast a spell on the boy and tried to escape. She must be killed now!” The crowd cheered, and the girl, Jennifer, was thrown to her knees. It was only now that I noticed how brave her face was, but I could see her holding back the tears. 

Somebody from the crowd threw a woodcutter’s axe up to one of the men, who kicked Jennifer’s head down and raised the axe above his head. My heart felt like it had stopped. I froze. My desire to save the girl had been immobilized by the speed of the turning events. 

And then an arrow struck the man with the axe and he fell down dead, dropping the axe behind him. Everyone turned to see who had shot the arrow. There was silence, deathly silence. There were five men, dressed in brown, hooded habits - their faces were obscured by shadow. They were all armed with highly visible scimitars. The crowd parted for them as they slowly stepped forward and onto the stage in a V formation. Like geese. But not funny like geese. The other two men climbed down and rejoined the crowd, afraid and intimidated by the hooded men’s control. The man at the front of the V took his hood down - I recognised him from the Crowners of the Light and I tried to blend subtly into the crowd. “My name is ReNay. I am a Man of Justice.” (The way he spoke seemed to suggest capitalization). “This Girl has Violated your Laws. She must be Punished!” The crowd were silent. “My Brothers and I believe in sentences that reflect the Crime. She murdered her Sister with the Crown, now she must Suffer the Crown also.” The townsfolk were still quiet. I don’t think they totally understood what was going on. “Make the Witch wear the Crown. That is a Death Sentence in itself. Bring forth the Crown!” he called with punctuation. 

“No! Please, no!” Jen cried out.

The crowd enjoyed Jen’s torment. I watched her scared face look up to ReNay in disbelief and fear. Who was this man to take control over her life, well, her death? ReNay never looked at her. Maybe he couldn’t stand to. Maybe he’s done this thing so many times he knows how best to save his conscience. But he was cold. One of the Crowners - he was at the back of the V-formation -  brought the Crown forward. I don’t know how they got hold of it, or where it came from. But he stepped up and handed the Crown to ReNay.

“Stop! Please! I beg of you! I implore you! Don’t do this!” Jen was screaming.

“Silence!” ReNay screamed, with a stroke of mania. Jen stopped, but her sobbing, her whimpering continued in short, stifled bursts. “I Punish you to Walk the Land Alone Forever. You shall Wear this Crown. This is your Death Sentence.” Jen choked on her breath.

ReNay stood behind Jen and started to lower the Crown. I could see him muttering something to her, but I couldn’t hear. “What is going on here?” a voice suddenly demanded. Nobody had noticed, but the Mayor and a grey-haired woman with an axe had just ascended onto the stage. He was a portly chap, I imagined him quite jolly when his authority was not under siege by total strangers. Both ReNay and Jen looked over. Jen’s face showed a sense of hope, of safety. But then ReNay crowned her, and her face fell. Jen started to scream and cry! She pulled away from ReNay screaming, the Crown securely on her head. “No-o-o!” she bawled, tottering about the wooden stage. My heart doubled its speed, and dropped to the pit of my stomach. I had failed Jen. I had not picked up the courage to save her. Her life was over. She was the walking dead.

Chapter 4: This Woman That Kills

Oh. My. Goodness! You will never believe what the word on the street is! Apparently in this small town called Bridgeside, a little girl died when her older sister snatched a tiara off her head! This is brilliant! Not, of course, for the little girl or her family. But what if this tiara is one of the Crowns? Think of the possibilities! This could start the trail to the other Crowns! And then the Keepers of the Crowns would be successful! We’d win! And I have used an awful lot of exclamation marks! But I don’t care, because this is all so exciting! In fact, I may break traditional grammatical guidelines and use multiple exclamation marks! How fantastic!!! (I think three exclamation marks is quite enough.) I need a drink.

Right. I have calmed myself down now. Took me five glasses of water and one of whiskey. And now I need the toilet.

There we go. Much better. So I am going to travel to this town of Bridgeside and investigate. No doubt there will be some Crowners there too. Hopefully I will be able to beat them there. I plan to leave within the next few hours once I’ve packed a bag and left my accommodation in a reasonable state. I can’t stand coming home to an untidy house. 

I have given some thought as to which Crown this could be. The other two Keepers of the Crown and I have managed to produce a shortlist of the abilities we believe the Crowns have been embellished with by looking at the myths and legends. Having consulted my copy of this list, I believe this Crown to grant the wearer immortal life. 

Below is a story that I discovered that concerns such a crown. I have rewritten it to include information from the other sources that I found regarding the original series of events:

There was a group of outlaws - thieves and robbers. They had managed to steal a lot of treasure over the period of their existence. However, someone had told the authorities of their whereabouts, so they had to make a quick getaway. They grabbed as much treasure as they could, stuffing their pockets with coins, putting rings on their fingers, necklaces round their necks, crowns on their heads. And then they ran. 

They rested in a barn many miles away from their hideaway. But in the middle of the night, one of the men, Caleb, was woken by another talking. At first, he supposed he was sleep-talking, murmuring in his sleep. But as Caleb’s eyes focused he saw that the man was wide awake and chatting away to an absence. There was nothing in the space he was talking to. The man was still wearing a crown that he had put on in the rush to escape. Caleb called over to the talking man, whose name was Nikolire. “Hey! Shut up!” Nikolire looked over, but ignored him and carried on talking. His voice was too low for Caleb to hear anything. “You deaf or something? Shut up, I said!” But Nikolire did not even look over this time. Caleb got up. “And why are you still wearing that crown? All the treasure’s being kept in the bags. You’d better not be thinking of running off with it.”

Nikolire turned to him again. “If I take it off, I won’t see her again. If I keep it on, I shall always see her. Always. For eternity.”

“See who? There’s no one there.”

“You’re not special enough to see her.”

“What?”

“She only appears to those she wants!” Nikolire said, childishly. “And you’re not special enough!”

“Well you’re plenty special, aren’t you! Schizo…” he added under his breath.

Nikolire jumped to his feet. “Say that to my face!” he shouted, and then to the empty space “He is worth it.”

Caleb got to his feet and then lunged at Nikolire, who hopelessly failed to standi his ground and the pair tumbled to the floor. The force of the impact knocked the crown from Nikolire’s head and Nikolire died. Caleb got back up and looked down at Nikolire. “Get up,” he ordered, before realizing that he was dead.

The robbers blamed Caleb for Nikolire’s death for they had awoken when Nikolire had shouted. They rose to see Caleb ordering the dead body to get up. Caleb claimed over and over again that it wasn’t him and it must have been something else. He claimed he had not hit Nikolire with that strong a force. He was not believed.

The authorities found Caleb’s body hanged from the barn’s rafters. It was only later, when another outlaw who had worn the crown died, did they recognise the truth of Caleb’s story. The crown was declared as cursed and thrown into a river so that it may never found again.

I have started my travels now. I have walked all day, and about twenty miles. But now I am resting. I have set up a small shelter and am quite cosy. Here is another tale regarding immortality and diadems.

June was the daughter of the miller and she worked in all areas of the mill, from the grinding of the wheat to the baking of the dough to the selling of the bread. She was well-liked and doted upon by the men in her village. But by none more than William, the son of the local chandler. He, above all others, treated June with more presents and gifts than all the rest.

And so it came to be that William plucked up the courage to propose to June and ask for her hand in marriage. He bought a ring and some flowers and made his way to the mill where they lived. 

He knocked on the front door and waited. The door was opened by the miller, who had a very grave face, and the doctor, who looked very apologetic and serious. The doctor bade good day to the miller and then left. “Can I help you, William?” the miller asked.

“Yes, sir. I have come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“Your timing is most inconvenient. She has just been diagnosed with a fatal illness. She cannot be saved.” William’s heart broke that day, and he wandered home very sad indeed.

The next morning, William visited the village shop. He said to the shop-keeper “Please sir, I need a potion that will cure my love of her fatal illness.” The shop-keeper understood and smiled. “Try this medicine on your girl, it’s instant miracles will make your hair curl!” he said. For an unexplained reason, the shop-keeper spoke in rhyme. William bought the potion and hurried to the mill to see if he could heal June. William gave the potion to the miller who administered it to June. But the medicine did not work.

Next, William next went to the warlock who lived in the caves outside the village. William said to the warlock “Please sir, I need an enchantment that will dispel a fatal illness from the girl I love.” The warlock understood and smiled. “I know of a spell, it’s effects are great. It will remove the sickness she has had of late,” he said. For an unexplained reason, the warlock spoke in rhyme. The warlock whispered the spell into William’s ear, and William hurried to the mill to see if he could heal June. William told the spell to the miller, who went and cast it upon June. But the spell did not work.

William was very sad now, so, the next day he visited the witch who lived in the woods outside the village. She made potions and remedies and sold an assortment of random objects, all of which had amazing stories behind them, many of which were false. Williams said to the witch “Please ma’am, I need a potion that can mend my broken heart.”

It so happened that the witch knew the source of his broken heart, and she presented him with a crown. “This crown,” she said to William, “is no ordinary crown. It is a crown that brings immortal life for the wearer. But only if the crown is never removed. As soon as the crown leaves the wearer’s head, they will die. Give it to June. Make her wear it for all time and you shall live together.” For an unexplained reason, the witch did not speak in rhyme. William happily bought the crown. As he was leaving, the witch called after him: “Remember! The crown must always be worn if you want your love to live.”

William gave the crown to the miller who went and placed it upon June’s head, and she was healed! The pair married within the month and lived together for many years and had many children, and June always wore the crown.

And when William died one summer’s afternoon, June removed the crown from her head so that they could walk to the afterlife together.

I love this story! It’s so happy. It makes something as grim as death seem wonderful and romantic. And I can only dream of such romance. It’s a lonely life, that of a druid. You have been warned. 

I have spent a lot of time trying to work out the journey that this Crown has taken. So we start off in Kingdom Faithful when the Crowns were made and where the children of Hunn unsuccessfully crashed the party.

The outlaws I believe to be a criminal gang known as the Avengers, a group who believed that they were victims of society and made it their duty to screw society over as best they could. Their manifesto, however, comes across as much more political than their actions were. In reality, the Avengers were little more than petty thieves stealing what they could from the rich and poor alike, although they were very bureaucratic. They accounted for everything they owned and sold, they had a membership list. Very thorough for a petty criminal gang.

The Avengers existed about forty years after Hunn’s children were arrested. I’ve just thought: this event needs a proper name. A title. The Something. The Great Something. The Great Failure? Hunn’s Epic Failure? Hunn’s Epic Crown Fail? Yes, I like that. Hunn’s Epic Crown Fail. So in that forty year period, the Crown of Immortality fell into the hands of the Avengers. A question that I have been scouring history books for an answer to is what spilt up the Crowns. Why is the Crown of Immortality the only one that the Avengers had? There were no other reports in their papers of crowns with magical abilities. What happened to the other Crowns? 

Anyway, so one hundred years later and we come to William and June’s story. The village that the couple lived in is Humbleby in the Kingdom of Thripp, neighbouring Kingdom Faithful at its south-eastern border (that is Faithful’s south-eastern border, not Thripp’s). The kingdoms are connected by the River Trust, and the village of Humbleby rests not two miles from the river. I suspect that the Avengers cast the Crown into the River Trust, which then travelled downriver where it was washed up in Thripp. I suspect it was either found by the witch or by someone else who went on to sell it to the witch. How the witch identified its magical properties, I don’t know. It is possible that she sensed the dark magic within the Crown, and maybe a weary traveller went ‘missing’ in the area at the time, falling awry to the witch’s morally ambiguous ethical code and tried the Crown on, only to die as it was removed confirming the witch’s suspicions. Another mystery. Another vaguely irrelevant mystery, but I love the irrelevant mysteries! They make the past so much more real. Less linear, more of a web of connections. So I apologise if you find all of this very tedious! 

The Crown of Immortality vanishes from history at this point. What happened to it once June removed it is another mystery, but a very relevant mystery this time. Because somehow it ended up back in Kingdom Faithful and in this town of Bridgeside. 

Another enigma surrounding the Crown of Immortality is the Spirit of the Crown, as I like to call it. Nikolire was talking to an area of nothingness. But he treated the space as occupied. I hardly believe he was schizophrenic. The figure he saw was female, reportedly. And kindly too, it seems. Well, kindly or very deceptive. After all, it is this woman that kills these poor souls. 

With any hope, these mysteries will be solved when I arrive in Bridgeside. Fingers crossed, eh!