Isabella's Heiress (19 page)

The woman's screams reached a crescendo as rotting hands reached for her, levitating her in to the air. Whispered words spoken by the Gentle Men to Edith carried to where Emma stood but she could make no sense of them. Instead all she could do was watch helplessly as they carried her into an encroaching mist, her wails and sobs becoming more distant.

Just as she thought they were gone, one of the Gentle Men turned and limped slowly back towards the gate.

“Ehmma, ssoon this will bhee you. Wee will come for you when yhou too have failed.”

It turned and headed into the mist leaving the words to hang in the air.

“Don't worry,” whispered Emma “I won't be hiding.”

The mist disappeared into the air, leaving behind it nothing but silence.

The knock on the door that woke Emma the following morning made her heart sink. She had been lying in bed, lost in thought, following a night of broken sleep.

If what Rodolfo said was true, why have I never seen anything in the history books? Why have there never been any documentaries on TV?

Surely something as big as this couldn't have been covered up?
Her dreams had been full of images of home, Taryn and soldiers fighting in a bloody field. Now, as she got out of bed and put on a dressing gown, they had receded into the darkness along with the last of the night, the warmth of the carpet pile between her toes taking their place.

Emma walked up to the door and it opened to reveal Father Eamon standing on the other side. For the first time, she thought she saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Morning, Emma, may I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” Emma gave him a tired look as she shuffled back in to her bedroom, the sleep clinging to her eyes.

“When you are ready I think we should talk about what happened yesterday.”

“Fair enough. Let me splash some water on my face.”

Emma disappeared in to the bathroom, leaving Father
Eamon to sit on the chair by the desk. After a couple of minutes, she came out and sat on the side of the bed, her hair dripping water on to the quilt.

“So have you come to read me the riot act?”

“No, not at all. I can understand your reaction to everything you heard but what you have been told is only half the truth. Personally I feel that this is something you should have been spared whilst you were here but events seem to have conspired against me.”

Father Eamon leant forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Emma, would you tell me what this man said to you the other night?”

Emma hesitated for a second before relaying the details of the meeting with Rodolfo. Father Eamon listened intently, waiting for her to finish before responding.

“This man has only been partly honest with you. Everything he says is true and I must concede that the final part of the prophesy was known to only a few people but he has not spoken of the reasons behind what happened.”

Emma shrugged, “He said that the two families were threatened by each other's interests in Europe.”

“That is partly true but their commercial interests were a façade for their real aims. The Calabria's worked for the church as well as the Cordoban Council. They helped advance the churches aims. This was helped by the fact that a lot of their work took place in areas that the church didn't want to be seen in.

“The Robillard's were a family that rose to power through the French court. Their power was second only to the Bourbon's and some said it surpassed even that. They preferred to do their work privately, away from prying eyes. They specialised in playing one side off against another and profiting in the chaos that ensued.

“Eventually these two worlds collided in Istanbul where
the Calabria's emissary was murdered. This set into play a series of events that culminated in the battle of Dresden.”

Emma listened to what Father Eamon had to say but still her earlier doubts refused to be silenced. “I don't understand. If all this is true, why haven't I heard any of this?”

“‘Tis not surprising, this all happened so long ago. In the case of the Calabria's, it was impossible to remain unknown in a place such as Siena when you are as wealthy as they were but so long as their true mission was never uncovered, the church was happy for them to carry on making money for their own interests as well. The Robillard's were far more secretive and didn't socialise. They were known well to only a very few as they did their work through intermediaries.

“After a while, Guglielmo Calabria tired of the churches double standards. The selling of plenary indulgences, the ruthless purging of church critics along with the constant hypocrisy of senior clergy. All this became too much and he decided to stop the work that his family had done for generations.

“This caused the church to come down hard. They excommunicated the family and took all their lands but all this did was make the family more popular with the people of the street and countryside. On top of that the church had not reckoned with the business savvy of Guglielmo or for that matter, his ancestors'. They may have taken all his land but land can be bought and the family had placed money in many Florentine banks. Try what they might, the church had no way of getting their hands on it, as over time, the money had accumulated to a vast sum and the bankers were in no hurry to lose it.

“This left a vacuum that needed to be filled. Rome needed somebody to do their dirty work for them, to go where they couldn't, so they turned to the Robillard's.
Over time the family had been ingratiating themselves by donating large sums of money to the church and now they were to see a return on their investments.

“They took over the position previously occupied by the Calabria's and, to start of with, did the churches less publicised work in places like England and other areas where the Catholic faith wasn't recognised.

“However, after a few years it became obvious that they were doing more than that. Under the guidance of the Cado Angelus, they were setting themselves up as an alternative to the church but not in the way that Martin Luther or John Calvin did. They started to form secret societies around Europe, whose express aim was to prepare for the downfall of Christendom.

“The church got wind of this and managed to capture some of the Robillard's messengers. They were handed over to the inquisition and it wasn't long before they told everything they knew. It wasn't the entire story but it was enough for Rome to start further inquiries. When they realised the extent to which the Robillard's had corrupted priests and noblemen, they panicked. In their turmoil they turned to the only people who could help them. The Calabria's. It was no coincidence that the Robillard's messengers had been rebuffed in the Sienese Republic. This was the Calabria's land and people owed allegiance first to God and then to them. They were a rarity for the time, a family that was genuinely loved by the people. They looked after them, educated their children and ensured that commerce and trade was unaffected by the many vagaries which could strike a medieval state.

“Emissaries were sent, requesting Guglielmo's presence in Rome. Even after all that they had put his family through, he accepted and headed south. When he arrived, he was shocked to find a church in crisis. They were being
attacked on all sides by a strident enemy that did not fear the Pope's authority, temporal or otherwise. He agreed to come back to the church and immediately set to finding out the true size of the plot.

The Robillard's set their plans in motion. Landowners withheld money whilst priests who refused to comply with their demands were murdered, often in the most gruesome manner, as an example to others who would follow their path.

“After a while Guglielmo managed to slow them down, by both force of arms and more underhand methods but all he could do was play for time. He tried to pull in the other states to his side, but the Robillard's were expert in deception and knew the weaknesses of men only too well. Guglielmo had to work on their better nature and that was a huge task. In the end war was inevitable and when it came, it lasted for thirty years until the day that Isabella disappeared. Since then, there has been an uneasy peace between the two sides. Nothing has happened to disturb that until recently. Messengers have been seen in cities abroad and then there is you. We are not the only ones that are aware of the prophesy, the fight still continues even in this plane. The struggle for the souls of mankind continues to this day.”

Emma looked at Father Eamon, her eyes narrowing,“But if they went to war like you say they did, how come I've never come across it when I was at school or university.”

“What do you know of the Thirty Year War?”

Emma thought back to Rodolfo asking her the same question. “Nothing, but I'm guessing it lasted thirty years?”

Emma's attempt at humour was met with a wry smile from Father Eamon. “You would be correct. It was a
period when the European states from England to Italy tore themselves apart.”

Emma frowned. Whilst her history was poor, she knew that England had never been involved in a war that lasted thirty years.

Father Eamon saw the look on Emma's face and understood. “You can't remember England being involved in a thirty year war? That's not surprising; they weren't, at least not directly. The Thirty Year War took place between 1618 and 1648. The first English Civil War took place between 1642 and 1646.”

“What do you mean first civil war? You're telling me there was more than one?”

“There were three. The second took place between 1648 and 1649 and the third between 1649-1651.”

“Oh, right.” Emma wasn't convinced. She leant back against the wall as she tried to take it all in. “And I'm supposed to be the reincarnation of some woman killed back then? Nice.”

“Not just some woman. Isabella was the eldest child of Guglielmo Calabria and anointed from birth to lead her people but she rebelled against it. It would appear that she wasn't too keen on being shackled with that burden and it was only on the death of her mother that she took up her place by her father's side. There were those who thought her younger brother Allesandro should have taken that position, a woman in their eyes being no substitute when it came to leadership, and there were many plots against her which were ruthlessly exposed and put down.”

A thin smile drew itself across Emma's face. “Sounds like the law firm I used to work at.”

The clock on the wall showed eight fifty and Emma yawned as she struggled against the warmth of the room.

“I don't understand, who were the Robillard's? Why would they want to overthrow the church?”

“Theirs is a story of greed and deception. They are the earthly form of an ancient evil. One that has worked towards the downfall of man since before memory.

“They have existed in one form or another for millennia but their time coincided with a period of decreased influence for the church and their masters thought they could take advantage of this. They would have won as well, had it not been for Isabella Calabria.”

Emma's eyes narrowed. “
Are
? Don't you mean
were
?”

“No, they are still around. They are what you would call old money. Just because you do not see or hear of them on a daily basis does not mean they have gone away. But we have them well contained.

“Emma, I want you to put this to one side. I understand that what I ask seems impossible but if you fail this task, anything else will be moot.”

Emma looked around the room at all the toys and posters that had been such a comfort when she had been a child, now all they did was remind her of a better, simpler time when all she had to worry about was boys and homework. She let out a long, low sigh and looked directly at Father Eamon. “How am I supposed to put this to one side when I have people constantly reminding me about it every time I walk out of the door?”

“I understand that it won't be easy but you must do it. All that matters right now is that you pass the trial.”

“Or what, I'm stuck here for all eternity? Doesn't sound like such a bad deal from what I've heard so far.”

Father Eamon didn't react but Emma was sure she saw his pupils dilate. He shifted slightly in his seat before responding. “When Edith was removed from here, she
was taken to Newgate Gaol. She may be there a day or she may be there a decade, no one knows. The things they do there are not to be looked on lightly.”

Father Eamon's voice trailed off and for the first time, Emma sensed something other than the strength that she had come to rely on. He got up to leave, turning to Emma as he reached the door, “We should really head out to carry on with your studies.”

Father Eamon left and Emma went into the bathroom to wash. As she changed, the pictures in her mind refused to go away. By now she had learned that, unless it was raining, the temperature in the twilight plane stayed the same no matter what period of London you found yourself in. That was unless you ended up by a building on fire in which case it could get uncomfortably hot.

Emma went downstairs and found Father Eamon waiting for her in the garden. Outside the gate Emma found herself standing on a cobbled street between nondescript warehouses emblazoned with the emblem of the English East India Company. Large wooden doors and cranes hanging from windows on the two floors above them waited expectantly for deliveries of pitch, spices and cotton that would never arrive.

Father Eamon looked up and down the empty street. They were the only ones there and Emma felt like she daren't move for fear of breaking the silence.

“Come Emma, there is something I want you to see.”

Emma started to lose her feelings of anxiety as she watched the early morning sun bleed through the rooftops over Fenchurch Street. The roads here were rutted where horse-drawn omnibuses pulled their charges day after day. Pools of filthy water caused Emma to trip as she made her way along behind Father Eamon, causing her to silently
pray to one day walk out into a plane with normal roads. Somewhere she didn't run the risk of breaking her ankles every time she took a step forward.

The buildings she passed were all the same colour of greyish-black. Even now, when the sun was only just rising and no one else was on the street, Emma could see the smoke drifting across the sky. It appeared the tanneries south of the river never shut, or if they did it was only for a few hours. The fallout from this meant that soot had ingrained itself in to the brickwork of the buildings surrounding the area in an uneven coat of pollution.

Smog descended on Cheapside and Emma found herself in a pea souper. It came down so quickly that she had no time to adjust. She looked around for Father Eamon but couldn't see anything beyond the end of her arm.