Lord of the Two Lands, Part 4

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Part 5

The conversation was difficult to hear.  A power couple approached the count and asked something.  But their question was difficult to make out.  A lone man spoke on behalf of the count, who stood tall, dark, and silent, his eyes staring onward, beyond everything around him.  But then, after the spokesman talked, the husband, an older man in a tuxedo with a grey mustache and blue eyes, raised his voice in a temper, and he was easier to hear.

"Ley lines and Freemason rituals.  All very fascinating," said the indignant man.  His face darkened into a red hue.  "But we didn't come here for a history lesson.  We've taken a risk bringing our friends out here like this.  These are not ordinary people."  As the man spoke, two of the count's security men tensed up, edged forward, and closed in just a little around the count.  "We have properties all over this city.  We own foundations.  We have dual citizenship.  You have a lot of powerful people here.  Now, if you're just some eccentric millionaire, then our business is through, and you will pay for wasting our time tonight.  But---"

"But if you're what we think you are," interrupted the tycoon's younger wife, "and you're the sorcerer we've all heard that you are, then it's time to build bridges and make alliances.  So, tell me.  Are you, by any chance Egyptian?  Is that why you brought us out here to this obelisk?"

The speaker smiled diplomatically and extended his hand out, as the count continued to stand silent, cold, and taller than everyone standing in the circle that surrounded the monument.  "My master has spent a great amount of time in Egypt and Mesopotamia, though also a lot of time spent throughout Europe as well."

"A citizen of the world," smiled the woman.  "So, what can you tell us about Egypt that we couldn't read out of a book?  Do you know something more than what's in that museum over there?"  She pointed east, towards the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Her smile was the only one amid a grim collection of stony faces.  The rest of the group of moguls and their wives crowded in around the woman, their pupils dilated and their eyes staring straight, as though they were no longer themselves.  Together, in unison, the crowd chanted together, "Read it.  Read the stone."  And at this, her jaw dropped, her lower red lip quivering almost in fear, were it not for the thrilled look in her seductive young eyes. 

"Read here, my lady," said the count's delegate.  He bent over and pointed down to a plaque at the base of the obelisk.  "Read this right here.  Read loud enough for everyone to hear you."

She leaned over, and as she did, the eyes of the crowd returned to normal.  They all leaned in, watching her, curious to hear what she would say.  She read, a flirtatious smile returning to her lips: "The golden Horus, content with victory, who smiteth the rulers of the nations." 

"That is who my master is," said the count's spokesman.  "He 'smites the rulers of the nations,' as you can read here.  Look, now."  The count held in his hands the necromancer's wand and the magical cup from the play.  No one saw how he got them.  Perhaps the director gave them to him as a memento.  Whatever the case, in that moment, it was as though he pulled those props straight out of the air.  The count handed the glass over to his delegate, still saying not a single word, but now he looked down at the woman as his speaker continued: "My dear lady, 'you invert the covenants of Nature's trust, and harshly deal like an ill borrower with that you received on other terms!  Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, that have been tired all day without repast, and timely rest have wanted!  But, fair virgin, this will restore all soon!'"

He shuffled himself, there in the bushes.  It was about to happen, and there was nothing he could do about it.  If he jumped out to stop what happened next, either the guards of the tycoons, or the guards of the count would pin him to the ground, and they'd disappear him that night.  No police presence in the city could protect him from these dangerous people. 

The tycoon's wife smiled more, the freckle on her cheek making her look all-the-more younger and coy.  Her eyes widened, and she played along: "T'will not restore the truth and honesty that thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies!" She turned her eyes from the delegate to the count himself, who looked down upon her with his amused ebony countenance.  She continued: "What grim aspects are these?  These ugly-headed monsters  Mercy guard me!  Hence, with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver, hast though betrayed my credulous innocence?"

She addressed the count, but again, it was his delegate who returned with his poetry.  And as he did so, he held out the glass to the lady once more, offering it to her to drink.  "List, Lady!  Be not coy, and be not cozened!  Beauty is nature's coin!  It must not be hoarded, but must be current, and the good thereof consists in mutual and partaken bliss!"

She pushed the cup away from herself, her husband's eyes wide and his face flush as he watched the exchange with the count's spokesman.  "I had not thought to have unlocked my lips in this unhallowed air, but that this Juggler would think to charm my judgement!"

Once more, though, the servant held out the glass to the lady, but this time the count extended his hand a little in the direction of the cup and the lady, gesturing for her to accept the gift.  The spokesman said: "But this will cure all straight!  One sip of this will bathe the drooping spirits in delight beyond the bliss of dreams.  Be wise, and taste!"

A bright smile grew across her face, and the rest of the small upper crust crowd leaned in to watch, as she accepted the cup with both of her hands, drawing it slowly to her lips, but never taking her eyes off of the count.  Perhaps she's rewarding the count for acknowledging her, he wondered.  "I drink this cup for the powers I serve."  And then she drank. 

Swiftly, her eyes flashed wide.  She dropped the cup.  Gasping, she clutched at her chest.  Bending over, she went down, moaning, grabbing onto her head, swaying back and forth, until she finally went to the ground and she was on her knees.  Turning black, her hair went into her head, but fur came all over her face and all parts of her.  She couldn't speak---her mouth was changing its shape.  Her feminine moans grew higher in their pitch until she no longer sounded like a woman.  Then there was a black tail that came out of her dress, and her eyes turned yellow, until finally she looked like a humanoid cat, collapsed on the ground and dazed. 

Lord of the Two Lands, Part 3

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Part 5

He knew where they would likely go: The Obelisk.  It was the most fitting location for what was about to take place, and it was nearby.  If he could race across the grass and take short cuts, he might be able to stay caught up with the train of carriages.  So off he went.  Running past Turtle Pond and beyond the Great Lawn, he came to a line of benches underneath a tree.  Sitting and waiting around Central Park at night made him nervous, but being so close to the count made him even more nervous.

Damn blue bloods are going to get themselves killed, he thought.  He turned around where he sat and spied over a hundred feet behind him a set of stony stairs that led up a little hill.  A fiery torch blazed on each side of them.  Probably placed there earlier in anticipation for what would happen next, he thought.  Atop the hill stood a grove of trees, and above the treeline, The Obelisk shot into the sky, its ancient face standing defiant against the darkness.

He was in luck, too.  The carriages had just pulled up.  He was ahead of them, and he had a good spot.  But what would he do next?  What could he do?  First, the count stepped out of his carriage, and with his attendants, they slowly walked down the sidewalk.  After he was well away from his carriage, the other guests who wanted to visit with the count were allowed out of their carriages.  By the time they had all caught up with him and started visiting, he realized he couldn't hear any of them.  He'd have to get in closer.  It would be tricky, though.  There were attendants standing beside the horses of each carriage.

So, carefully he slipped from his seat and took a walk down the sidewalk.  But further away, when he thought he was out of sight, he circled back and hid behind trees and brush on the north side of the Obelisk.  He was quiet as he could be, but he couldn't help but wonder if any of the guards or attendants heard him.  Then, to his horror, the count and his guests moved to the north side of The Obelisk so that they were right in front of him.  Surely, he thought, he would be seen now.  He knelt down as quietly as he could, steadying his breath, moving slowly.

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Lord of the Two Lands, Part 2

The Defeat of Comus, by Sir Edwin Henry Landseer

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Part 5

After the sun set west of Central Park, the play began.  The evening star was high in the sky, and the stage was well-lit by the lights of the Delacorte Theater.  Usually tickets to Shakespeare plays were free in the summertime, but tonight's event was special, and it was necessary to buy a ticket to attend.  The seats were completely full on this evening.  This obscure play was a very special event, probably arranged with a lot of money, and it attracted a lot of people who heard about it though word-of-mouth.

He sat in a seat in the upper eastern corner, and this allowed him to see beyond the stage to Belvedere Castle in the distance, the starlight twinkling in the surface of Turtle Pond.  Yet more importantly, he had a good view of the audience from his vantage point.  In the very front sat his target: a wealthy African count---or so everyone believed.  He was tall, bald, and all of his attention was focused on the act in front of him.  Surrounding the count sat a dozen servants.  They were men dressed in evening suits, keen and aware of everything around their master.  Outside of that group sat a small gathering of high society.  Many were older men in their suits with very young wives dressed in evening gowns.  No doubt, they were there for the count, and not the play.  Several of the women did not look at all comfortable with their surroundings, though he could tell that many of them tried to humor the count and enjoy the performance.  Outside of that core were what appeared to be professors, young academics, and other eccentric types intrigued by obscure, avant-garde trends.

The play was originally called A Maske, and it was specially made for the cultivated and erudite Bridgewater family, to be presented at Ludlow Castle on Michaelmas Night in 1634.  However the play eventually came to be known simply as Comus years later.  The operatic "Puritan masque" was written for a family that, at that time, had been struggling with scandals of despoiled innocence as well as possibly witchcraft.  And so, the script involved an innocent and chaste young girl trying to find her way through a forest after being separated by her brothers.  The darkness of the night seems impenetrable and ominous.  And then, she comes across the sorcerer, Comus.

According to the program, Comus was an impure reveler like his father, the god Bacchus, and he had taken up after his mother, the goddess Circe, who took pleasure in transforming men into half-animal creatures.  The performance centered around Comus' efforts to tempt the lost girl, that she would give in to his seductive charms.  With his necromancer's wand and a glass filled with magical potion, Comus urges the lady to drink from his cup and give in to his enchantments, that she may be transformed and join with the rest of his beastly quarry.

The count was entranced with the performance.  It could have been only him watching the show.  He noticed no one else around him.  Toward the end of the play, the girl's brothers entered the scene, threw down Comus's cup, and rescued their sister.  After an act of sea nymphs dancing to baroque music, there was a final eulogy by the lady's Attendant Spirit, and then the play had ended.  When the lights went out, and there was a brief pause, the count stood from his seat immediately and clapped loudly.  Shortly after followed his attendants, and then followed the nobility that surrounded him.  The cast came out onto the stage, and the count's attendants tossed up flowers to the actors as they graciously bowed to their benefactor who used his money and influence to make the play possible.  Many of the blue bloods were looking at the count, smiling with him and then turning to the actors to cheer them.

The performance over, the next part of the evening would be crucial.  He had to follow the count at a distance, but keep close enough to perhaps hear what was being said.  His life was in jeopardy.  If he were caught, the count would go beyond all natural law to make sure he was punished.  He had to stay calm and keep a clear head so he could take notes later.  So much hinged on what he would find out tonight.

The retinue followed the count, and several of the admirers tried talking to him.  But the count was always quiet.  He allowed his chief servants to speak for him.  This servant acknowledged the nobles, and with his white-gloved hands, he gestured for them to follow the count outside of the theater.

Keeping up with the count would be difficult without a car, but he had to try his best.  Carefully slipping through the crowd, he made his way outside to find the count and his train strolling out to West Drive.  There, parked in the street stood a train of horse-drawn carriages.  It was obvious to him they waited for the play's benefactor.  The count boarded his carriage with his few closest men.  No other person was there to visit with him.  The tall, dark man sat still and solitary, staring forward thoughtfully---as though he were looking beyond the world itself.  The remaining servants and some of the rich filled the rest of the carriages.  Then, they took off at a leisurely pace.

Lord of the Two Lands, Part 1

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Part 5

He was in a bar this time.  Never used to such surroundings, he'd been told such places were dens of iniquity and ill repute.  But after everything he'd seen and been through, he now knew the world wasn't as black and white as he once thought.  He nursed his beer for over half an hour.  He never liked beer until the last few years.  He grew an appreciation for the drink, though.  And he was able to distinguish between the different brands.  Ultimately, he was drinking because he figured beer was a social currency.  Others would see him with it and feel comfortable.  They'd let their guard down and relax.  He desperately needed someone to open up to him.

But how does a man open himself back up to the world once he was cut off from it?  If a man goes off to war, gets lost, and doesn't come home for years, how does he adjust?  Or if a child is locked up in a closet and kept locked away in an attic for a long time, but is suddenly let free, will he ever grow up to be a normal, successful man?  And what about a man thrown away in prison?  Prisons are nothing more than modern dungeons these days.  They were sometimes called penitentiary systems, but there was nothing penitential about them.  How impossible is it for Edmond Dantès to become the Count of Monte Cristo?

He couldn't lift his eyes above the bar he sat at.  He'd always caught himself looking down, lost in thought.  The murmur of the bar was a white noise he easily tuned out.  Nothing anyone talked about mattered to him.  He was estranged.  Alien.  He didn't belong there.  Someone put on some country music.  It was modern, self-aware, and obnoxious.  He hated it.  A woman who looked ten years older than him had been glancing at him, but he never met her eyes.  He didn't know what to do anymore.  The bartender tried cheering him up with one-liners and perky follow-ups.  All he could do is bring himself to smile for a few moments before sinking back down into himself.  This wasn't working.  A group came in behind him.  They were young bar hoppers, halfway stoned, and very loud.

He paid and left.  There was too much to do, and he was out of time.  It was foolish to try this.  There was no one he could open up to.  He'd reached a place in life where no one could help him.  He tried other avenues of opening up to people.  He went to an ice cream social at a nearby church.  He tried a coffee shop.  He tried playing some volleyball with another group of people who, apart from his presence in the game, wouldn't have anything to do with him.  He was a pariah.  He was too far gone.  He'd gone so far with it all, that there was no one left who could relate to what he'd been through.  He could try to get on the internet and meet people in that manner, sure.  The World Wide Web had come a long way since he first left the world.  People were now more interconnected than ever.  But it'd take time to learn the ins and outs of all the new social media and other new websites.  Besides, he was dealing with concrete problems in the real world, and there was too much danger of retreating into a safe, lazy existence of attention-seeking if he played with the Internet.  Not to mention the fact that everyone was piddling around on the Internet on their phones and tablets as it was, divorced from the reality that surged around them.

No, he had a mission tonight.  The play in the park would start at seven in the evening, and it would last beyond nightfall.  He had to be there.  The man he was tracking---if you could call him a man---was the main financier of this particular event.  This patron of the arts loved this special play.  It was to be a rare performance of John Milton's Comus, the story of a sorcerer who could transform people into animals after tricking them to drink from his magical cup.

Of course he'd set up something like this, he thought to himself.  And then he wondered how many high-brow rich people would disappear before dawn.