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Chapter 21:
Relax Edmund. This is a place out of time and space. A mere possibility. Richard stepped back and motioned for Edmund to look closer at the three headstones laid out neatly in a row before them.
Richards words didnt do much to assuage Edmunds apprehension as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked around to the front of the three headstones to read the names George Winslow Richard Winslow Edmund Winslow. Edmunds heart raced a little faster at the last one. He had Richards assurances that he wasnt yet dead, but it was still damn disconcerting to see ones own headstone.
Edmund stepped closer to the first headstone to read the inscription. The headstone was chipped and badly worn and the top of the headstone bore and elaborate, if somewhat austere, bust of their father in full military regalia. Yet again, Edmund tugged at the snugness of his own uniform. Now he was sure that Richard had placed him in it for a reason. As Edmund leaned even closer to the stone to read words, he could swear he felt the cold of the stone reach out to him and chill his soul. Edmund shuddered involuntarily as he read: George Horatio Augustus Winslow, second son of Prince Henry and Princess Eugenia. Ruler of San Cristobel 1952-1994. Husband to Charlotte. Father to Richard and Edmund. The description was factual, clinical almost like out of a textbook cold, like his father. There was no mention of Alonzo. As if he never existed, which Edmund supposed was true for his father.
Edmund stepped sideways to the second headstone. Richards. Edmund looked back questioningly at his brother. Go on. Its all right, Richard nodded. Edmund inhaled the sweet fragrance from the freshly cut flowers laid at the grave as he read: Richard George Winslow. Beloved son, brother, husband and father. Prince and leader to his people in the Principality of San Cristobel. A kind, generous and loving man. A respected and fair ruler. He was taken from us far too young and will be missed by all whos lives and hearts he touched. Esse quam videri bonus malebat. Edmund instinctively reached out and traced the outline of his brothers name. Even the inanimate stone of his headstone felt warm beneath Edmunds fingers as he lingered at the second grave.
Edmund was reluctant to look at the third headstone, but forced himself to his feet and across in front of it. The stone was new, the soil freshly dug. There were no flowers. No elaborate monuments. Edmund read: Edmund Sebastian Winslow Edmund had been named for his uncle, the first son of his grandparents, Prince Phillip and Princess Eugenia. A first son who had never ruled. Edmund had eventually come to realize that his father had meant to impress upon him that he shared his uncles destiny, and wondered, not for the first time, if his father had had anything to do with his uncles early death. Richard was right about one thing. Edmund was never capable of killing his own brother, no matter how strong the jealousy and bitterness their father had bred between them had grown.
The headstone for Edmund was smaller, insignificant even, after the grandiosity of his fathers and the gushing tribute on Richards. It was set back slightly in the shadows cast by the other two and Edmund had to really look closely to read the words. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to continue reading: Son of George. Brother to Richard and William (Alonzo). Uncle to Tammy, RJ, William and Jonathan. No heirs.
Thats it? Edmund thought. Thats the summary of my life? It struck Edmund as very sad and pathetic. No. This wasnt him. Edmunds mind refused to accept it. Edmund shook his head and stepped back from the grave. Just what was his brother trying to prove here? That Edmund hadnt accomplished anything with his life? That Edmund hadnt endeared himself to people as Richard had? Edmund was deeply disturbed by the impression that the place, the headstones had left on him, but he couldnt figure out why.
What the hell is this? What does it mean Richard? I know youre dead, brother, but isnt this all a tad morbid? I feel like Goldilocks being asked to try out burial plots This ones far too small, Edmund hopped from one gravestone to the next, this ones too big but this one is just No! Edmund stared at the new headstone to the plot he was standing on Cassie!
Chapter 21:
Relax Edmund. This is a place out of time and space. A mere possibility. Richard stepped back and motioned for Edmund to look closer at the three headstones laid out neatly in a row before them.
Richards words didnt do much to assuage Edmunds apprehension as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked around to the front of the three headstones to read the names George Winslow Richard Winslow Edmund Winslow. Edmunds heart raced a little faster at the last one. He had Richards assurances that he wasnt yet dead, but it was still damn disconcerting to see ones own headstone.
Edmund stepped closer to the first headstone to read the inscription. The headstone was chipped and badly worn and the top of the headstone bore and elaborate, if somewhat austere, bust of their father in full military regalia. Yet again, Edmund tugged at the snugness of his own uniform. Now he was sure that Richard had placed him in it for a reason. As Edmund leaned even closer to the stone to read words, he could swear he felt the cold of the stone reach out to him and chill his soul. Edmund shuddered involuntarily as he read: George Horatio Augustus Winslow, second son of Prince Henry and Princess Eugenia. Ruler of San Cristobel 1952-1994. Husband to Charlotte. Father to Richard and Edmund. The description was factual, clinical almost like out of a textbook cold, like his father. There was no mention of Alonzo. As if he never existed, which Edmund supposed was true for his father.
Edmund stepped sideways to the second headstone. Richards. Edmund looked back questioningly at his brother. Go on. Its all right, Richard nodded. Edmund inhaled the sweet fragrance from the freshly cut flowers laid at the grave as he read: Richard George Winslow. Beloved son, brother, husband and father. Prince and leader to his people in the Principality of San Cristobel. A kind, generous and loving man. A respected and fair ruler. He was taken from us far too young and will be missed by all whos lives and hearts he touched. Esse quam videri bonus malebat. Edmund instinctively reached out and traced the outline of his brothers name. Even the inanimate stone of his headstone felt warm beneath Edmunds fingers as he lingered at the second grave.
Edmund was reluctant to look at the third headstone, but forced himself to his feet and across in front of it. The stone was new, the soil freshly dug. There were no flowers. No elaborate monuments. Edmund read: Edmund Sebastian Winslow Edmund had been named for his uncle, the first son of his grandparents, Prince Phillip and Princess Eugenia. A first son who had never ruled. Edmund had eventually come to realize that his father had meant to impress upon him that he shared his uncles destiny, and wondered, not for the first time, if his father had had anything to do with his uncles early death. Richard was right about one thing. Edmund was never capable of killing his own brother, no matter how strong the jealousy and bitterness their father had bred between them had grown.
The headstone for Edmund was smaller, insignificant even, after the grandiosity of his fathers and the gushing tribute on Richards. It was set back slightly in the shadows cast by the other two and Edmund had to really look closely to read the words. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to continue reading: Son of George. Brother to Richard and William (Alonzo). Uncle to Tammy, RJ, William and Jonathan. No heirs.
Thats it? Edmund thought. Thats the summary of my life? It struck Edmund as very sad and pathetic. No. This wasnt him. Edmunds mind refused to accept it. Edmund shook his head and stepped back from the grave. Just what was his brother trying to prove here? That Edmund hadnt accomplished anything with his life? That Edmund hadnt endeared himself to people as Richard had? Edmund was deeply disturbed by the impression that the place, the headstones had left on him, but he couldnt figure out why.
What the hell is this? What does it mean Richard? I know youre dead, brother, but isnt this all a tad morbid? I feel like Goldilocks being asked to try out burial plots This ones far too small, Edmund hopped from one gravestone to the next, this ones too big but this one is just No! Edmund stared at the new headstone to the plot he was standing on Cassie!
