One

Wellingshire, England

Princess Gabrielle was barely six years old when she was summoned to her mother's deathbed. Escorting her was her faithful guard, two soldiers on either side, their gait slow so she could keep up with them as they solemnly made their way down the long corridor. The only sound was their boots clicking against the cold stone floor.

Gabrielle had been called to her mother's deathbed so many times she'd lost count.

As she walked, she kept her head bowed, staring intently at the shiny rock she'd found. Mother was going to love it. It was black with a tiny white streak zigzagging all around it. One side was as smooth as her mother's hand when she stroked the side of Gabrielle's face. The rock's other side was as rough as her papa's whiskers.

Every day at sunset Gabrielle brought her mother a different treasure. Two days ago she'd captured a butterfly. It had such pretty wings, gold with purple splotches. Mother declared it was the most beautiful butterfly she'd ever seen. She praised Gabrielle for being so gentle with one of God's creatures as she walked to the window and let it fly away.

Yesterday Gabrielle had gathered flowers from the hill outside the castle walls. The scent of heather and honey had surrounded her, and she thought the lovely aroma even more pleasing than her mother's special oils and perfumes. Gabrielle had tied a pretty ribbon around the stems and tried to fashion a nice bow, but she didn't know how and she'd made a mess of it. The ribbon had come undone before she handed the bouquet to her mother.

Rocks were Mother's favorite treasures. She kept a basketful that Gabrielle had collected for her on a table next to her bed, and she would love this rock most of all.

Gabrielle wasn't worried about today's visit. Her mother had promised that she wouldn't go away to heaven any time soon, and she never broke her promises.

The sun cast shadows along the stone walls and floor. If Gabrielle hadn't been on an errand with her rock, she would have liked to chase the shadows and try to capture one. The long corridor was one of her favorite places to play. She loved to hop on one foot from one stone to another and see how far she could get before falling. She hadn't made it to the second arched window yet, and there were five more windows to go.

Sometimes she closed her eyes, stretched her arms out wide, and spun and spun until she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, so dizzy the walls seemed to fly about her head.

Most of all, she loved to run down the corridor, especially when her father was home. He was such a big, grand man, taller than any of the pillars in the church. Her papa would call to her and wait until she reached him. Then he scooped her up into his arms and lifted her high above his head. If they were in the courtyard, she raised her hands to the sky, certain she could almost touch a cloud. Papa always pretended to lose his grip so that she would think he was about to drop her. She knew he never would, but she squealed with delight over the possibility. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight as he strode toward her mother's rooms. When he was in an especially happy mood he would sing. Papa had a terrible singing voice, and sometimes Gabrielle giggled and covered her ears it was so awful, but she never really laughed. She didn't want to hurt his tender feelings.

Papa wasn't at home today. He had left Wellingshire to visit his uncle Morgan in northern England, and he wouldn't be home for several days. Gabrielle wasn't concerned. Mother wouldn't die without him by her side.

Stephen, the leader of the guards, opened the door to...

 

Shadow Music by Julie Garwood
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