Loch Leven Castle & Mary Queen of all Scots

I looked at the loch as I waited for the ferry to return from bringing back other visitors from this castle with so much history. The loch was huge even today with our modern lookout on life. In 1567 I can only imagine that it looked even bigger when the waters were two metres higher. The loch had been lowered two metres giving more land to the farmers near the surrounding banks, but its size was still immense.

I was sitting in the ferry that I believe would be not a lot bigger than the rowing boat that had taken Mary Queen of all Scots to her prison. In that boat would have been Sir William Douglas sitting in the stern looking towards his place of travel the castle and home. Just in front of him would be chests containing a few of the belongings of the person looking back at him. She was a beautiful red head of twenty five years old, with most probably the look of resignation on her face. Defeat in her eyes with a hint of despair and betrayal in her mind who could know? Behind her would be the two oarsmen pulling together as they guided the rowing boat to the queen’s prison.

I could only imagine that her journey into captivity over those previous four days had been lonely. Those lords and knights that had sworn to protect the queen plotted with the aid of John Knox to oust her from her throne. These supposedly noblemen should have been nurturing this young queen,  but they under the instructions of the John Knox philosophy hated the thought of being governed by a woman.  The very lords and noblemen had broken their oath just a short time before at Carberry Hill. Sir William who was only twenty seven years old had sold his oath to the devil for £1.289-12d, to become Queen Mary’s gaoler. 

While I was in Scotland a few weeks ago researching history for my latest story I went to Loch Leven Castle. I knew the history of the castle a long time before I visited the island it sits on. I was there for a reason and that was to walk in the footsteps of Mary Queen of Scots, who was the true queen of England. For those that need a reminder of history, Queen Elizabeth the first of England was the illegitimate daughter of Henry the Eighth. It was not her right to be queen, and had reason to fear Mary as the rightful heir to the throne.

I walked through the only gate and entrance into the courtyard that is steeped with so much history it sent a tingle up my spine. I thought that this old entrance would have been the only way Mary could enter to be taken to her prison. On the 17^th of June1567 Queen Mary walked through this same gate as a prisoner. She had been lied to by her parliament of lords who broke their solemn oath. [Well, nothing new there, our Members of Parliament are still doing it to us in the UK, 450 years later.]

To my right was the Square Tower House that housed Sir William Douglas and his family. A tall five story building built of large blocks of gray stone. I walked further into the courtyard that was now covered in a blanket of mowed grass. I looked to my right and could see the remains of the great hall. The walls were now just one metre tall at its highest point. At the rear sitting on the outer wall was the remaining gable end left to show where the apex of the roof had once been. There was a lonely vacant window space in the apex that once looked out onto the loch.

In my imagination I could hear the loud talking and the laughter as would have been heard on the 2^nd of May1568. That was the night of the party and banquet for Sir William, when his sons betrayed him for their Queen. While he was making merry feasting and drinking wines and ale, Mary Queen of Scots was escaping. I could only smile at the simplicity of the most dangerous escape from a well guarded castle.

Opposite from where I was standing was the Round Glassin Tower. It was Queen Mary of Scots prison for those eleven months of captivity. I looked at the two chimneys that remained reaching for the sky, and imagined the conical roof that had protected the queen from the elements. I walked in a direct line towards the opening in the wall at the foot of the tower knowing this would be the same path Sir William would take her. I was walking in the Queen of Scotland’s footsteps, and once again I felt the chill slip up my spine.

At the tower I walked inside and saw the tiny steps that lead to the upper floors and the queen’s chamber. Walking up those few remaining steps I realised I would be walking shoulder to shoulder with the walls. The width of the tower was no more than twelve feet from wall to wall, and if square this would still not be big enough to house the Queen of Scotland. The Lords were making their chauvinist point of treating Mary less than human, because they like John Knox needed to show their disrespect not only of the Queen, but of all women.

As I looked up there was only the sky to see, the holes for the fireplaces could be still seen. The floors had rotted away many years ago. There was still her window where Mary sat for so long looking at freedom. On looking out there was now no water for a boat to come close, the loch had receded a few metres and trees blocked the view.

All that was left of the castle now is the ghost of what it once was. The passing of time and the elements were turning this once stately home into a crumbling memory. The whole castle had died as if in shame, when their thick walls could not hold the Queen of all Scots a prisoner. It was the punishment God gave Sir William Douglas for breaking his oath with the other lords.  The twelve hundred and eighty-nine gold coins for being her gaoler were the wages of his sin.

GUARDIAN ANGELS

I have always been a believer in guardian angels, and I sincerely believe that I have seen mine on at least two occasions. I believe the things that take place in our lives which take us away from near death situations are not luck. Once yes I will admit once could be luck, but many times I find it hard to believe. Several times I have moved away from my chosen course by others, even if most cases it was not a deliberate act. I have many times said that fate has placed me back on my chosen route towards my destiny, but now after a lot of soul searching I find that I might be wrong.

There have been occasions when I have been near or close to death, but walked away knowing that but for the grace of god I should have been dead. They are not the only times the guardian angels help us because they never leave our side. I was told once that a guardian angel cannot help us unless you tell them what you want out of life. So in 2006 I wrote a letter to mine and asked her if he/she would help me get my stories published. You are wondering how I wrote the letter or even how did I post it? I wrote it on ordinary paper and folded it twice and placed it under a timber joint in my shed which is locked 24/7. In 2008 when my first story was published I went out to the locked shed and looked for the letter. Did you expect it to be there, well I did, but the letter had disappeared.

 

Let’s go back 62 years ago when I was four and a half years old. Due to a traumatic experience I suffered a nervous breakdown which kept me away from school for over two years. Although I had an older brother I mostly played on my own, because he was at school five days a week. I had an imaginary friend, [or was he/she?]. He was called Djick, it was a strange name even for those days. He played hide and seek with me, walked about the large garden with me, fed the rabbits with me, and helped me play with my toys. There is a theory that when children are under stress or their well being is not fully loaded they have the ability to tap into the spirit world because their minds are still innocent. Whether Djick was a figment of my imagination, a spirit, or my guardian angel I have no idea. I am however glad that he was there to play with me to keep me company during the loneliest time in my life.

 

Now we will go forward a few years and I was twelve years old. While helping with the hay making on a farm, I fell thirty feet out of the barn. I landed flat on my back onto a concrete base, and apart from being winded I had no scars or broken bones. Why?

 

While in the Parachute regiment, I was in an Hastings aircraft that landed with three propellers stopped, and on touchdown the last one died. The cause was a massive fuel leak with the pilot flying the last few miles on fumes. Was that luck?

 

 

 

During the troubles in Northern Ireland I was nail bombed with the rest of the section. The radio on my back saved my life when it stopped over five, six inch nails striking my back. Was I fortunate?

My wife Lorna was going through a bad time with her heart problems, and I was trying to stay working as well as be with her. I have a fear of hospitals and I had just spent every evening for two weeks visiting her in hospital. I was getting stressed out with the constant battle of conquering my fear when visiting and work. She was out once more but the caring and worrying about her health still got me down at times.

 

I found myself walking along the straight road that travels out of Amberly towards Storington. There were no birds singing and the sky had grey/brown clouds had that pink haze you see after a rain storm. I looked down to my right where a child of about ten in aged clothes was holding my hand. She had old fashioned medium length blond hair with curls at the bottom. Her dress was a white pinafore dress with fancy lace in various places. She looked up and smiled at me but said nothing as she gripped my hand tight. I remembered the face and felt comfortable with her walking at my side. We must have walked the whole length of the straight without talking, while all the time her footsteps were matching mine. It was at the end of the straight we stopped and I looked down at her once more, and asked, “Who are you, and why are you here?”

Once again she looked up into my face while smiling and said, “You know who I am, Ian. We all need someone to show us the way.” Then before my eyes she smiled once more and disappeared. My eyes opened and I sat up in bed because the dream was so real, but it was the face of the child. It was a face I remembered from a long time ago, but I couldn’t place where from.

 

On November the thirteenth I was driving my car early in the morning. My mind and coordination was not functioning as it should have been. I was driving at no more than twenty miles per hour while passing the Gardeners Inn public house near my home. The junction of the lane I was on and the main Horsham road was only one hundred yards in front. My left hand was on the gear stick with my right hand as usual lightly holding the steering wheel.

A savvier pain crossed my forehead and behind my eyes as I passed the parked cars on my left. The left hand side of my body went limp as I found out later I was in the middle of a mini stroke. I know that I never turned that steering wheel to the left, but the car I was driving hit the last parked car before the junction. If I had carried on driving another seventy five yards I would have been at that main junction. At that time in the morning with the amount of traffic that was work related, I do believe that I would have been in an almost certain fatal accident. Yes; I truly believe in guardian angels.

 

Be well Ian

 

 

Marina [Battle warrior to the Gods] The first chapter.

CHAPTER ONE

It was very evil and very powerful, and it was either already on the surface of Midgard or it was close and ready to strike.

Warrior had stood outside the tigers’ cave for four days without moving, and he could sense it.  The balance between good and evil had been upset.  He had felt this type of evil before, from the god Dark Storm, but this was so much stronger and the undertones held menace that he had never encountered.

Could he be mistaken?

Had one of the evil gods escaped the confines of the Underworld and was now walking the surface?  No.  He pushed that thought aside.  This evil was so powerful and intense that it had to be alien to Midgard.  He had felt its presence the moment it arrived, and yet his senses were telling him that it was trying to remain secret.

There was more unrest, and Warrior was sure that this evil, whatever it was, had caused it.  It had disturbed the Underworld, and that could never be good.

It was close, Warrior was sure.  It was definitely on his side of Midgard, and it was near the mountains or even on them with him.

Warrior thought back to the Sorcerer who was evil to the core, and he wondered whether perhaps it was something the Sorcerer had managed to leave, something that could do evil even when the Sorcerer had gone.  He dismissed that idea as impossible almost as soon as it entered his head.  The Sorcerer had not been as powerful as they had first thought.  Yet, anything was possible.  He would keep the thought alive.  He might return to it later.

This evil felt far too strong to be just one mortal, and it was far stronger than the evil demons that had been summoned to the surface.  The power behind it troubled Warrior.  If it was not mortal, then it must be alien to this world, and there was now no doubt in Warrior’s mind of its power and its intensity.  This must be something new, something unknown in Earth’s territories.

Warrior thought about the entrance to the Stepping Stones to the god, but he dismissed that idea too.  Marina had told him that the Sorcerer had pulled down half the cave to close the entrance for all time.  Since the time of the Sorcerer, the gateway to the realms had been changed.  There was not a single Key now but several, and they were spread out over the Outer World.  Each realm had part of the Key, and even if you had five parts without the sixth there was no entrance to the realms.  Warrior was one of the few exceptions to the rule because, like his mentors, the Creators, he used the mists of time to travel.

The Creators appeared in front of him, and he bowed in respect.

“You are troubled, Warrior, and we too have felt the unbalance.  Yes, we have felt its power, but you cannot fight it.  This is Power Extreme, and far too powerful for your kind of wars.”

“My Lords, the evil is not moving about as I would have expected.  It remains in one place, as though it were waiting for someone or something.  Neither can I pinpoint a location where it is resting.  Stranger still, my Lords, my senses tell me that this is an evil god, but I know the evils gods on this world and I can identify their essence.  This is not one of them.  It is alien, and I am unsure.”

“Yes, Warrior we hear what you are saying, but for an evil god to arrive from another world is unthinkable.  It is also, we think, impossible.  We agree with you that if this is a god then he is more evil and powerful than Dark Storm.  It is emitting evil at an enormous rate, as if it is becoming stronger by the moment.”

Warrior shook his head.  “In any other case, my Lord, I would tell the gods of this danger, but what can I tell them?  I don’t want to start panic in the realms, but at the same time I think they should be informed.  Unless I can actually see what Midgard and the gods are up against, there is nothing I can say to them.  They know that my senses do not lie; and now is not the time for stupid rhetoric.  Should I wait until it becomes plainer?  Or should I tell the gods to tighten security, knowing that I will be ridiculed for not giving them enough information?”

“We, the Creators, think that after the trouble with the Sorcerer, the gods will be happy to receive all the information they can get, however vague.  Before the Sorcerer, no mortal ever came so close to them with the intention of doing them harm.  It might be wise to inform them of impending danger, and tell them that as soon as you know more you will inform them of your findings.  Until you discover what you are up against, you can do no more.  Perhaps this power will take a different course and the balance will be restored.  Perhaps we may not need to fear its evil.”

The creators left, and Warrior was alone once more, although he knew that the Valkyrie was close.  “I have to talk with the gods, Valkyrie,” Warrior announced, and then he faded.

* * * * *

Warrior appeared outside the Well of Urd, and Lord Odin called to him as soon as he had fully materialised.  “Warrior, enter.  Is this a courtesy call, or have you reason for this visit?”

“Yes, my Lord.  I have been standing outside the cave these past few days, and I have sensed an intense evil.  I cannot say what generates it, and neither do I know exactly where it is.  It has not moved from the mountains where I first sensed it, but it is real.  The only time I have ever felt evil coming close to this was Dark Storm.  The evil and danger that I sense is only a little less than, dare I say, the Warlock.”

Lord Forsetti rose from his seat.  He shouted, “If it is everything you say, then why have you not gone in search of it?”

“My Lord, I have just told you that it is on the mountains.  My senses pick up a single intensity, but no more.  Where would I search, and how would I recognise it if I found it?”

“Then what is the point of telling us this news, Warrior, if you have no idea what it is?”  Lord Thor sat back in his seat.

“My Lord, forewarned is forearmed.  I feel this may be like an evil god, and one with power far superior to the gods we know.”

Lord Forsetti jumped up again, shouting, “That idea is preposterous.  Adjust your thinking, Warrior, and then apologise to the gods for suggesting that one of them has changed to the dark side.”

“I will not apologise for something I have not done.  I said that it was like an evil god, and the powers it possesses are immense.  And yet, my Lord, I know that it is not any of Midgard’s evil gods from the Underworld.”

Lord Thor asked incredulously, “Are you trying to tell the gods that this evil is a god from another world?  Ridiculous.”

As Thor sat down, Warrior could see that he was not laughing, but at the same time he was trying to belittle Warrior’s warning.

“My Lord Thor, I am sure that you and I had this same conversation before.  I will tell you now that when I passed this idea in front of the Creators they did not make light of it.  I believe that something was said like your remark when I spoke of the Warlock, who was a danger to the whole of Midgard.

“I also believe that the Sorcerer collected most of his power from a cloud that arrived from beyond this world.  The Sorcerer was, if I remember correctly, only a footstep away from the realms and a real threat to the gods.  I have no idea what evil is sitting on the mountain, but I honestly believe that it is not of this world.

“I was hoping that Asgard would send messengers to the other realms warning them of this uncertain impending danger.  However, I see that I might have to send my Valkyrie to do their work.  I take the defence and security of the gods and the world below seriously, because if the gods in their entirety are not pulling their oars together, then the ship will sink.”

Lord Thor was about to stand again, but the thundering voice of Odin called, “Sit down, Lord Thor.”

Lord Heimdall stood up.  “I understand what you are saying, Warrior, and as we are speaking the lookouts are being briefed.  I have also sent heralds out to the other realms.  Warrior, may I suggest that if this evil is from another world, then perhaps after such a long journey it is disoriented and confused.  That might be the reason it has not yet moved.”

“Thank you, my Lord, and your suggestion has not fallen on deaf ears. That may well turn out to be the reality of the situation.  I think that I must seek further advice, because as we speak this entity or whatever it is still has not moved.”  Warrior then looked at Lord Odin.  “With your permission, my Lord?”

“Yes, Warrior, go with the gods’ blessings.”

Warrior faded into the mists of time and re-appeared on a mountain.  For once, he had managed to transport to precisely where he intended to go, and he was outside the cave he sought.

“Enter, Warrior.  We have been expecting you.”

With no hesitation, he walked inside and sat down where the old woman indicated.

“The evil is on the surface and resting, but it will only be for a short while.  It is re-forming into the being it once was.  Yes, Warrior, it is a being, and powerful.  If not for an unseen accident he would be the god of his own world by right of conquest.  The Creators know of this being, but they will not have expected it to be here.  It is not written in the pages of time.  In fact, it will not be found in any of the pages available to us, but you know of a place where the scribe knows all the secrets.  On this subject we can tell only of shadows, and of the present and future we have no knowledge.”

At this point, Warrior realised that the audience with the two Sisters of Knowledge was over, and it had left him more confused than he was before he arrived.  He left the cave and faded, reappearing in a desert by a small complex of tents.  With one step he was inside, walking towards the dim light.

“Welcome, Warrior.  Sit down and we will talk.”

“Thank you, Oracle.  I believe you know my quest.”

The girl looked down at a star plan on her desk.  “Some many thousand years ago, there was a world not unlike your own.  It was heading for a fall, because the good gods had lost control.  There was a bad god, but not just bad like Loki that you know so well.  This god was evil and fiendish.  His intelligence went far beyond the other gods, and he was far more dangerous than Dark Storm before the good gods arrived.  The thinking was by the Creators that the good gods had let them down and were to be punished.  It was because of the far-reaching damage on the surface of this world.

“However, before the Creators had a chance to vent their anger, something most unusual happened.  The largest of the world’s moons left its orbit and fell.  In minutes, it impacted on the surface, and in the blink of an eye the world disintegrated.  All that was left was dust and debris and a few pieces of rock no bigger than meteorites, a few lifeless balls of rock drifting through space.

The Creators were satisfied, despite the carnage.  Justice had been served, and they stepped back.  It was over, they thought, but not one of them realised that there was still evil, the real evil, hiding in the midst of the destruction.  With so much evil on that world, its power was masked, and no one thought to check more carefully.  The evil god was still alive and was clinging to one of the larger fragments of rock, hoping that sooner or later it would come within the magnetic pull of another world.  Indeed, that cloud of meteors passes close to the Earth every year, and this year he was lucky.  Now this evil god is on your world.  His name is Lord Sabre, and his powers are immense.”

“What trouble will he cause on Earth?”

“He will not be content with mischief and trivialities.  His plan is to start where he left off on the world called Maya.”

The girl saw Warrior’s expression change, and she added, “Yes, Warrior.  You know the name, and yes you are right: they are one and the same.  The Creators realised there might be life remaining on the larger fragments that remained of the world.  They were too late to recognise the evil, but there was a very large section that not only remained in one piece but also retained its atmosphere, for a while at least.  By chance, there were mortals on it who had held onto their faith and obedience to a god who had avoided evil.  The Creators rescued them, erased their memory of the old world, and found a new home for them.  You have spoken to this old god on many occasions, and she will always help Warrior.”

Warrior understood.  He knew this ‘old god’ well, and he knew that he would need to find her once more.  “How can I destroy the evil god, Oracle?”

“You cannot, Warrior.  It is not within your capabilities to destroy him.  There is only one person that can destroy him, and her creator will inform her of her task.  Even so, she cannot do it alone.  She will need your help and the assistance of others, if she is to have any hope of success, and it will take time.  Fortunately, for Lord Sabre to gain entry to the realms will be far more difficult for him than when he tried it with his own world.  Be under no illusion, Warrior.  This will not be a quick fight.  Lord Sabre is better prepared than Palandrake ever was.  This is a real god, and he will have the full force of the evil gods helping him once he offers to split the spoils.

“As we talk, Warrior, he is gaining entry into the Outer World and he has already stepped out of the Spire of Time.  He is still in disarray, collecting his thoughts, but he grows stronger all the time.  He is summoning the Underworld, and they hear him and many will heed his call.  Oberon will command thousands of bad Elves from throughout the realms, and he will not hesitate to join this new, powerful evil.  Lord Sabre will need to control all six Keys to gain entry to the realms, or at least the majority of them.  Three Keys, or less, is not an option for him.

“Our trump card is Marina, and it is she who will make the play.  You must listen to what she says.  Without you, this battle will be lost, and without Marina, it is pointless starting.”

The girl fell silent, and Warrior realised that his audience with the Oracle was over.  He stood up.  “May your Creators always be with you, Oracle.”

“May the Creators be with you, Warrior.”

Moments later, Warrior was back in the mists of time, and then making another appearance at the Council of Gods.  Once given the floor, he told the gods all he had been told about this new evil, and, as he had expected, there were expressions of dismay and even of fear.

“Warrior,” Lord Thor spoke.  “You must go to the Battle Warrior to the Gods, Marina, and give her instructions on this task she must already know is hers.”

“My Lord, I cannot tell Marina anything.  You must have heard what I said?  Marina will decide, and she will lead, and she will need help.  If she needs an army, then she shall have an army, but that decision is for her and for her alone.  I cannot defeat this evil god, whatever resources are put at my disposal.  I have neither the knowledge nor the weapons.”

“Then why is she not already here and telling us her plans?”

“I have no idea, my Lord Thor, but I would imagine that she will not be outlining her plans to anyone.  I doubt that she will even tell me everything, although I must be part of whatever she needs to do.”

Lord Forsetti stood up.  “There you are wrong, Warrior.  If this Council of Gods demand that she informs us, then she will do so or be punished.”

“My, Lord Forsetti, if you wish to punish her it will be so, but I would like to remind you of the last big silence and its consequences.  Also, if this god is as powerful as we believe, then most likely he will be aware of everything that is said here, so if Marina were to speak out loud to the gods of her plans, she might just as well walk out of these Council chambers and never return.  At this moment we have no idea what this evil god can do and what he cannot do, so it makes sense to assume the worst and to take every precaution.”

Lord Thor was about to jump up and disagree, but he thought better of it.  “Point taken, Warrior.  I agree with you entirely, but do you have any idea when we might expect her?”

“The Creators know all that you know, my Lords, so I would think that she is being briefed as we speak.”

* * * * *

Marina was indeed just being briefed by her Creator.

“Marina if you are unsure and need help, I am but the blink of an eye away.  There is no shame in asking me for help as you are learning your trade.  Mistakes are expected, but you will not make the same mistake twice.  You must remember, Marina, that you can wield more power than all the gods in the Universe put together.  How you choose to wield it is what you are learning.  Already you know all that I know, and as I learn so too do you.  You are an extension of me, and I will never leave you wanting.”

“Thank you, my Lord.  I will try to live up to the trust you have in me.”

“My blessings are with you and Brandon.”

The Creator faded, and Marina appeared in the Outer World by the Twin Falls.  Brandon, Drusilla and Topaz were with her, and she examined the ground as if looking for tracks.

“There has been no movement here for a long time, so I conclude that if Lord Sabre has help from the Underworld already then it has not passed through these gates.  We will carry on to the Drinking Cup of the Gods and stay there for the evening.  It will be a good place to wait for Warrior.”

* * * * *

As Warrior was talking to the gods on other matters, one of the Valkyrie appeared.

“My Lord, the Battle Warrior to the Gods, Marina, has been seen at the Twin Falls at the End of the World.”

“I would have thought Marina would have come to see the gods first,” said Lord Heimdall.

“I am sure that once she has something to tell you, my Lords, she will be here.  She has not changed her ways.  She takes care of business first, and then explains her actions.  She will know that I have been briefing the gods, because her Creator would have told her, my Lord.”

Warrior took his leave from the gods and appeared by the Twin Falls at the End of the World.  He knew that Marina would go to the Drinking Cup of the Gods for the evening.  On seeing her, he dismounted and walked over.

“Warrior, I have given you Avalon, Star and Cloud, as your personal Valkron.  This Lord Sabre will have a small army with him tomorrow, because I know that Oberon is on the move.  His army is even bigger this time and will not be taking any chances.  I know from the other realms that he has a mixed race of bad Elves.  His army will be upward of five thousand.  All the evil gods are going out of their way to help Lord Sabre, so you too must command a substantial army of Elves and Fairies.  I have assembled them ready to be here on my command.  If we need to talk of plans, Warrior, I can place a shroud of secrecy around us so that no one hears, not even our own Creators, although they will be able to read the plan because we are part of them.  Hopefully this god does not have the ability to read minds, but we must be aware of that possibility.  My senses tell me there are many things he can do that we would have thought impossible.”

“We will go and see the Elves in Elfdom castle at first light to pick up part of your army.  Then, as we did in the last war in the Outer World, we will enlist the fairies from the Forest of Secrets.  It will be nice to see Sand Piper and his wife again.”

Warrior thought about Marina’s words but said nothing.  He accepted that she knew what she intended to do, and that she should have full control of where and when the action should take place.  Warrior was simply a warrior and fought battles with the sword, but Marina was a Battle Warrior and used her powers directly at the evil.  Warrior knew that she would have to be at her best to defeat this god.

* * * * *

Nights were short in the Outer World, and it was not long before they were both riding towards Elfdom castle.  Once at the gate it was the same fiasco.

“Hello, who are you?  State your business.”

“I am Marina, and I would like to speak with your Queen, Queen Amelia.”

“How do I know that you’re telling the truth?”

“Stick your head over the top and take a look.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.  I have a job of high importance.”

“Would you please just go and tell the Queen that I am waiting outside the gate.”

“There you go again, telling me what to do.”

“Grenfeld, just go and do as I ask.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I am Marina, and of course I know your name.”

“Well, ok.  I never realised you were that Marina.  Open the gate!” he shouted.  “Marina to see the Queen.”

Marina was going to ask him how many Marinas he knew, but she knew that you could argue with Grenfeld forever and not make any progress.  He had a strange type of logic and a very bad memory.

The Queen came out of the main doors, and shouted, “What’s all this noise?”  She looked over, and then added, “Hello, Warrior, Marina.  Do we have more trouble in the Outer World?”  She then looked up to the watchtower.  “You actually let someone through the gate on your own, Grenfeld.”

“Who did?  Call the guard and have those two Elves on the gate punished.  How dare they let people in without permission?”

The Queen was still looking at the watchtower and shook her head.  “I am not sure whether he is getting better or worse, but at times I might as well be in the watchtower myself.”

Marina informed the Queen of all that was happening, but she left out many of the main details.  If there was any chance, however remote, that Lord Sabre had the power to hear what they said, there was no point in telling him what they knew.  In any case, it was a matter of ‘need to know’, and, as well as there being little point in worrying the Queen more than necessary, much of the information she simply did not need to know.

It was not long before Warrior and Marina left, with an army of two thousand Elves behind them commanded by Villias.  Warrior looked at Marina and saw the knowing smile on her face.  She had her three companions close by her side.  Warrior was to her left, just a horse’s length behind.  It felt strange to him to be letting someone else make the decisions and give the commands, but he knew it had to be this way.  This was Marina’s battle, and Warrior was there only to aid her when the need arose.

* * * * *

Marina’s army travelled far before the Forest of Secrets could be seen in the distance.  At almost the same time as they caught their first glimpses of the Forest, they saw movement ahead of them, a small army riding towards them.  Soon, it became clear that there were about five hundred Elves, and Oberon was leading them.  Oberon stopped as soon as he recognized Marina.  He waited.

“So, you are here once again, Marina, but you won’t win this time.  I have a new leader, and this one does not know the meaning of the word ‘losing’.”

Another being appeared beside Oberon.  He, too, rode a horse.  He was dressed in black, and he had short hair and short, pointed ears like the Elves.  His eyes were dark, and where there should be white was red.  He carried no weapon, but Marina knew who he was and did not expect to see one.  He was looking at Marina as he said, “So, the gods in their desperation have sent a woman to defeat me while they cower in their realms.  I will soon be in those realms, because you and your little army will not stop me.  I will soon have the means to enter the realms, and then I will be chief god of this world.”

Marina made no reply, but she gazed at Lord Sabre with a knowing smile on her face.

“You do not scare me, woman.  I will push you aside with my powers, because I am the ultimate power in the universe.  Even the Creators fear me.  They once tried to destroy me, but they failed as anyone who tries again will fail.  I am a survivor; I am destined to live forever.

“I understand why you are not speaking.  My awesome power is intimidating you, and although you can already feel it, I shall give you a more practical demonstration.  I will send ten of your Elves back to the castle.  Would you like to see that?”

Marina spoke for the first time.  “Try that trick with my Elves, and I will send all five hundred of your Elves back to the Underworld, and you won’t be able to use them for ten days afterwards.”

As she spoke, Lord Sabre smiled and replied, “You will lose a lot of Elves proving that theory,” and as he spoke the bad Elves were drawing their swords.  “I think it is well worth the sacrifice.”  He pointed at ten of the elves behind Marina and they disappeared, along with their horses.  He laughed out loud.  “Shall we start the battle now?”

Oberon laughed at that question, along with Lord Sabre.

Marina asked softly, “Who is going to fight for you?” and she clicked her fingers.  At once, all Oberon’s Elves disappeared, and when she clicked her fingers again, her own ten Elves reappeared.  Oberon and Lord Sabre turned and saw their Elves disappear, and it clearly startled them.

“Now,” said Marina, “I suggest you both toddle off back from the hole you crawled out of and get out of my way.  One more thing before you go, Oberon.  I think you will look nice dressed in an opal.”

“You cannot destroy me, witch.  I am King of the Fairies and leader of the Elves.”

“You are quite correct, Oberon.  I cannot destroy you, but I can imprison you in an opal.  That, as you well know if you think about it, is well within my powers.  Perhaps, I could give the opal to one of your Elf friends to look after, and I am sure you have so many who would be only too pleased.”  Then, saying no more, Marina gazed at them both with the knowing smile on her face.

Lord Sabre was fuming.  He shouted, “You will not use that party trick on me again, Witch.  I will not be denied what is rightfully mine by conquest.  Oberon, make your army appear once more.”

“I cannot, my Lord.  The witch has sent them back to the Underworld, and they will be there for ten days.”  Lord Sabre turned his horse and rode off, followed a few seconds later by Oberon.

Then as if nothing had happened, Marina continued forward at the head of her army.

A little later, as they approached the edge of the Forest of Secrets, Marina beckoned to Warrior to move his horse forward beside her.

“I am going over to see Sand Piper.  Take charge of the army, Warrior.”

Without another word, Marina she rode her horse towards the Forest of Secrets, and Warrior saw Sand Piper come out to meet her.

“Sand Piper, is your priest available?  I wish to converse with the gods.”

“Yes, Marina....”  He was about to say more, but Marina put her finger to her lips.  She watched as he called an old fairy across.  “Marina wishes to go to the temple to converse with the gods, Wind Bender.”  As he spoke, Marina dismounted.

The priest just nodded and walked away with Marina following.  He led her to a building with a strangely tiled roof, looking much like an old Chinese design.  Wind Bender opened the door and let her in, closed it behind her and stood guard outside.  At the end of the building there was a memorial plaque on which were inscribed the names of all the Elves that had fallen in past battles.  Before it, on a table, was a golden bust of a goddess.  Marina walked up to the table and picked up the bust.  She turned it on its side to look underneath, and a wave of her hand made the bottom of the little statue slide open.  The interior was hollow, and empty except for a single gold coin.  Marina took the coin and sealed the base of the statue once more, placed it down on the table and then made her way out of the building.

Outside, still clutching the coin, Marina walked to her horse.

“I have changed my mind about talking to the gods.  I see that you have your army ready, Sand Piper, so we might as well be on our way.”

Marina mounted her horse, and she rode out of the Forest of Secrets at the head of the small army of Fairies.  They joined up with rest of the army and headed south towards the Spire of Time.

To all those that are not familiar with the Outer World, it is a duplicate of the world below but it is flat, and you can, indeed, fall of the end of it.  Whatever features are in the world below, like mountains and seas, there is a corresponding feature in the Outer World.  The only thing that never corresponded to anything on the Middle World was the Spire of Time, and that was because it was the start of the Stepping Stones to the Gods.  Time and distance had no meaning, with each being and person making their own.  This would also be a good time to note that the Fairies and Elves in this story are the same size as human adults.

It was a long time before Marina brought the army to a halt.  “We will rest here for the night, and I will draw up plans of where we are going next, and how.”

On hearing this, Hild went off to the gods to report.

“Warrior, I will be back in a short moment.”  Marina faded into the mists of time, where she was met by her Creator.

“My Lord, I bring you this for safekeeping.”  She held out her hand with the gold coin in the palm.  As she did so, the coin disappeared.

“You have done well, Marina.  Does Warrior know of this coin?”

“No, my Lord.  What they don’t know they cannot talk about, and I realise my Lord that the Keys will have to be fought for.  Neither will I be telling the gods of what I have achieved.  I don’t want the gods thinking that just because I have one coin it means that it is all over.  I only managed to get that one through trickery.”

“You are correct, Marina, as there would be no point of giving out too much information.  Even if you get all but one, there will still be a big battle at the end.  Lord Sabre will not give up without a fight.”

“I think, my Lord, that Lord Sabre has no idea where the Keys are.  If he did, the Keys would not be there now.  He has ridden past them with five hundred bad Elves led by Oberon, and if he had known where they were hidden he would not be bothering me with silly games of magic.  One good thing did come out of our meeting, though.  He might have been powerful on Maya, but here in Midgard’s Outer World his power is lacking.”

“Yes, Marina, I sense the very same, but still there is a power within him that must not to be taken lightly.  We, the Creators, have studied him, and know that he has no way of hearing what you say from a distance when you have your protective barrier around you.”

* * * * *

The gods had heard the Valkyrie’s account of what had taken place, and she was standing waiting for further orders.

Lord Forsetti rose from his seat and shouted angrily, “Marina was within a few paces of this evil god.  Why didn’t she destroy him?  Why does she persist in these games?  Neither do I understand why Warrior sat there and let her do it without saying something.”

The Goddess Jord stood up.  “I think, my Lord, that if had been possible for her to do what you say, she would have done it.”

Lord Thor was on his feet as soon as the goddess sat down.  “As they are resting for the night, I think it might be a good idea if we call Marina here and ask her to explain what she is doing.  Why did she say she was going to talk to the gods if she had no intention of doing so?  If she is so uncertain of her plans that she says she has to converse with the gods, then why is she in charge of the army?  I think that as of tomorrow morning Warrior should be in charge of the army.  At least he is a warrior that we can trust to do the task he is set by us.”

“I think my Lord Thor is correct, and we should get Marina here to inform her of our plans for Warrior to take over the army.”  Lord Forsetti looked around, and asked, “Is anyone against this idea?”

The Goddess Jord stood up, and said, “Yes, I am against the idea, and I think that you, Lord Forsetti, and you, Lord Thor, are out of order.”  The Goddess Frig stood up and whispered in her ear, and they both sat down together.

Lord Odin looked at the Valkyrie and told her, “Ask Marina to come here at her convenience sometime this evening.”  The Valkyrie faded.

When in the Outer World, she relayed Odin’s message to the Valkron, and Brandon told Marina.

Marina had her knowing smile on her face, and replied, “Inform the gods that I will see them shortly, as first I need to prepare the Army.  Marina clicked her fingers, and another three thousand Fairies and Elves appeared.  She told them all to be quiet and to listen to her.

“Thank you for joining this army.  We are now powerful enough to defeat this Lord Sabre.  As you know, he is a powerful god who carries evil magic with him.  It is for that reason I am now going to give each one of you a special pentagon star.  This is a talisman, and it is more powerful than any of his magic.  You will not be able to lose it because it will be impressed on your foreheads.  This will ward off any evil spell or magic that Lord Sabre throws at you.” Marina then lifted her hands, and on each of their foreheads appeared the star, measuring one centimetre in size from each point of the star to the one opposite.

Marina turned, and said, “I have to go and brief the gods, Warrior.  Would you look after the army until my return.”

He watched her fade into the mists of time.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Marina-Battle-Warrior-Ian-Johnstone-ebook/dp/B00I8Q1OKI/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1392130178&sr=1-5 

Ukraine Architecture and Buildings

Yes here I am again with more pictures of my favorite pastime. I think that some of the best and most beautiful buildings and structures are found in the east of Europe. I can look at these pictures for hours at a time checking the intricate design and carvings. The further I go into eastern Europe the more intricate the buildings. I have found more to add to my collection in the Ukraine, and i am in no doubt there are more to find.

Opera_House_Odessa

St Nicholas_Cathedral_Kiev

St Sophia_ Cathedral_Kiev 

St Michael's _ Golden Domed _ Cathedral _Kiev

St Andrews _ Church in _ Kyiv

The _Lviv _Opera _House

Odessa_opera _Theatre

Vorontson _Palace_ at the Foot Of the Criamean _ Mountains

Vorontson _Palace_Northern _ENtrance

Fine and Beautiful Chinese Architecture

I have a love of all old architecture no matter what country it is in. I have never liked square flat buildings with a roof that is bland and basic. These are a few of my favorite styles, with architecture that was designed and built by craftsmen that are ling dead.

North Eastern Corner of the Forbidden City

The Forbidden City

The Forbidden City

Beijing _ Forbidden _City

The _  Forbidden _ City _ Guardian_ Lions

The _ Forbidden _ City _Throneroom

The _ Forbidden_ City _ Shenwumen_ Gate_ 2

Gugong _5

Nine_Dragons

High _ Status _ Roof  _Decoration

UK Nurses

It has been just under twelve months since I returned home from having the mini stroke. It was in hospital where I was humbled by the nurses both male and female on Botolphs Ward [Acute Stroke Ward] Worthing Hospital. I don’t think that any one of us appreciate these hard working angels until we are in desperate need of them

Florence Nightingale

Without their encouragement and dedication and determination to putting my mind back together, my writing days would be over. When my mind was confused and full of questions, I was told the answers without asking. I found comfort in knowing that there was always a nurse just a press of the button away. During the silent hours these same nurses would walk to the end of my bed to give me reassurances that they are still keeping vigil.

Nightingale 

[Receiving the wounded at Scutari]

I am thankful to the occupational therapy unit for teaching me to use my left arm and hand once more. This same unit taught me to walk and to regain my balance, and without their help my independence would have been lost forever. I have been visited at home by these same people checking to see if I am coping with the problems of everyday life, and thanks to them and their teams I am.

Florence Nightingale

[Stained glass window at St Peters]

None of us know what we have until we lose it, minor skills like eating with a knife and fork, Concentration, being able to wash ourselves or shave. Walk to the toilet that is only five steps from my bed unaided. I will be forever thankful for their unconditional kindness of the like I have never felt before. I pray that god looks over each and every one of them. They alone have earned my gratitude for just being themselves.

Be well Ian

The Dunce at the back of the class, [William] CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

The snow had been falling heavily, and now the drifts had reached the window ledges of the small cottage by the side of the main road to London.  Many feared that it would be a repeat of the terrible weather they had suffered earlier that year when transport links across much of the country had been completely cut, supplies were non-existent in many areas, and power supplies were irregular at best and, at worst, left whole communities without electricity for days.

It was December 1947, and into the fear and concern, William was born unplanned and unwanted in that cottage in the West Midlands.  Kit, his father, had made it clear to his wife Doris that he did not want any more children.  One, Bobby, born fifteen months earlier, was wanted and loved.  A second, William, was a mistake, an irrelevance, as far as his father was concerned.  Given the opportunity, William would have been aborted, but the old wives’ tale of the effects of gin proved to be ineffective, much as Kit took the opportunity to buy as much of it as he could afford on his meagre wages and made sure his wife drank it.

Kit was angry.  He had been particularly angry since Doris’s second month of pregnancy when she had told him after three years of marriage that she was expecting their second child, but his anger went far further than the festering, twisted resentment he felt because she had dared to conceive a child without his permission, although that particular rage would not show for many years.  He was angry at his inconsequential life, angry at his country that had forced him to endure the horrors of military service in the Second World War and, above all, he was angry at the way he had been treated, brought up unloved by a father who seemed unable to give him anything he really needed.

William’s mother named him.  His father took no interest in him at all, and openly disapproved of the love that Doris gave the boy.  He always considered William to be unplanned and unwanted, although he never openly admitted it, not even to his wife.

William’s older brother Bobby would be the one his father would nurture.  He had been planned and wanted; William was neither.

* * * * *

William was born in a small, red brick bungalow.  By today’s standards it was very basic, with three rooms that had one window each, the living room in the centre being the largest.  There was a front door, a very small front porch, and floors made from the cold stone from the Forest of Dean.  There was no electricity or running water.

The living room also doubled as a kitchen.  Opposite the door in an alcove was a large, black fireplace, a grate for the fire in the centre of it with a small oven either side.  There was plenty of room behind and to the side of the fire.  In the middle of the room was a large pine table with four chairs.  All the cooking and preparation of food was done in that room, as was the socialising.  Either side of the living room was a bedroom, but at night these rooms were dark and had no heating at all other than what little warmth might come from the fire in the living room.

There was a small triangle of grass in front of the house that ended at the porch.  A path led from the gate to the porch, made from that unusual pinkish stone from the Forest of Dean.  There were vegetable growing in the garden, planted by William’s father, but they were hidden from view by the border of flowers, and by the front door there was a large rose bush.

* * * * *

By the time William was four, his father seemed to have accepted him in a way.  He said nothing more about William, simply keeping at a distance and when he had to mention William to Doris, Kit always referred to him as “your child” or “your boy.”  William, at that age, noticed nothing unusual.  In his innocence, he simply accepted the way things were.

It was also during those first four years of William’s childhood that his mother gave birth to two girls.  One was planned, but the other, like William, was not, and because of the twisted logic in their father’s mind, William was to take the blame and punishment not only for his own birth but also for that of his unwanted sister.

* * * * *

Just before William’s fourth birthday, dark clouds gathered over their little bungalow.  The storm passed quickly, and as the clouds receded into the distance, the sun shone in a brilliant blue sky above them and William watched from just inside the front door.

Doris saw her son gazing out into the front garden and paused her housework to stand by him for a moment.

“Look William,” she told him.  “There’s a rainbow.  They say that wherever the rainbow ends there will be a pot of gold left by the little people.”  She then went about hanging her washing on the line to dry, and soon returned into the house and left William in the garden to play.

William was still out at midday, as he often was when the weather was fine and not too cold.  He was sitting near the front door with his little spade and saw his father coming down the garden path from the gate towards him.  It was not unusual for his father to return from work at the nearby farm several times every day.  He normally came back for his meals and whenever he had a break.

This time, however, Kit did not walk past William, ignoring him.  He stopped.

“What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“I’m looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Dad,” William answered innocently.

“Doris!” Kit called angrily.  “That boy of yours has dug the roses up looking for a pot of gold.”

William’s mother came out straight away and took William inside to clean him up without a word, and as William waited for his dinner, his father replanted the rose bush.

Kit stood by the side of the table, glaring at William.  “Why the hell did you think you’d find a pot of gold there?”

“Because the rainbow ended on top of the rose”

Truthfully, William believed he would find a pot of gold, although he had no idea what a pot of gold would look like.  From what his mother had said, it sounded as though it was something good, but it had not occurred to him to ask.  Explanations of anything to William were few in that house; he usually had to find out for himself when he wanted to know something.

It was not too much of a surprise when he received neither an explanation about the pot of gold now nor an explanation for his father’s annoyance with him.  “You are a stupid boy.”

* * * * *

William’s mother made the effort to teach William how to count and to write his alphabet by the time he was due to go to primary school at the age of four and a half.  He was proud of his achievement, but when he told his father what he could do, Kit turned away and ignored him completely.  At the same time, William’s brother, now nearly six years old, sneered at him as though this new skill of William’s was unimportant.  Although Bobby probably did not realise it, he had quickly learned to copy his father’s attitude towards William, and frequently adopted that look of contempt for William that only his father could equal.

It was shortly after William started at school that his life turned from bad to worse.  He and his brother slept in the bedroom on the left of the house, sharing a big double bed with William sleeping on the side nearest the door.  They both went to bed at about five in the evening, before their father returned from work at six.  Like all children of that age, they would usually play on the bed or talk and laugh for some time after they went to bed.

He and his brother had returned home from school one day, had something to eat, and were now in bed, talking.

“Be quiet, you boys,” their mother called to them.  “Your father will be home from work soon.”

Although both boys had seen their father’s moods and his frequent derision of William, neither of them had ever seen their father really angry.  They ignored the warning from their mother, and they were still playing, talking and giggling when their father came home from work.

He heard them as soon as he came in, but there was something different in his tone when he shouted at them: “You two boys had better go to sleep and give me rest.”

The boys hid their heads under the thick Eider-duck-down quilt on the bed, still talking and laughing, and thinking they could not be heard.

There was a crash as the door of their room was flung open and slammed against the wall.  Both boys lifted their heads above the quilt and stared towards the doorway in alarm.  The door was wide open, and silhouetted in the lamplight of the living room was the dark figure of their father.  His contorted face was partially hidden by the long shadows of his features.  The white staring eyes could be seen as if they were alight, as he shouted, “I told you boys to be quiet and you didn’t listen to me.  You had to be naughty and disobey me.”

Neither of the boys had seen their father like this before.  They were frightened, not knowing what was about to happen.

Kit walked over to the bed and threw back the covers.  He grabbed William by the wrist pulling him roughly from the bed.  Once William’s feet touched the floor, his father bent him over the side of the bed.  Taking hold of both William’s wrists in one hand he held them together in the small of his back, pulled down William’s pyjama trousers and violently beat William’s buttocks for several minutes.

William was screaming, “Please, Dad,” between the tears and cries of pain.  “Mum, help me.”  “Where are you, mum?”

Doris was in the living room, crying as she listened to her youngest boy being thrashed.  She knew there was nothing she could do to help him.  Perhaps she was also afraid of him, but first and foremost, in Doris’s eyes, Kit was head of the family and the one who put food on the table for all of them.  Her marriage vow taken in church before God was to obey him, and she would not break that vow.

Kit was deaf to William’s cries.  He stopped beating him only when his anger subsided, and then he threw William onto the bed and ordered him to cover himself.  He then took Bobby by the wrist, but instead of thrashing him in the same way, he and gave him a few smacks on his buttocks and then also threw him on the bed.

“Let that be a lesson to both of you,” their father told the two boys, but William had noticed that the few smacks his brother had received were not even enough to bring a tear to his eye.

This was the first of many thrashings William received from his father.  At the slightest excuse, Kit would go into the boys’ room and inflict his brand of cruel, barbaric justice on the mainly blameless boy.  On many nights, William’s cries of pain could be heard after that first beating he received.  Sometimes the beating would be by William’s father’s hands, or sometimes it would be with a leather belt.  Kit’s brutality seemed to be driven by something far deeper than his need to punish the boy for every misdemeanour of which he believed William to be guilty.  Doing it because Kit was head of the family and therefore judge, jury and enforcer of justice was only a pretext, as if that was not bad enough.  Kit’s motives went far deeper than that; it was revenge for what his wife had done in giving birth to this child and, as much as Doris suffered to hear her child being punished, it was also directed at William for being born.

In fact, Kit detested the thought of any woman being beaten by a man, and he would never have considered raising his hand against his wife.  She had given birth to two children he had not asked for or wanted, and now it was up to him to feed and clothe them.  Somehow, in that twisted mind, by punishing William, Kit was punishing his wife for giving birth to William and now, just a few months previously, also for giving birth to William’s younger sister.  The anger at this disobedience of Doris’s was now vented on the helpless boy after fermenting for five years in Kit’s twisted mind.

Bobby was also punished when the boys did wrong or in some way annoyed their father, but the smacks he administered to his eldest child were fewer and lighter.

* * * * *

At the breakfast table on the morning following that first beating, the boys were sitting waiting to eat when Bobby said, “William wet the bed last night.”

Their mother did not say a word.  She watched her husband intently, but although he was listening to the boys, he said nothing either.  The two boys finished their breakfast in silence.

That night, William and Bobby lay awake in bed with thoughts of the previous evening’s punishment in their minds, and both determined not to give their father reason to punish them again.

The door flew open, and they both stared in horror at the silhouette in the doorway.  This time, they could see that their father had his wide leather belt in his hands.  For a moment, William thought that his father had come in to check that they were both asleep, but he was soon disillusioned.

As he had worked alone all that day, Kit had been thinking about everything happening in his life that was beyond his control.  Most of all, he thought about the two unplanned children he was obliged to feed and care for.  His wife had to be punished for her defiance of him, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.  Waves of uncontrollable rage coursed through him.  Yes, he had the answer.  The boy must be punished, and it was his right… no, it was his responsibility to discipline his children.

He walked over to the bed and looked down at the two boys, and there was no mistaking the blind anger in his eyes as he stared at William.  William began to tremble, knowing that something much worse than the previous night’s punishment was going to happen to him.

“So, boy, you wet the bed last night like a baby.  Well, I am going to teach you never to wet it again.  I don’t like babies that wet the bed, and tonight I will give you something to think about before you consider doing it again.”

He bent over the two boys to pull back the covers, and he dragged William from the bed.  Again, William was bent over the edge of the bed with his wrists held firmly in the centre of his back.  This time, the trousers were left on William’s lower body while his father’s other hand thrashed him with the belt.  Once again, William was shrieking and crying and calling for his mother to help him.  He heard his mother’s voice over the sound of his own screams: “Kit!” and then after a short pause, “Please?”

The thrashing stopped, although William had no idea whether it was because his father’s twisted anger had subsided or because of his mother’s intervention.  Once again the sobbing William was thrown back onto the bed, where he cried himself to sleep for the second night in a row.  Before his father left the room, he threw the covers over the boys, and the silence in the room was broken only by William’s sobbing.

* * * * *

At the breakfast table, Bobby said, “My pyjamas are wet, mum.  William wet the bed again.”  He smiled at his father as he spoke, and it would have been clear to anyone watching that Bobby was trying to show off to his father and get William into trouble at the same time.  Although it was not apparent at this stage, later in life it would become obvious that Bobby was just as twisted as Kit, and this was only the beginning of the lessons he was to learn from his father.

William had just picked up his spoon to start on his porridge.  He put it down and his hands gripped the edge of the table, and he looked at his father with an expression of fear on his face.  His father stared back, wide-eyed and expressionless.

Finally, Doris broke the silence.  “Pick up your spoon, William, and eat your breakfast.”

William picked up the spoon with shaking hands, still looking at his father’s face.  As his eyes dropped to the spoon in his hand near the dish he tried to stop the uncontrollable shaking.  The spoon touched the side of the dish, tapping in rhythm with the nervous tremble in his hand.  His mother stepped over to the table to place her hand on top of his.  He looked up at her with a tear in the corner of his eye, only to see her smile and say, “Eat your breakfast, William.  Nothing is going to happen.”

William and his brother went off to school.  When they returned, they had their evening meal and were sent to bed as usual.  William could not stop thinking about what his father might do now that he knew William had wet the bed again.  He desperately tried to keep his eyes open, watching the door and expecting that at any minute it would burst open.  Finally, tiredness got the better of him and he fell asleep.

* * * * *

A few days went by, and the two boys were playing after they had gone to bed one night.   Bobby had just tickled William, and William burst out laughing.  He stopped almost as soon as he had started, realising that making a noise would anger their father, but he was not quick enough.  The door burst open and their father was once again silhouetted against the light.  “So, you just had to disturb my rest with your playing.”

“It was William, Dad.  He was laughing.”

Yes, that was true, but what their father did not know, and did not want to know, was that Bobby had made William laugh.

The truth was that Kit really did not care.  In his twisted mind, by punishing William he was punishing Doris for having this unwanted child and his unwanted sister.  Perhaps he actually smiled at that moment, or perhaps there was some other expression on his face, but it was too dark in that room for either of the boys to see it.  He briefly glanced over his shoulder into the living room, and then he stepped over to the bed and pulled William out.

“No, Dad,” William protested.  “Bobby made me laugh, Dad.  No, please no.  Mum, help me.”

“You will get extra for trying to get your brother into trouble,” his father told him with no trace of any emotion in his voice.  “I heard one of you laugh, and it was obviously you.”

William’s cries fell on deaf ears.  Kit was thriving on the power he held over his family.

William’s mother, however, was closing her mind and ears to the pitiful pleading of her youngest son.  She cried quietly.

Once again William’s wrists were held in his father’s grasp, pushing his hands up into the small of his back.  Kit thrashed William’s buttocks with the flat of his father’s hand, but William’s cries of pain fell on deaf ears.  His father had once more turned into the uncontrollable monster oblivious to the pain of others, and his mother refused to accept what was happening.

It was a long time before Kit’s anger was sated sufficiently to cease his beating and to throw William back onto the bed.  He looked at Bobby, cowering under the quilt, but as far as Kit was concerned, his favourite son was not guilty of any crime.

“Go to sleep, Bobby.  You have school in the morning.”

Once his father had left the room, closing the door as he went, in the darkness William pulled the quilt over him and cried himself to sleep again.

The inevitable happened, and the bed was wet in the morning once more.  William’s mother noticed when she was helping him dress for school, but she said nothing.  Bobby, of course, mentioned it at the breakfast table.  He had already worked out that he was safe from his father’s wrath as long as his father had some excuse to abuse William.  Kit looked towards Doris and asked, “Is that right?”  She did not answer, but her expression said it all.

That night, as soon as William was in bed he focused his eyes on the door and strained his ears for the sound of his father coming down the path to the front door.  Bobby was already asleep when William heard the gate slam shut and, a few seconds later, the front door opened.  He then heard his mother talking to his father before it went quiet, and William knew that his father was eating the meal that William’s mother had prepared.

It remained silent for a while, and William fell asleep.  Suddenly, he was awakened as his father burst into the room and he was pulled roughly from the bed.

“I thought I told you I would teach you not to wet the bed again, but it seems as though you want to defy me.  Well, this time you had better learn your lesson, because if I have to come in here tomorrow you will get a harder hiding than you are getting tonight.”

Kit began to thrash his son with the leather belt again.

It had happened so abruptly that William was hardly awake when it started.  Even so, he began pleading for mercy and crying for his mother to come and save him from the hell his father was putting him through.  The thrashing seemed as though it would go on forever, but finally it stopped as suddenly as it had started.

“Get into bed, you bad boy.”

William lay on the bed quivering in pain and fear.  His elder brother pulled up the quilt and William closed his eyes, hearing his father leave the room and close the door, but not daring to look.  The room was in silence and total darkness once more.

William slipped out of the bed and knelt on the floor beside it, resting his arms and his head on the edge of the bed.  Tears ran down his cheeks, and he cried himself to sleep.

Some time later, William felt himself being lifted up and placed on the bed.  He opened his eyes and saw his mother looking down at him.

“Why didn’t you get into bed, William?”

“I don’t want to wet the bed again.”

With a tear in her eye, she replied, “Don’t ever be afraid of getting into bed, William.”  She pulled the quilt over him and left the room.

It was to be many years before William understood properly why his mother had not come to him when his father beat him, but even at this age he felt a deep bond with his mother and knew, somehow, that he could not blame her and she had done nothing wrong.  As for his father, his attitude was only the symptom of something much deeper, but neither he nor William would know about it until years later.

* * * * *

Several days went by before William’s father beat him again, and again it was a punishment for making a noise after the boys had gone to bed.  Afterwards, William wet the bed again, and again Bobby announced it at breakfast.

William knew he would get another thrashing that night, and it was in his mind all day at school.  He could not think of anything else except what was going to happen when he got home.  It was too much for him, and he collapsed in the classroom.  The doctor was called, and he concluded that William had suffered a traumatic experience that had caused him to have a nervous breakdown.

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