Prologue

“I never will tell you a thing, you know. You are just wasting time. Your time that is and mine also.”   Standing there in the middle of the fields, she knew he was capable of killing her with no qualms. His eyes were like looking into the portal to hell. He was tall, taller than most men and his hair was as dark as the midnight sky. He was no doubt a gentleman and in a different world, a different situation – she would have considered him irresistibly handsome. Closing her eyes she slowly exhaled, annoyed with herself. Today she was most likely going to cross into the land of the dead and the only thing going through her dazed mind was how good her soon to be killer looked in his breeches. “You see, dear girl; it would make be a lot simpler on everyone if you would just cooperate, and give me what I want.” She squirmed away from his finger trailing down her cheek. The other man shifted moving closer to them. “Did you hear that sir?” he whispered loudly. After a moment’s pause he continued, “Horse hooves if I am correct?” Hope sparked through her, maybe, just maybe, she would not have to join her mother in the land of the dead today. “You can do with me, what –” she stopped abruptly when she felt the sharp edge of a knife press into her neck. “I will never tell you anything!” She tried to pull away, but his hand snaked around her waist in a vice like grip. “Hmm…” He breathed in slowly, surreptitiously inhaling her essence. “I don’t want to have to kill you //yet//, you know.” A trickle of something damp ran down her neck – blood, her blood. Then his lips, warm and wet pressed onto her skin, sealing the cut. She was aware of his tongue flicking out, licking the flow of blood at the nape of her neck. A shiver travelled along her spine when he drew her even closer and his breath tickled the hairs at the back of neck. Slowly placing her palms on his chest, she tried to put some distance between them but he held her in place oblivious of her efforts to escape him. In a desperate attempt she dug her nails into the killer’s throat. At first nothing happened and she pressed harder until he growled and finally pulled away. By the time he could regain his breath, she had grabbed the skirts of her gown ready to run towards the woods. His accomplice came after her and she dodged his sluggish attempt to catch her. Then, she ran for her life. Faster than she had ever done before. Frantically as if the gates of hell had opened and its creatures were coming after her. She turned her head and the killer was bent over, still holding his throat. She saw a flash of two horses and their riders through the woods and knew who they were; she tried to pick up more speed attempting to get to the riders before they reached her. Then she heard the sound of a shot being fired, then another. She looked over her shoulder and saw the dull gleam of a black pistol; she saw the fire burn in the killer’s eyes and saw him turn to mount his horse. For a moment the world seemed to slow down to a heartbeat and silence descended upon her slowly. Wincing, she felt a sharp pain in her chest – so complete and intense. She fell to the ground and heard a familiar voice yell her name, the sound of footsteps getting closer.

“Good Lord. Nan! What happened? Your shoulder is bleeding.” Her sister turned around, full of despair, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Beatrice, Beatrice. The gunshots we heard – They were at Nan. She is bleeding. Her shoulder is bleeding.” “Nan, are you alright?” Beatrice dropped the bridle of her mare and threw it carelessly on the branch of a tree. “What in God’s name am I saying? Of course she is not alright. Come Mary let us get her up. We need to get her to the palace physician as soon as possible, so that her wounds can be attended to.” Nan grabbed her sister’s hand, addressing her friend. “Beatrice you need to be careful. Your uncle. Danger. Your both in grave, grave danger.” Coughing, she forced herself to continue. A man was inquiring about you. He wanted to know things that people in society don’t know about. Things that can be used against you, incriminating things. I told him nothing though.” With a deep sigh, her grip slackened and began to fall from where they gripped Mary’s. Mary shifted and placed her sister’s head on her lap, tightening her grip on her sister’s weakening hands. “She’s dying Beatrice, she’s dying!” Beatrice closed her eyes, hearing the grief in Mary’s voice. Her heart she felt was slowly breaking into even tinier fragments. She remembered when she got the news of her parents death when she was nine years old, and how inconsolable she was. How would she be able to face Nan’s father and tell him what had happened? How could she be the bearer of such disheartening and sorrowful news? “Mary, you are the best younger sister a person could ever ask for and I love you.” “Five minutes, only five minutes younger Nan, only five.” Mary smiled through her tears. “Please tell father that I love him too. I know I could have been a better and more understanding daughter.” Looking up at Beatrice then her sister, Nan tried to convey all the love she felt in her heart – for her family and most loyal friend. She closed her eyes and then she was falling, dropping quietly into the beckoning darkness, with the memory of her sister’s face and friend to carry with her. “Nan...” Beatrice whispered her voice breaking, “don’t leave us alone, not now. Please don’t leave us. Please!” It was only in the safety of her room and the comfort of her bed hours later that Beatrice let her tears run unimpeded. It was only then she permitted herself to drown in her grief. Like so many people have done since the beginning.

Letter to Juliet