Three Kings

Sebastian brightened, turning back to him. ‘Come at noon – I can show you around.’

Oh, he’d walked into that one, hadn’t he? ‘If I can get away.’ Alan regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth; Sebastian’s eyes had gone bleak. ‘No, I’m sure I can. Tomorrow. We can have lunch together – when you came to work at the Palace, we said we’d have lunch all the time …’

‘Yet somehow, we never do,’ Sebastian said.

Alan counted to ten, at human speed. He had to try harder. Sebastian was just so much work. Richard was easy by comparison … ‘Maybe we can pick some flowers for our lunch, add them to a salad, or to a bit of dessert? Remember that cake you made me for my birthday, with the crystallized rose petals on top? That was delicious. I’m sure the Queen wouldn’t mind …’

Sebastian sniffed. ‘The only things blooming in the garden right now are hellebores and snowdrops. If you put hellebores in my dessert, I’ll drop down dead.’

‘Well, we wouldn’t want that.’ Alan put a hand on Sebastian’s cheek, leaned in for a quick kiss. After a brief moment, his husband responded, lips warming under his, opening. The kiss lingered, longer than any had in some time, and when Sebastian finally pulled away, his eyes were bright.

‘No,’ Sebastian said, softly. ‘I suppose we wouldn’t.’ He snuggled into Alan’s shoulder, turning back to the television, and increasing the volume a bit. Even with the closed captions on, Sebastian liked to hear as much as he could.

Alan brushed his husband’s hair with his fingers, letting the strands slip past, one by one. He should’ve felt reassured, but there had been something in Sebastian’s eyes, a bleakness, that worried him. He couldn’t possibly know about Richard, could he?

The TV cut away, and then there was a sombre-faced announcer on the screen, all in black, announcing that the Queen had passed away. Oh, Margaret .

‘I’ll have to go in,’ Alan said, pulling away from his husband and rising to his feet.

‘Right now?’ Sebastian asked. He followed Alan back to the main entry.

Alan said, as he bundled up again in cardigan, coat, scarf, ‘I’ll have to meet with the Lion at Windsor, set up Henry’s security detail for his return to London and Buckingham Palace. It will take some time – don’t wait up.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ Sebastian said quietly. ‘Though I don’t sleep well until you’re safely home beside me.’

Alan repressed a sigh. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can.’ Time to make an effort. ‘The curry was delicious, love. Thank you.’

Alan let the door shut behind him, and headed out into the cold.

That night, the killings of the crows continued. There wasn’t so much as a word spoken of it on the news channels, even though now, adults were joining in. Gunshots rang out and even in the nearest barracks she felt crows die at the hands of common soldiers, while officers turned a blind eye.

And that’s when the goddess understood.

Like any dying organism, the city stirred its antibodies to free itself of the disease. It knew, perhaps only through the shared subconscious of its inhabitants, who she was, what she was. Perhaps the time had come to spread her wings. To bring some other city to its knees so that the land might drink the blood of its heroes.

On the news, an item about farm subsidies was brought to a sudden halt.

‘We apologize to viewers for the interruption, but we’re hearing that Windsor Castle will be making an announcement in the next five minutes or so. The programme will stay on the air, but it looks as if the sad news we’ve been expecting about the Queen is about to be confirmed. If so, it truly is the end of an era. An unprecedented time of peace and prosperity for mainland Britain for which she deserves some of the credit …’

Badb stayed up watching for hours. ‘Unprecedented peace and prosperity,’ she thought. ‘Fascinating.’

‘And what about the succession?’ said one royal correspondent to another.

‘Frankly, the polling prefers Richard by a wide margin. His opinions are less … troubling.’

‘Quite!’

‘But just imagine the chaos if he were to try for the throne!’

Imagine the chaos. Unprecedented peace.

Badb left that very night.

S T PAUL’S CATHEDRAL WASpacked with worshippers – correction, make that ‘gawkers’ , Noel thought. There were some obvious tourists among the crowd but it seemed to be predominately locals filling the chairs. The boys in the choir were doing their best to draw attention away from the family in the front pew, as were the various participants leading the congregation in prayer, and everyone was failing utterly.

This was the first opportunity for people to see their new king and his young bride-to-be and they were taking full advantage. Noel studied the man: his bald pate shining in the light through one of the transept windows, the black mourning armband wrinkling the material of his suit jacket. In place of his now-divorced, rather horse-faced wife of forty-three years sat a young woman in a chic little hat with a net veil. Her family was also present, but the whole thing was grotesque. She could have been his granddaughter.

Henry’s only son, Edward, had been killed sixteen years ago while serving in one of those periodic conflicts that flared up in British colonies, and Edward’s wife had lost her baby, leaving only Henry’s other child, the royal daughter, Gloriana. But she had married a Norwegian prince and agreed to be removed from the succession. It amused Noel to think he had been part of the reason for that marriage. He stifled a laugh.

Gloriana was not present on this cold, grey Sunday but Noel assumed she would attend the funeral. As for Henry, Noel could not fathom why he hadn’t remained at Windsor and attended services at St George’s chapel rather than returning to London. Maybe he wanted to bask in the moment and show off his bride. Christ knows he’s waited long enough for the crown, but Richard …

Noel stole a glance across the aisle where Richard, Duke of York, sat stony-faced with Diana and their brood. Despite the rumours about his proclivities, Richard had sired an outrageous number of kids. Although based on some of the hair colours it was questionable if all of them were his.

The prayer of preparation began and Noel found his memory of the words returning. ‘Almighty God to whom all hearts are open, all desires known …’ Please let me keep my son. ‘And from whom no secrets are hidden …’ Please don’t let him ever find out what kind of man I really am. ‘Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.’

Despite himself, the music and language was having an effect even though his belief in any sort of divine, guiding and loving god had vanished years ago. Yet how quickly one returned to a hope that entreaties to an imaginary friend in the sky could actually help. He glanced down at Jasper, who sat with rapt attention listening to the music. The boy’s fingers were playing with the light flowing through the stained-glass windows, weaving the different colours into a fanciful design. Noel laid a hand over Jasper’s and leaned in to whisper. ‘Not in here. There’s a lot of security.’ He nodded towards the various agents positioned around the church, and the three Silver Helix agents. ‘They might view what you’re doing as a threat.’