the haunted kingdom by Charles E.J. Moulton (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

her soprano diva air to the whole mania. A lovely mezzo named Gwendolyn played the mother of Landrea. Finally, Pamela Jonas, a funny alto whose chubby appearance gave everyone the urge to cuddle her, in the role of the housekeeper of comic relief was perfect type casting. Bantrard as the evil butler Lorf with a crush on the Belinda part was a touch of self-sacrificing self-remoteness. Looking for a suitable tenor to play George, the title role of the prince husband, had been hard until Nomed appeared and of course the role was given to him.
The opera The Coronation of Landrea was ready, the finale its perfect finish. The royal orchestra (three lutes, one fidicula, two aulos, one sinka, three rebec, one psalterium, three female singers and one drummer) was going to be accompanied by the fifty musicians that were assigned to play the wedding march.
The Aria of the Resolving Majesty was to be sung after L'Orfeo turned out to be the evil Butler Lorf (a joke at Rolf's expense). It was widely known that Rolf had always had a crush on Belinda and said that he wanted to marry her one-day when she was an adult. When the wedding was announced he said nothing but 'Oh, well. My chances are lost!' That line was in the opera as well and it would go down well, even by Rolf, who knew how to laugh at himself.
Townsfolk and country folk alike had arrived way before the wedding and everyone from magicians and love potion sellers to amateur soul winners had arrived. The inns were cooking “Prince Belinda’s home cooked Goose” as well as “Beef a la Steven”. The Pub had Princely Ale and Princess-Apple-Wine and claimed it all to be personal recipes.
Wooden fences had been built up along the last mile to the church and guards posted. People had slept over night in front of the church to get good places to gaze fondly at the couple as they strode into the holy place of matrimonially nuptial ritual. That morning, the morning before the wedding, a huge cotton drapery taken from some township’s city hall was used as a background to write: WE LOVE YOU, BELINDA in gold and red paint on a white surface of specially sown fabric.
As a result no one could come in or out of the Senate for days. Belinda had not been able to sleep of course, having dreamt that she stood on a grand cliff over one hundred thousand people, screaming her name.
Steven had slept in one of the guestrooms wanting to make the whole affair exciting and be able to stand up without waking his wife. He sneaked out early enough to dress and let himself be driven to St. Raphael’s in a white, silver, gilded and blue carriage. Yesterday, he and Patrick, Tom, Theo, Marcus, Philip and a few other royal men, including the serious Great Danes and the Hispanic Twins had partied at Morgana’s house. Morgana had of course danced for him, but more than folly smiles were not in it for the Princess.
Someone cried: “Long Live the Royal Husband!” and Tom said to Steven, “That’ll be your title from now on.” He, the royal husband, paced the sacristy for an hour after that. He wanted to be there early, making sure Belinda and he didn’t see each other beforehand. He had enough to drink and a couch to lie down on. Torches had been provided and the heating-arrangements from the cellar coal heater through brick-pipes worked fine. His red velvet vest with golden buttons and dark-blue cape contrasted beautifully with his white pants and gold crown.
Blond and brown eyed he made a gigantic impression on the twenty thousand that had arrived that day. The white stallions pulling the blue coach with the symbol of Gargetania had made people aware that Steven was wearing his large General’s Cross with the same insignia around his neck. Bantrard, his orchestra and the fifty fidicula players had arrived early to rehearse.
After that the royals began arriving. It was a who’s-who of the continent. The crowd cheered: “Viva Hispania!” or “Hooray for Dublin!” “May the Hurtians live forever!” or “Margetania rules the known world!” as the case might’ve been for who came by.
Over at the palace, Belinda was fully dressed in her white silk and satin dress, real pearls decorating it and a studded diamonds at the cleavage. The silver tiara with diamonds contained a veil that would shine across her face and the three-meter silk train was waiting downstairs for her on a red carpet with Geena and Rolf as guards.
Bridesmaids were Morgana, Patsy, Erica, Ellie, Ariana and Marie-Louise all in white and little Lisa and three girlfriends were there as well, about to strew rosebuds and rose leaves in her path.
Over and over they had gone through the procedure, but wedding-day jitters were something different all together. She was sweating and shivering alternatively, as well as laughing and crying. Everyone had told her how people had camped in front of the church and how they were selling Belinda’s Apple-Wine in the pubs, but that seemed to make her more nervous. She had spent an hour hugging her mother this morning and her father had held her a long sermon about her being the best daughter of the entire world and how proud he was of her.
”The people love you!” her father beamed. “Look at you. You look positively angelic. You will be glorious.” But as Marie-Louise and her royal highness stood alone in her large bedroom with the entire troop outside waiting, her jitters returned.
“Oh, Marie-Lee! What if I stutter? What if I trip?”
Marie shook her head. “You’ll be fine. “Every month you speak in front of the Senate and that is a lot of people. You are a public person.”
”I am just afraid it is too early.”
”That is normal, Lindy. Your fear is ungrounded. You love him. Then it is never too early.”
Belinda hugged Marie. “I am so happy you of all the people in the world are my bridesmaid and am travelling with me in the coach. Your fiancé Robert is in the church, sister heart?”
Marie nodded. “He is there, waiting.” She shrugged. “At least, I hope he is.”
Belinda looked heavenward displaying her eye whites in a dimpled smile, breathed out through her pursed lips and lowered her net-gloved hands. She giggled and cocked her head.
Marie-Louise had never heard the expression sister heart and discovered she quite liked it. And out they walked, the crowd beaming when they saw her. She hugged her father.
“Father,” Belinda trembled. “I don’t know if I can go through with this. A small wedding would be enough.”
He smiled and patted her gently on the back. “You’ll be fine. The future queen cannot marry in a countryside chapel. You must remember your stature. There is no turning back now.”
She smiled. “Hold my hand on the way there, will you?”
”Indeed, I will!”
”Let’s leave!”
Belinda was walking down the first floor corridor toward the landing that would bring her to the main entrance hall. Her heels were clicking against the stone floor. She turned the corner where the white corridor turned into the first floor landing with its Persian rugs and mahogany niches. The stone walls were already covered with leaded glass-lamps, lit with candles and torches along the walls. She came to the main staircase and rushed down the red carpet, lifting her dress as she did.
The chequered marble floor somehow glittered in the morning light from the roof round the chandelier. Rolf was standing there at the foot of the stairs smiling.
“Your coach with the white horses is waiting for you, your highness! Philip is there, too!”
She smiled back.
“Thank you, Rolf!” She smiled. “Hello, Geena!”
”You look lovely!” she mused.
Belinda chuckled. “How sweet you all are!”
“The other two coaches are there as well!”
”Thank you, Rolf!”
Sieglinde added: “My daughter will be the toast of the town!”
”She is already, your majesty!” Ariana added.
“She already is!” Lisa finished and all agreed.
Walking into the brilliant sunshine into a white coach with the eagle on it, she was with her two best friends and was driven away across the gravel unto a new future.

Wednesday, September 23rd, 1422 – Midday

Belinda arrived at the church and stood up in the coach and waved for about two minutes to the masses, her face sunny with elation. Then Marie-Louise stepped out dressed in blue and red. The King, dressed in gold, followed her. He has a white and blue eagle stripe across his chest, Simon the Great’s golden crown on his greying brown hair. The King waved to the masses and a cheer erupted that had the guards holding their ears. When the bridesmaids lifted Belinda’s train and helped her out of the wagon assisted by her father, the action was cheered on by the masses. As she walked in, the mid path already full of rosebuds, the wedding march by Bantrard was played by fifty fidiculas.
One of the first familiar faces she saw was Julius Cretan. He waved. She smiled back. She was happy even to see him. Next to Cretan the costume designer’s Carlos and Harald sat admiring her royal highness in their creation.
“She looks good in that dress!”
“I think you underestimate this,” Carlos exclaimed in his thick accent. “She look stupendous!”
She was half-way down the aisle now. More known faces were there. Mormidar and his family. Mustafus. Iwar. Ulfaas. Callini. The Britannic majesties. About half way down the aisle Belinda recalled her own words written in the diary. Nina Ray will pave the way for Lucinda. She had to close her eyes and block out the thought.
Steven is there. Oh, he is handsome in that suit.
Belinda is there. Oh, that dress. She looks stunning.
Cheers faintly heard from outside.
Rose windows I looked at with the monks.
Beautiful music from the side of the church.
Sanctuary with the monk Raphael, why am I saying Raphael, he never told me his name.
Dome. Gorgeous dome. No monks there now.
Yes, he did. Hand stop shaking. My father is so sweet. His hand is shaking too. Ulfaas is there.
Beautiful painting by Penderesci of the Resurrection of Jesus, similar to the one in Iuventus.
God, I am nervous, Tom and Maria are there, oh, he is so handsome, Steven
Walking up the stairs with the long train. The little girls sit down in the front row.
The train? The girls are arranging it. I look at my father. He smiles. I hug him.
The king smiled at his daughter and he tried to quench a tear.
I hear my mother crying.
Alexander gave the hand over to Steven and Steven bowed.
Alexander went to his throne next to his queen
I smile at Steven. He smiles. We kneel. It is all so gorgeous I cannot begin to say.
The wedding-march ended.
Archbishop Bernardus is talking but I hear no words. All I can think of is this moment of joy and not saying anything wrong. Tom is so dignified. Maria so elegant.
Another tune, then the ceremony. Oh, God this is the happiest moment of my life.
“Dearly Beloved!” The Archbishop’s lovely baritone voice nearly blasted throughout the Cathedral. “We are gathered here today in the scrutiny of divinity and in the audience of this company, to convey collectively this gentleman and this lady in holy matrimony. Wedlock was predetermined by deity in the sunrise of occasion and established by our redeemer Jesus Christ in Galilee, acknowledged to be praiseworthy in the midst of all men. We commence by asking God's sanction. Let us pray.”
Stand up now, Belinda. Steven, I love you.
“Will you …”
Say yes,