‘My lord?’ Reldo stepped forward, concerned.
So Reldo knew this all along. Everyone in the palace knew this, except him. Edward got to his feet, backed away and, with the letter in hand, he dodged his mentor, darted through the door and ran outside. Once there, out in the open, under the moonlight and the stars, in the air tinged with a deathly silence, Edward kneeled, looked up, and cried as though his soul was being ripped apart.
As Reldo remembered, it was a horrible noise, a cry of sheer anguish, frustration, and loss. Reldo went up beside him, carefully taking the letter from Edward’s unresisting hand, and felt he should read it before Edward had other ideas. Edward waited, his eyes fixated on the ground.
‘He’s dead,’ Edward whimpered, still looking down.
Reldo reached forward. ‘Edward…’
‘You lied to me.’ Edward stood up, away and out of reach.
‘It happened five years ago. Your father was still very angry at the time,’ Reldo explained. ‘Please, Edward. The whole kingdom needs you.’
It was at that moment, Reldo noticed, that a spark of hatred was once again visible in Edward’s eyes as he regarded his surroundings, unable to speak in his anger. His first thoughts were of revenge, of breaking those who had hurt him. He closed his eyes. He wanted no distractions. He had had enough.
‘My lord?’
Edward opened his eyes, turned to him, and said softly, ‘He’s dead.’
It was not revenge that he chose, in the end. He knew that no amount of killing, or torturing of priests, would bring his lover back or undo the past. He knew that, if he struck now, he would be struck in return. Revenge was not the way forward. The cycle must be broken, and someone had to give. He looked around him: the village, the prison, Reldo, and the wilderness in the north. What a horrible world.
19-Aug-2010 16:41:20
- Last edited on
22-Sep-2013 18:49:55
by
Englishkid62