Young Writers Society

Adam

I land softly on my feet on the Way Gate’s main floor. Shortly after I hear Elizabeth hit the floor. Hard. I wince and turn around. Elizabeth gets up and dusts off her pants and I offer a sheepish grin to her scowling face.

“Tell Isabella that you need to work on your landings some more,” I say smiling. She mutters something under her breath and narrows her eyes at me.

“I’m glad you remembered that there was a mission tonight,” she says accusingly. I throw her a quizzical look. “I can’t believe you forgot,” she goes on. Okay, now I’m really confused. What is she talking about? She crosses her arms and awaits my reply.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Elizabeth.” Her eyes widen and she whispers something under her breath.

“See?” She says as if proving her point, “You never call me ‘Liz’. Why did you earlier?”

“I’ve never called you that in my life. Now, come on, we’re late,” I say and pull her by the arm into the Changing Rooms. When I turn my head she sees the left side of my face.

“Oh, Adam! What happened to your face?” she asks and gingerly reaches out a hand to touch it.

“I tripped when I was coming down the mountain after the meeting,” I explain.

“No, I saw you on the mountain after the meeting, remember? It wasn’t there then.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“I didn’t talk to you on the mountain. I only saw you in Genevieve’s chambers,” I tell her. A puzzled look crosses her face but thankfully she lets the matter drop. I type in our destination on the keyboard and silently wait. Soon Elizabeth is dressed in white pants and a green nurse’s top. Her hair is now blonde. My hair has changed to a dark brown. I’m wearing a long sleeve white button up shirt. I have on black pants and black shoes. I glance at Elizabeth who is studying her new face in the mirror. It’s rounder and she has a bigger nose.

“Who are you?” She asks in a thick English accent.

“I am Doctor Edmund Gibbs. I’m from Essex and I am here because Prince Charles has an illness. And you are?”

“I am Margaret Swan of Wales and I am your assistant.” I take her arm and lead her to the Gate. She nods her head and we step through. My stomach flies to my throat at the jump and then we land on a paved stone walkway.

“Good,” I say pointing to Buckingham Palace, “We’re not that far from the palace.” I see an old newspaper lying on the street. I pick it up and read the date to Elizabeth.

“August 22, 1981. Great, we’re right on time.” When we reach the palace gates seven armed guards are there to greet us. We explain our presence and are then led in by one of the guards. The palace is amazing. Enormous chandeliers hang from the ceiling and red, velvet curtains adorn the windows. We are led to the throne room where Queen Elizabeth sits. Three chandeliers hang overhead. The walls are red and the ceiling has mind boggling patterns all over it. Prince Charles of Wales is speaking to his mother when we enter. He looks up and greets us with a smile. I kneel down on one knee and Elizabeth does the same.

“Your Majesty, I am Doctor Edmund Gibbs and this is my assistant Margaret,” I tell her.

“Thank goodness you’re here. Doctor Wilson has recently retired and we need a new doctor. Thank you for coming such a long way. This is my son Prince Charles of Wales,” she says.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor,” he says. He offers his hand to me and I shake it.

“Nice to meet you as well, Your Highness,” I reply. He removes his hand. Moments later a horrendous cough comes from his throat.

“Perhaps we should see you now, Your Highness,” Elizabeth offers.

“Perhaps you should,” he replies. Thankfully my training allows me to fake my way through the examination. Elizabeth is playing her part well. She remains silent throughout the whole examination. Afterwards we give a spoonful of purple liquid and send Prince Charles to his bed for rest. The purple liquid is only syrup but it would look suspicious if we stop whoever may be poisoning the prince and he suddenly becomes healthy. For the first time the new Princess makes an appearance.

“Thank you so much for taking such good care of my husband,” Princess Diana says and squeezes my hand gratefully.

“Not a problem at all, Your Highness. For how long will you be visiting the palace?”

“Until Charles is well. The Queen insisted that he come to the palace to recover. Well, I had better be going. Thank you again, Doctor,” she replies. She leaves and Elizabeth and I are left alone.

“Do you think it’s poison?” she asks. I shake my head.

“Not anymore. I have the feeling the Goddess will try something bigger this time. And besides, Genevieve said there was an assassin. Have you seen any sign of the-” She ends my words by putting her hand on my mouth.

“Wait, I hear voices. Listen,” she says. I hear murmurs out in the corridor. I take her arm and drag her behind a stone pillar in the hallway. I peek my head out from behind it. Prince Charles is in the hallway leaning on a pillar for support. There is a woman beside him who looks almost desperate. At first I think she is sick because of the way she is holding her round stomach.

“Charles, please,” she pleads.

“Prince Charles,” he corrects.

“It’s yours! How can you do this to me?” I glance over and see Elizabeth staring intently at the woman.

“I think she’s with child, Adam,” she whispers. “Look at how protectively she is holding her stomach. She’s saying he baby is Prince Charles’. Do you think it is? Is she okay?”

“Whoa, Elizabeth. Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure she is fine and if there is a baby it can’t be his. Princess Diana gives birth to their first child next year,” I say. Prince Charles speaks to a guard nearby to order the woman away then returns to his room. I point to his room and motion for Elizabeth to follow me. We knock on his door and he opens it. When he sees us he smiles.

“Ah, Doctor Gibbs and Lady Margaret. What can I do for you?”

“We would just like to ask a few questions that may pertain to your illness,” I say.

He nods his head. “Certainly, Doctor. Please come in.” He opens the door further and waves us in.

“Have there been any new guards or hands that have been hired recently?” I inquire. Prince Charles frowns.

“What does that have to-” he starts.

“Please, Sir. It may be important.”

“Well, there is a new guardsman and Mother recently hired a new maid. But I still don’t see how this has to do with anything,” he replies.

“They may have unknowingly brought in a foreign illness. At this point in time it is impossible to tell,” Elizabeth says. Suddenly a bell sounds throughout the palace.

“It must be time for dinner,” he says smiling. Prince Charles leads us to a huge room with a long cherry wood dinning table in the middle of it. Silver platters that are piled with food are being brought in by the servants. A man ushers us to a seat at the corner of the table. The Queen makes an entrance and takes a seat at the head of the table.

“It is my wish that you two dine with us this evening for your tremendous efforts for my son. He informs me that he is already feeling better,” she says. Elizabeth and I exchange glances. We didn’t do anything. Two guards enter and take a place at the front of the door. The taller one stands unnaturally rigid at his post. A small maid comes in with tea and pours the queen a cup. Prince Charles comes over and motions to the taller guard and the little maid.

“Those are the two that Mother just hired.” He frowns. “They don’t look sick at all,” he says. Prince Charles returns to his seat and I turn my head to the maid and see her cast a curious glance at Elizabeth. Soon the rest of the royal family enters. Princess Diana sits next to Prince Charles. Princess Anne takes a set next to her husband Captain Mark Philips and across from them sits their eldest child Peter.

I nudge Elizabeth and motion to Princess Anne. “She has another kid too, three-month old Zara Philips. Have you seen her?” Elizabeth shakes her head and watches as Prince Andrew and Prince Edward take their seat. The queen formally announces Elizabeth and I as the guests of honor. The diner continues without incident. I eat my share of some delicious roast beef and Elizabeth drinks cup after cup of tea. When the supper ends we make our way to our rooms. Elizabeth bumps me with her shoulder and giggles as we walk down the hallway.

“I think I had enough tea to last me a lifetime,” she says. I smile in agreement. Suddenly a scream from Prince Charles’ room pierces the light atmosphere. I rush ahead of Elizabeth and when she catches up to me she gasps. A hand flies to her throat. Princess Diana sobs uncontrollably and I send her for help. Prince Charles is on the floor lying in a pool of blood. Elizabeth bends down to take his pulse. She lifts her head to meet my gaze. Her expression is enough to tell me that Prince Charles is lost. The queen dashes in. A blood curdling scream escapes her throat when she sees her son.

“You’re a doctor. Please do something, Edmund,” she pleads. I shake my head slowly.

“I’m afraid there is nothing I can do, Your Majesty,” I reply. Maids rush in to clean up the remains and I notice that the little maid from before isn’t there. I glance at Elizabeth and we hurry from the room. Already I can hear sirens blaring outside the palace walls.

“He’s dead,” she whispers in disbelief. I nod solemnly and walk with her to our rooms. I open my door and lead her inside. She plops down on the single bed and lifts her teary eyes to look at me.

“We can’t split up. It’s not safe. The Goddess is still out there and I don’t think we are done here,” I say. I give her my bed and I take the chair in the corner. Moments later I fall into a fitful sleep.

The prince is dead...