“Dear Christ Jesus, please bless and keep Goldach as he begins his career in diplomacy. Help him to hold his tongue, and learn your ways. Dear Jesus, help him to always remember to speak French and befriend King Henry. In the name of the Green Man and his Bride,” Amen.
Goldach wanted to speak out again but wanted more to avoid Coventina’s wrath.
“Now you say ‘Amen.’ When the prayer is finished, you invoke the ancient tribal deity of the Jews. His name is Amen. That is how it’s done,” she said. Goldach looked out into space and remembered the church with Marta. He was looking up at the crucified Savior, wanting to trade places with him. Everyone stood all at once and said Amen over and over. Both Mungan and Coventina were trying to get his attention, and failing.
Mungan put his hand on Goldach’s shoulder.
“Whatever you do, don’t get yourself killed. Even though it seems that Jesus had a successful death, he was still gone. We need you, Goldach,” said Mungan.
“That’s right. Your mission is specific. You must gain the trust of King Henry. That means following his customs. Goddess help us, the church already has their claws sunk deep into the boy,” she said.
They finished breakfast and Coventina broke the news to him the most gentle way she could. She arose from the table and brought back a pile of green velvet. She stood, looking at Goldach. He looked back at her. She began to tap her foot.
“Okay, what is the green velvet?” he asked.
“Goldach,” she held up the outfit finally, “this is what you will wear to the coronation of King Henry the Third,” she said. He knew better than to put up a fight. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. That made him think of Abhiseleka. I wonder what has become of him. That got Mungan’s attention, but he held his tongue. He looked to Coventina, who nodded her head. Goldach witnessed this exchange, but did not realize what it was about. As he began to probe with his mind, Coventina shoved the pile of green at him.
“It’s time for you to get dressed,” she said. Goldach did exactly as she said. He made sure to shut the door loudly. Then he opened it back, just a little, and waited. He crouched down by the door and strained to hear what they were saying. It was too quiet; they were whispering. Frustrated, he slammed the door completely shut. Looking in the mirror, he saw a prisoner. I wish I could run away like Abhiseleka, he thought. That is what Mungan had seen. He saw Abhiseleka somehow. Goldach sat down and resumed his plan to spy on their conversation. Everything got completely silent. The birds even faded to the background.
When the silence rose to a deafening pitch, as loud as could be, the noise stopped. Then it was just Coventina and Mungan, deciding the fate of the world.
“What got your attention Mungan? Was it the little brown boy Goldach was wondering about?” Asked Coventina. Mungan did not answer her. He just glared in her direction. He can hear every word you’re saying. He thought at her.
In the back bedroom, Goldach swooned. His head was spinning. Abhiseleka was supposed to be his secret. This could be a problem. A million thoughts raced through his head. The final one of the barrage was this: denial won’t work.
Well, he can hear what you’re thinking as well you genius, thought Coventina. Why does the little brown boy matter? Thought Coventina.
“Stop calling him that,” said Mungan. “His name is Abhiseleka. I heard that much. Little boys grow up to become men, and this boy in his mind is no ordinary boy,” he said.
“So he’s a real person?” She asked. Mungan hesitated, thinking about what to say, what he believed.
“I want to jump to conclusions. His predecessor had a friend like this. He was from the land of Bharat in the East. I saw this being appear in front of my eyes on several occasions when Aurelian was alive,” he said. Coventina sat back in her seat.
Goldach was still listening with his inner ear. It was amazing. Mungan knew more about himself and Abhiseleka than he thought. Now he remembered Aurelian and the monk talking in the cave. It was more silence. He didn’t like the silence; it made him feel all alone. He remembered now. The man was a monk, dressed in red, and he was called Gephel.
He’s listening, thought Coventina.
Of course he is, thought Mungan, he needs to know. It won’t help us to keep secrets from him, he thought.
“Well, you’re going to have to talk to him about it. I don’t like brown people,” she said.
“Why, Coventina, that’s the most ignorant load of vomit I have ever heard,” said Mungan. He was visually disturbed, but not speaking. His face wrinkled into a prune and he shook his head. “That is not a brown man,” said Mungan, “he is a master magician. He is real. And you don’t want to piss him off,” he said.
“I’ve heard enough of this horse shit,” she said. “I want to see Goldach in his green velvet coronation uniform,” she said. “I don’t need to know any more about Goldach’s master magician,” she said. She arose and walked towards Goldach’s door. She knocked loudly. He did not answer or open the door. He sat on the floor.
“Goldach, are you ready? Tell me you didn’t go to sleep again,” she said. There was no reply. She reached for the doorknob, but then stopped herself. Mungan was trying to tell her something.
That’s what he used to do. He would go to sleep and contact Gephel when he needed to confer with him. The two times I saw him materialize, Aurelian was in a deep sleep.
Coventina wanted nothing of it. She opened the door and saw Goldach seated on the floor in a daze.
“Wake up Goldach,” she said. “Leave that Mohammedan alone. Nothing good comes from those brown people,” she said. Goldach snapped out of it to Coventina’s delight. She did not understand; he was looking for something with which to stab her. There was a deep and primal anger that was rising in him. There was no thought but revenge. Coventina felt a wave of dizziness come over her. Goldach had no audible thoughts, but when he looked up at Coventina, his eyes were pale, almost translucent. She backed away and closed the door behind her.
She grabbed her hat and overcoat. “I’m going for a walk, Mungan. He’s all yours,” she said. She closed the front door behind her.
“And it’s good riddance to you then,” he said. He walked over to the large bottle of whiskey, brewed and distilled by the monks of Westminster. He pulled the cork out of the bottle with a hollow thud and tipped it back. The satisfying heat spread throughout his body. He sat back down in his chair and purposefully thought of nothing. It wasn’t but a few minutes that Goldach emerged from his room.
“We need to get out of here before I kill her,” said Goldach as he approached the table. Mungan looked up at him. He looked at his head, then scanned all the way down to his feet. He had made his assessment. He pushed the bottle towards the boy.
“Have a good long swig of that and we’ll talk,” he said. Slowly Goldach reached for the bottle. “Don’t be timid. Whiskey is nothing but medicine, Goldach,” said Mungan.
Goldach picked up the large bottle with both hands. It was bigger than his head, but he managed to tip it far enough. Mungan was surprised.
“That seemed to go down smooth, boy. You been filching nips when I wasn’t looking?” He asked. “If you just ask me, you can have it whenever you want,” he said.
Goldach sat down across from him.
“So what do you know about my brown friend?” he asked. Mungan pulled the bottle back to himself and swung it back again.
“First of all, don’t call him that,” he said, “his name is,” he stammered,”What’s his name again?” Asked Mungan.
