London 1864 March

The London rain came down hard, cold like daggers on the streets; reminding the citizens that the warm indoors was the only escape from the elements. For the unfortunate, you could hear the cries in the streets of those trying to find shelter in the cover ways of overhangs of buildings and huddling up against them. Beggars and vagabonds could be seen hiding in the nooks and crannies in meager refuge. The iron from horseshoes tinged against the pavement with the slosh of the water splashing, and the loud protest could be heard from the horses as they pulled the Hansom. The Shopkeepers began to close as darkness and the rain had finally said it was the end of the dreary day.

The air was always cold in London. It was always miserable and raining, it seemed like the sun was never shining. It was hidden behind the clouds or even huge clouds of smog coming from some factory or another, Anthony thought to himself. His health had become rather poor lately. He had just come back from graduating from St. Andrews University with honors, he felt he had his fill of England and was ready to be traveling again. His leather boots splashed on the hard cobblestone streets as he made his way to his residence. This time at least he wasn’t coming home to an empty house with just housemaids. He was extremely thankful during his residency at St. Andrews, he had made a very close friend who, like himself had an itch for adventure.

Anthony finally reached his residence, his faithful butler opened the door to the old large home and greeted him.

“Did you have a good walk today sir,” Mr. Williams said to Anthony.

“It was cold and wet, the book store didn’t have anything new. I was hoping to find something on a dead language I have been researching but no such luck.” Anthony said stiffly.

“Sir, your grandfather’s attorney has been coming by each day for the past month. As per the contract, once you have finished your studies I am no longer supposed…” but Mr. Williams was cut off.

“I can’t deal with it. I prefer the way things are,” Anthony huffed under his breath.

“Mr. Martin is in the study,” Mr. Williams sighed. The aging butler prim and proper, tilted his slightly wrinkled face. “I believe he is waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Anthony pulled off his rain slicker and hung it up. He pulled off his leather boots which were dripping with mud from the harsh London streets, then slipped on his house shoes and began to go up the stairs.

The house was quite large, many would consider it a generational manor, and one of the few standing in downtown London. The Lowery family wealth went way back, and secretly, Anthony knew he could trace his heritage to several different royal blood lines; however all of them had been wiped out. He was the last known remaining heir of the Lloyd Clan. The crests could be seen all over the house. His grandfather used to boast that his blood line could be traced back to even that of Alexander the Great, and how he had proof of how they smuggled out one of the sons, and kept him hidden. Anthony all thought this was rubbish and just a bunch of tall tales by a man who loved to dote on him while he was very young. The house was very warm and inviting, full of collection pieces from all over the globe that his grandfather, and his entire family had spent their entire lifetimes collecting. There was no rhyme nor reason to the collection and often times pieces would be asked to go on loan to a museum for a period of time, for research. The family made money as side income this way as well, also lending out priceless artifacts to colleges to be studied for a few pounds.

Anthony opened the door to the study and found Flynn, his friend right behind the door, then SLAM.

“Alright laddie.” He said with his thick Scottish brogue. “It’s been long enough. We are doing this. Sit on yer arse and let’s just get this over with.” Flynn blocked the door and began pushing Anthony to the leather sitting chair. “Look I’ve even got a wee bit of brandy to calm your nerves.”

“Alright,” Anthony said, a bit shocked as he slid into his grandfather’s old sitting chair. The fire felt good on his face and chest after being outside in the rain. The rain bound to his dirty blonde hair, giving it a greasy appearance. “Is this a joke?”

“Nope,” Flynn gave him a big toothy grin under his fine combed, dark mustache. “Tony, you’re like a brother to me. We all want what is best for you. I agreed to come live with you, especially after yer paw died. With me having no siblings, you’re all the family I’ve got as well. Kick my arse out on the street if you have to after this, but it has to be done. First have a drink,” he chuckled. “At least with the drink, if you try to slug me you might miss!”

Anthony took a drink of the brandy. He felt the warm alcohol go down smoothly, warming his insides; then filling his nose with the sweet smell of oak, vanilla and various spices. He leveled his breathing, as a deep panic began to roll over him. He had a feeling on what was coming. He did not want to face this at all. Things could stay exactly the way they were.

The house was taken care of, he had no cares or worries. Yet for every day for the past month the attorney showed up with two large brief cases and a key Anthony had seen before as a child. He remembered his grandfather holding it and then his father. His father got very sick after having that stupid key.

Anthony took another drink from the crystal brandy glass and again tried to level his breathing. What was he so afraid of? He knew as a grown man, that a simple metal object did not make his father pass away. Rationally this was insane to think that was ever the case. Then why was he sitting here feeling like he was about to have his heart come out of his chest? He could feel the blood drain from his face. Flynn took notice and dragged the other chair next to him and began to refill his glass.

“Okay there is something you’re not telling me here,” he said solemnly. “I don’t know what is so scary about a few brief cases. I mean if you get stark raving mad at the twit, just look around the room.” He extended his arm to show the various sabers, broadswords, spears and several guns proudly and carefully mounted across the walls. “I will personally help you chase him out, but I want to use the Zulu shield and spear. Oh it will be a hoot to see us chasing him into the streets with that! Old Ms. McKreedy will, I think, croak, she is always so nosy. I will even howl a bit! Rain or no rain sounds like fun.”

Anthony began to laugh at the thought of his perfectly groomed Scottish friend, who was in his usual 3 piece attire running out the door with a giant Zulu shield and spear, chasing the tiny lawyer.

“Mr. Burke is actually a very nice man. I have known him since I was a child actually. His wife and kids are wonderful people too. At his age, I think he has great-grandchildren now. His wife might tear off my ear if I gave him a good fright and she would be in the right. However I do say giving Ms. McKreedy a good show maybe on our things to do before we take off. She is an old hag with nothing better to do then stare out the window and yell at all the passerby's.” Anthony said still chuckling.

“So, what is bothering you?” Flynn asked.

“I can’t exactly explain it. It’s silly actually. It’s something he holds. It’s completely irrational as well. Now that I think about it, I am guessing it’s probably the key to unlock the brief cases he is slugging around. They are really heavy too.” Anthony put his head is his hands and let out a sigh of relief. How could he have been so unreasonable. He let his imagination run wild.

“As a child, I saw my grandfather with the key, then I saw my father with the key. Shortly after that he started to fall ill. Once my father was in possession of the key, he passed away, I think about five years after that. I was fairly young. Thankfully, my grandfather was still around to raise me. There were several things that didn’t add up. My grandfather was extremely old when he passed, I can only guess his age. Recording birth was not the thing back then, apparently. I did ask him one day. I got some old fairy tale, he would say I am as old as the mountains, as lofty as the winds, as wise as the great oceans, you know rubbish like that. What strikes me as the odd part is my grandfather was aging when my father passed away. He was already very old. All of a sudden, it’s like he froze in time, like he had something to finish. When I went away to college, he immediately started to age overnight. I came home from my freshmen year in college, during winter break, before I started to take you home and he was a different man. Frail as a feather, it almost seemed you could blow him away and he could be carried off by the wind. I was not surprised to get the telegram to come home in February to see him one last time. I saw the key again.” Anthony took another deep drink letting the brandy calm him down.

Stolen novel; please report.

“I am sure that it was him just getting papers in order. You see this house its practically a museum. It can get very stressful sometimes, with all the inquiries from all the universities and museums; that’s not even including private dealers or art collectors who want to paint various items. We do make profit from lending our certain items from time to time. Letters do stack up, keeping track of who has what, getting shipping costs in order, it does take a lot. I can see where the stress can do harm on the body. My family has been taken advantage of several times, so everything has stayed in house or with very close friends.”

“I remember you saying when I came to live here, you might be asking me to help you from time to time,” Flynn said. “You have no worries me nicking anything from you. I might have a bit of fun with some of this stuff, but I think you already knew that.” He gave a wide toothy grin.

“Oh, I don’t blame you,” Anthony laughed deeply. “You know that suit of armor that is downstairs?”

“The one with the pointy nose?” Flynn asked.

“That’s the one.” Anthony smiled.

“What about it?” Flynn asked. Anthony sat further back into the leather arm chair and let the fire warm him. A smile came across his face from the memory from so long ago.

“I think I may have been about 5, maybe younger. My grandfather had just had the piece moved from the house in the country, to here.” Anthony said.

“Wait, you have a house in the country? Then why are you here all the time instead of there?” Flynn asked.

“I’ll get to that. I was actually about 6 I think and I found out the head or mouth could open. We had just hired a new cook. I wanted to scare the cook and have a good laugh. I was going to hide under the table and pop out with the mouth open.” Anthony chuckled again.

“How’d that pan out?” Flynn asked delighted.

“Not so well.” Anthony held his head in shame. “My grandfather thought it was the funniest thing he ever saw, I got my head stuck in the thing. I bashed my head on the table trying to scare the cook and that’s how the helmet jammed. We had to find a Farrier to help get me out. My bottom was sore for a week I swear.” Anthony said. Flynn was almost rolling on the floor with laughter.

“The country house, why don’t you go there?” he asked. “This place is wonderful, but I know you bloody hate London and most of the time we were at St. Andrews, you were outside in the clean air on the grass reading or just wandering around.”

Anthony took a deep breath. Deep memories flooded him both good and bad. A sharp pain hit his chest like a thousand needles. He remembered her face, her kind words, her warm embrace. He remembered all the songs she sang before she put him to bed every night.

“My grandfather really is the only one who went back to the old house. My mother passed away there. My father, nor I, have returned since she was laid to rest.” He said with a crack in his voice. The tight feeling in his chest returned. What if that key had something to do with the country house? Was that what made his father so sick? Returning to the house where his mother passed away? A thousand questions flooded through Anthony’s mind. He again lost color to his face. He had buried these memories deep within his mind, locked away for the pain it brought him. Loss was something Anthony was used to, even at a young age. He barely remembered his mother’s parents as his Grandfather had his family traveling across India, parts of Africa, even as a very small child he remembered celebrating his third birthday with a grand celebration, holding lion cubs with one of his Grandfathers wealthy business partners, playing in some palace in the Sudan desert. He never lacked money or love, but what he did lack most of all was a grounding point. The house in the country, where his mother would lay picnics for him under the cool willow trees, where they would go wading in the streams; while not as lavish as some of the massive castles they would visit, was still home.

He remembered her last days in that house. It seemed the once warm house that used to welcome him with open arms after his travels became cold and empty. As the warmth from her body began to fade away, so did the laughter from the hallways. As she took her last breathe, any life the house once had vanished that day and a gray cold set into the walls. Or had he just imagined it all because of the pain of losing his mother. It seemed so trivial now. It had been so long ago and he had never gone back. His father never forced him to return to the house where his mother lie buried. He never even thought about it, until today. Anthony’s grandfather and father now were at that house on the top of the hill, in the family cemetery overlooking that cold house now. The house was still lived in by the servants and very well maintained. The land was rented out by the locals and by rights he was landlord to many. Another source of income is all he thought. These all were trivial matters to Anthony. All that was set in his mind, was to get as far away from London as possible. He did not want to deal with the bloody attorney.

“I did love going to that house once. I just don’t think I am ready to face it yet.” Anthony breathed in shallow. “It’s full of very painful memories.”

“Mate, that poor man has been here every day for a month. It’s very urgent whatever he has to say.” Flynn said softly. He patted Anthony hard on the shoulder. “I got your back. Besides I am sure its just taxes and such. You know the royals need their cut and so does good old parliament. They are still hurting after the war to those farmers in America over the tea nonsense so they have to get their money somewhere! Might as well get it from us blokes over here.”

The door opened to the study slowly. A short older man with spectacles and a very neat trimmed graying mustache entered the room. He approached the two young gentleman. His wrinkles tightened around his eyes and mouth when he smiled, greatly showed his age; dropped any presumption of a threat.

“You must be Mr. Martin, and no sir this has nothing to do with taxes.” The man chuckled a bit. “Anthony, are you calm enough not to chase me out with a Zulu spear? Although I am in agreement with Mr. Martin, that would give Ms. McKreedy quite the something to talk about!” The gentleman extended his hand to Flynn and he stood up from his chair to accept it.

“Call me Flynn sir, at least all my friends do, it’s a pleasure.” Flynn shook his hand. Mr. Williams came in shortly after and brought the two heavy old brief cases. He then laid them down on the old oak desk by the fireplace.

“If you won’t be needing anything else, I will take my leave Mr. Burke.” He said very politely.

“No James, that will do thank you kindly. I think Anthony is over his shock now that we have him cornered.” Mr. Burke took the seat behind the desk and gave a warm smile to Anthony. Mr. Burke ran his fingers along the old cases, but did not open them. An old memory became very vivid in Anthony’s mind. He remembered his grandfather had the same ring, however, he rarely wore it and only on special occasions, or pulled it out when needed. He could have sworn that he buried his grandfather with it.

“Mr. Burke, can I ask you something?” Anthony felt like his chest was on fire. “Your ring? Where did you get it?”

“All in due time son. Take a deep breath. I know you have many questions. I have one for you first and Flynn as well. Once I open this there is no turning back. I need to know if you would like to know more about your father and grandfather. Why they went all over the world? I need to know if Flynn can be trusted as well.”

“I can vouch for Flynn; I am the only family he’s got.” Anthony said. Flynn smiled at Anthony.

“Anthony is my brother; I will help wherever I can.” Flynn said with a soft tone in his voice. Mr. Burke took a deep breath.

“Your financial situation is fine. You will not need anything, you have funds enough to last you many lifetimes.” Mr. Burke said sadly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Anthony sat up confused.

“Flynn this door is thick and sound proof, I know because I was here when his grandfather had it made. I need you boys to both sit down. You might want to pour yourself another drink. Flynn, make sure that door is locked tight then sit down. We have a lot to discuss.” Mr. Burke ran his fingers through his gray hair and let out a soft sad breath.