Kingdoms: Pt 1

Preface

By the Author

What this story is about will be up to you as the reader, but I would like to quickly preface what it is not about. First, though using the idea of three kingdoms of afterlife glory, this is not an attempt to describe Latter Day Saint theology, nor give a literal description of what I believe each of these three kingdoms of glory will be like.

Secondly, the story uses historical figures as a few of its characters - this is not an attempt to accurately portray their relative moral worth, beliefs, or even personalities.

Both of these conventions, the kingdoms, and the historical characters, are meant to communicate other truths that I feel are important and valuable.

Thank you,

Andrew D. Knorpp

***

Kingdoms

I was walking in a plain of knee-high grass. Behind me, the plain seemed to go on forever. It was perfectly flat, only occasionally stirred by a passing breeze, like some yellow ocean. Up ahead the fields began to become more and more hilly, until, in the distance, those hills grew into great mountains, whose rocky peaks disappeared into the clouds.

I saw a man up ahead. He was the first change I had encountered in the landscape. I stopped as I arrived next to him.

He was older, with somewhat worn olive skin, and dark curly hair, tinged gray and white. He wore a simple shepherd's robe, and leaned on a staff, looking out into the plains I had just come from. When he noticed me looking at him, he turned to me and smiled warmly, wrinkles forming around the edges of his eyes.

“Welcome,” He said.

“To where?” I asked, looking around again.

“To put it simply, you have died,” He said with a warm smile again, as if it was somewhat amusing.

I nodded, that felt right. I remembered the hospital now. Strange, it all seemed so distant.

“Is this the right place?” I asked, “Was I good enough?”

He laughed. “Well, that depends.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

“You will always go to the right place - that is what Justice means. Where the right place is will depend on what you choose.”

“I get to choose?”

“Yes, you always have.”

The proposition, though new to me, did seem fair. I paused. “Who are you?”

“I will be your guide, your shepherd of sorts, through these three kingdoms.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pick which one you would like to dwell in, I suppose,” The Shepherd said, turning away from the field. “But time must not be wasted, let us go.”

With that, he began to walk, and I followed. The landscape began to be a little more irregular, interrupted by brush and boulders. Soon, I caught sight of a faraway building. It was a palace of sorts, with glimmering white marble walls and high towers, each peaked by magnificent shining golden domes.

As we approached, I realized the building was further away than I had first anticipated, but much larger and grander as well. As we continued to approach, smaller details began to be more clear - windows, towers, chimneys, statues, and banners, all adding to the grandiosity of the building. Eventually, we reached what seemed to be the front door. Large enough to fit two elephants abreast, the huge wooden door was set in an even larger stone arch, intricately carved with imagery of horses and chariots.

In awe, I looked up at the building. It was so immense I had to crane my neck to see the top towers.

“Who lives here?” I asked in amazement.

“Alexander of Macedonia,” The Shepherd said, pulling out a large key ring from one of his cloak pockets. “Or, as he is better known, Alexander the Great - who has a strange obsession with locking his front door." He located a key on the ring and inserted it in a small keyhole. “He lives in the first of the three kingdoms we will be visiting today,” He unlocked a much smaller door inside the larger one, and pushed it open.

We entered the hall, which was nearly as breathtaking as the palace from the outside. The floor was made of beautiful colorful tiles, and upon the high walls hung weapons of war, enough to arm a small legion.

“Quite a collection, isn’t it?” The Shepherd said as I gawked.

I nodded.

“Entirely useless here,” The Shepherd said, shaking his head, sadly. “But, we came here to meet the owner. It’s a bit of a walk, so let us not dawdle.”

I was glad to have The Shepherd to follow because I quickly would have been lost in countless rooms and halls, stairways and passages.

We walked past pools and fountains, indoor gardens and trees, tapestries of epic battles and paintings of great heroes, statues of animals, soldiers, and Alexander himself. Every room was large enough to fit my whole earthly home inside. Each hall was so grand and great it would have been sufficient as a mansion for me.

I stopped at a balcony, looking out over a massive marble hall, in the center of which was a fountain large enough to fit a many-masted ship. The water glittered from the light of the giant glass-domed roof, which illuminated the intricate statue garden surrounding it.

“Is this the best Kingdom?” I asked, in awe.

“It is to Alexander,” The Shepherd responded.

We kept walking, passing more rooms, each was more great and spacious than the last. Eventually, after climbing one last great staircase, we arrived at another great door. The Shepherd gestured for me to go forward. “You may knock. He doesn’t normally respond when I do.”

I stepped forward and knocked on the great door. “ENTER!” A voice boomed.

Tentatively, I pushed the door open and stepped into the greatest of all the halls I had yet seen. It was lit by tall glassless windows, which lined the sides of the hall. The high ceiling was painted with the scene of an epic battle. At the end of the long hall was a throne made of that same great marble as the rest of the palace. It was wreathed in gold ornamentation, making it almost appear like it was surrounded by fire. Framing this throne were rows of columns, each carved with chariots and war horses, whose eyes were the most exquisite rubies.

“Welcome!” The man upon the throne shouted, his voice playing off the marble room. “Come closer so I can get a better look at you!”

I looked back at The Shepherd, who nodded encouragingly.

As I approached the throne, his voice continued to boom. “Where are you joining my courts from, young one?”

“Earth life,” I responded, not sure what else to say.

“Oh, then it is your first time here?” Alexander the Great asked.

“Yes, it is,” I responded. Up closer I could see he was handsome, with a sharp jaw and defined musculature.

“Well, what do you think of my palace?” He asked proudly.

“It’s magnificent.”

“It is, isn't it?” Alexander paused, “Who is this peasant you bring with you?”

“The Shepherd,” I responded.

“Finally, they have sent me more slaves! He must dust the East Wing. It has been neglected by my horrible and useless slaves.”

I tried to argue, but he cut me off, “Look out at my empire,” Alexander said, gesturing out the window to his left.

I turned to look. From the tall window, I could see along the side of the mountain range, which extended further than the endlessness I had first supposed.

“It’s all mine. A reward for my greatness in life. This is my empire, larger than that of even the Persians at their height! Do you know anything that could compare to what I have, child?”

I shook my head.

“I thought not." His brow hardened. "Yet, there is still more to be gained, more lands to liberate and bring under the shadow of my palace! Even now, Napolean of the earthly eighteenth century dwells just over those hills, and himself plots to take the little I have.”

"Alexander, what army do you expect Napoleon to march on you with?” The Shepherd asked, in a calm but sad tone.

Alexander turned to look at him with something wild in his eye. “Did you not hear me, slave? Go, dust the East Wing!”

“Alexander, dust does not form here. You know that.”

“How dare you speak to me like that! I am your emperor!” Alexander screamed, suddenly shaking. “It is of no matter now, we must attack soon! Prepare my chariots!”

He turned his mad eye on me, “And you, child, arm yourself, for by this eve, we shall ride on Napoleon!”

“Alexander,” The Shepherd said again, with a sad resigned tone. “We must be going. The visitor I brought you has more to see."

"And when we arrive, we shall burn his fields, and salt his earth!" Alexander continued to shout madly, not seeming to have heard The Shepherd. I followed The Shepherd to the door, as Alexander continued to fill the air with his plans of victory and destruction. He didn't seem to notice or care that we were departing, so we closed the door behind us. It shut with a boom that echoed throughout the great palace below, playing through the empty rooms and off the hard walls.

Then, it was silent, his voice closed out by the door.

We began to descend the many staircases, making our way back to the entrance. As we walked the quiet halls, they seemed different to me. Made of cold stone and hard marble, they were breathtaking but cold, dreary, and desolate. Soon, we were back in the entrance hall with the massive door. I stopped before going out. I looked at the weapons again.

“Is this heaven?” I asked.

The Shepherd smiled wistfully. It was a tired, knowing smile. “As close as it can be for him.”

We stepped outside into the sun and began to walk away from the palace, deeper into the hills.

I looked back. Against the planes, the building seemed strangely alone, the palace rising out of the landscape, with nothing around besides the grass, hills, and rocks.

***

As we entered the foothills, Alexander's house disappeared from view, and the landscape began to change. As we walked, we started to see streams, rocks, hills, and even a few trees. Paths began to cross the landscape, and soon, we took to a well-maintained gravel road, leading between well-manicured gardens.

The sound of clopping feet and wheels crunching on gravel caused me to look around. I saw behind me an approaching horse-drawn carriage. The vehicle had an open roof and four large wheels. With the comfortable-looking benches and beautifully painted wood, it looked perfect for a pleasure ride. Pulling it was a single chestnut stallion, tall, strong, and royal. The vehicle itself had an occupant but no driver, and it appeared as if the horse was confidently leading.

“Oh, it's the Guide!” The women in the carriage said. She was beautiful, with smooth skin and perfectly shaped features, like she had been carved out of stone. She wore a small and stylish bonnet and bright blue dress that looked both comfortable but also elegant.

“It’s lovely to see you! Oh, and you brought a visitor? How fun!” She said as the stagecoach came to a stop next to us.

“Charlotte, it's good to see you. This is a visitor that I am showing around the Kingdoms.”

“Lovely, well, don’t just stand there, get in!” She squealed. “I was on my way to Wolfgangs to play Whist.”

The Shepherd gestured for me to step in. I did so.

“Charlotte Bronte,” The woman said, shaking my hand. She looked at me, almost expectantly.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Bronte,” I said.

She paused again, expectantly. I smiled, awkwardly, not sure what else to do.

She sighed, in exasperation, and sat back in her cushioned bench.

“How is the morning coming along?” The Shepherd asked as he stepped into the carriage.

Charlotte's face lit up at the question. “Oh, absolutely horrible! I have been trying to find a certain shade of daffodils, and I seem at a complete loss…”

***

The topic of her morning kept Charlotte occupied most of the ride, but I didn’t mind too much. She was a well-spoken and witty woman, and easy to listen to. As we went, the carriage passed through progressively more beautiful gardens, with large green lawns, covered gazebos, hedged walks, and rows of flower beds.

We also passed a few manor houses. None were as large or imposing as Alexanders, but they were all still spacious compared to my earthly home, with beautiful and graceful architecture that complimented the landscape around. Soon, we arrived at a manor house at the center of the estate. Our stagecoach pulled under a stone arch, and into a delightful cobblestone courtyard. It was all easy to look upon, with well-placed windows, flowering vines, and intricately carved wooden doors.

We all stepped out, and Charlotte started to walk towards the house. Before following, the Shepherd stopped and patted the horse, “Thank you, Sam. It was a wonderful ride,” He said, looking into its large eyes.

The horse nodded, as if pleased, and then pulled the stagecoach away and out another arch. We followed Charlotte, who was waiting, foot tapping, at the door.

When we caught up, she pushed inside. As soon as the door opened, the most magnificent music poured out. I had never heard someone play a piano so skillfully or quickly.

“Sounds like we might be interrupting Wolfgang,” The Shepherd said with a smile.

“He never minds,” Charlotte said. “WOLFGANG!”

The Shepherd gave me an amused glance, implying that he definitely did mind.

The music came to a stop halfway through a beautiful rise. There was a pause, which seemed to hold a pregnant sigh. “Yes, Charlotte?”

“I brought visitors!” Charlotte shouted.

She led the way through the halls, each room was decorated pleasantly, with perfectly crafted furniture and colorful wallpaper, whether of birds, forests, or flowers.

We soon came out into a larger sitting room. Upon its back wall were two large windows which looked out onto a calm green back lawn. The sunlight from outside lit the comfortable chairs, sofas, and low tables inside. There was enough seating for quite a gathering, and if it was pulled away, the room was large enough for even a dance. The centerpiece of the space was a large grand piano, sparkling black in the sunlight.

Standing next to the piano was a man with soft facial features, but sharp intelligent eyes. He wore red trousers and a stylish yellow overcoat.

“Charlotte, you could have at least sent a bird to warn me,” Wolfgang said, but then turned to look at us. “Guide, it’s good to see you. A pleasant surprise. Who is this you have brought with you?”

“Just a visitor. We won’t stay too long,” The Shepherd said.

Wolfgang stepped forward and shook my hand. “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, pleased to meet you.”

I goggled at him and looked between him, and the piano. “Mozart, as in, the Mozart?” I asked.

His eyes sparkled with obvious pleasure, but he did well restraining himself. “Mozart is my father, I’m just Wolfgang to my friends."

Charlotte fell back into a chair and sunk deep into the cushions. “They always recognize you.” She pouted, “It's because you're a man. We female artists are never discussed as much as we deserve.”

“Or, nobody reads books,” Mozart said, turning. “Where is everybody else then?”

And with that, a broad blonde man stumbled in.

“Van Gogh, it's good to see you!”

***

I was introduced to more guests, including Mark Twain, Micheal Angelo, Mary Shelly, Alfred Hitchcock, and Jeffery Chaucer.

As the group began to mix, food was brought out, luscious grapes, well-aged cheese, and magnificently baked bread. Many of the group began to play a card game, which I joined in for a few rounds. The Shepherd explained the rules to me, but I still was confused most of the game.

Growing tired after my fifth loss, I left the card table and went to try some of the food. It was excellent. While eating, I found that I was almost quite alone with Mark Twain, who was also lazily eating grapes.

“How long will they keep it up?” I asked.

“Hmm?” He asked.

I gestured at the group. “How long will the game last?”

“Oh, yes. For as long as they like. Normally they get bored of it eventually.”

“Then what will they do?”

“Whatever they want,” He responded like it was a silly question. “Maybe they’ll dance, or paint, or go for a walk, or argue, or eat or chat. Whatever they like. This is heaven after all.”

“Isn’t where Alexander lives, heaven?”

Mark Twain laughed, like that was an utterly absurd proposition. “Yes and no. You see, those who live in the plains are all rather full of themselves. They forget the real purpose of eternity is happiness, not power.”

“What about the other Kingdom?” I asked, “I heard there were three.”

“The Peak Dwellers - zealots, really. I’ve never understood them. They sell their freedom to live in their silly little cottages. Peasants, in many ways. It is only here in the foothills that there is freedom and pleasure all around. Here, every man is his own master and can do as he desires."

"Why have three kingdoms, if this one is so much better?" I asked.

"Well, it's about two ends of an extreme, and here, we have the healthy balance. Only the most accomplished, intelligent, and correct come here."

Before I could ask another question, a dance was proposed, and I lost Twain's interest.

***

After one of the most delightful afternoons I’d ever encountered, the Shepherd approached me and extracted me from the game of lawn bowling in the backyard.

“It is time to be going, now,” He said. “They could keep this up for ages longer.”

I agreed and realized I had somewhat forgotten why we were here. I followed him, and no one seemed to notice we were leaving. “Very enjoyable,” I commented.

“It is for them,” The Shepherd said.

I frowned at him. “Who wouldn’t it be for?”

“For myself, I feel it would get stale after a few centuries,” He looked at me, a twinkle in his eye.

I frowned again. I hadn’t thought of that. You do have to stay in the afterlife for quite some time.

“Where were you?” I asked. He had disappeared somewhere over the course of the afternoon.

“Fetching this,” He said, holding up a leather-bound book. “It is for someone we are going to see.”

“Where are we going now?” I asked.

“Up,” The Shepherd said, gesturing to the distant peaks. 

***

If you would like to read the conclusion of this story, and the final kingdom, please click here: https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=160765