Death Be Pardoner To Me: The Life of George, Duke of Clarence by Davies Dorothy

Author:Davies, Dorothy [Davies, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiction4All
Published: 2014-07-13T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Ah, Durian, such memories! Why are you not with me now, to lift my spirits, to walk the paths of my memories with me! What had I done that God took you from me in that terrible winter, when the tertian fever struck down so many and the physician was powerless in the face of your torment? Do you know how much I wanted to be there, to comfort you in the last days and hours, even as I need comforting now in my last days and hours? Do you know how they denied me access to your room, saying I should keep myself away for fear of contracting the condition myself? Do you know how I did not care at the time if I did or not? My one need was to say farewell and thank you to a dear and trusted friend. Peke held me back; demanded I stay away for the sake of my family and those around me. Peke was right but I damned him for it all the same. Ah, that other devoted man, he put himself in dire danger by standing before your door and barring me from entrance, me, in one of my towering rages, too! A brave man, Peke, brave to the end to defy me thus. You know, Durian, only too well, what I am like when the temper takes me. But he stood firm and I knew he was right. So now I say to those spirits I am sure are gathering around me at this time, find Durian for me, find – no, even now I do not say your true name for you entrusted me with that, my friend, and even in my death days I will not reveal it to the world, not that the world can hear me! But you know how thoughts have energies of their own, do they not? I will not speak your name. Durian you were to me and Durian you will stay until I am with Isobel in the tomb in Tewkesbury which awaits me.

Again I ramble, oh how I ramble in these thoughts! Spirits, angels, whoever is with me at this time and of a surety there are phantoms here, I feel them, I sense them, I beg, I plead with you to find the spirit, soul, the essence of Durian and tell him how I treasured his friendship, his devotion, his loyalty, his humour and his music and how I was prevented from saying farewell by those who sought to keep me healthy.

And tell him how much of a joke that is, for here I am, under sentence of death twice over and it is no more than a toss of the dice which decides what will take me from this life! Ah yes, comes the part of me that wishes against all sensible thought that my brother the king’s execution warrant is enacted first: I would not, after all, deprive him of the knowledge, the ongoing memory, that he had his brother killed, murdered in cold blood.

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