A short story by Steven Scott

A gentle breeze blew through the branches of a dense oak tree.  One of many on the vast Ashford family estate. A group sat in the shade beneath it with a picnic lunch spread across an argyle blanket. 

“Boulderdash!” Mister Hare cried, “You could never run to that tree and back in less than a minute.” He said this, though a hint of smile could be seen through the white fur on his face.

Abigail Ashford puffed her cheeks in indignation. “I most certainly can! I may not be a rabbit like you but I can run just as fast.” She jumped up from the blanket and scone crumbs tumbled from the folds of her dress.

“A rabbit he may be, but a fat one. I’ve snared many a plump beast like him, as they can never resist the temptation of carrots.” The woman smirked.

Mister Hare returned a slice of carrot cake to his plate, decidedly uneaten.

“Now Artemis, Mister Hare is my friend just like you. We must be nice to our friends.” Abigail scolded the goddess. 

“My apologies Miss Abigail. It is in my nature to speak on the glories of the hunt.”

“It’s alright, I’m sure Mister Hare forgives you.” She gave a pointed glance to the rabbit in question. 

“Yes, yes, of course, apology accepted.” No longer able to resist, the rabbit picked up the carrot cake and rapidly devoured it.

“Now you had better watch, Mister Hare, I am going to run to that tree and back in less than a minute.” Without another word, she took off, her saddle oxford shoes digging into the ground. 

Abigail loved to run, and not only because it was the one time her long brown curls stayed out of her eyes. They flew behind her like her very own little red riding hood. It was also her favorite thing to do with her father. Though it was her mother’s responsibility to educate her, her father was the one who always let her have fun. They used to run from tree to tree while playing tag, for the trees were a safe haven. It would be the first thing they would do together when her father returned from the war. He was a soldier, like Artemis’ sister, Athena. 

She had reached the tree and turned to go back, but someone was yelling from the house.

“Miss Ashford! It’s time for your lessons!”

Was it noon already? Abigail looked to her friends, but they had disappeared from their spot on the blanket. She shrugged, as they tended to do that sometimes. She turned her attention back to the house where her tutor waited.

Mrs. Fortemps was an older woman with a grumpy face and worse temperament. She had originally been the estate’s head of housekeeping, but after Abigail’s mother left, her duties increased to tutor. They increased further when Mr. Ashford left for the war. The rest of the staff had to be let go for the Ashford family fund had all but dried up. It was only Abigail and Mrs. Fortemps now, to the girl’s utter unhappiness. Though she appreciated all the woman did for her, it was difficult not to resent her for it. She made her bathe, she made her eat Brussels sprouts, and she even made her learn how to multiply twelve times sixteen. When would she need to know how to do that, she often wondered.

She shook herself from these thoughts as she entered the mansion. Today was her history lesson. Last week, Mrs. Fortemps told her of the heroic Jeanne d’Arc and she wondered who she would get to meet today. 

The long corridors of the Ashford home were decorated with historical artifacts and paintings. She had met many of her friends in these halls. Looking at the plaque next to each one and then running to the library to research the people they belonged to. 

“Off to another lesson Miss Abigail?” The man’s Italian accent was like music to her ears. 

“I am, Mister Polo. History today.”

“If I remember correctly you were off to a History lesson the day we met, no?”

“Yes, and on the way there you taught me a game using both parts of your name. Then I asked Mrs. Fortemps about you and she said that you didn’t create that game. But I think she was lying. She likes to ruin my fun.” They both giggled before they noticed Mrs. Fortemps peek her head out of a door further down the hallway. 

“Miss Ashford? Who are you talking to?”

Abigail opened her mouth to say it was Mister Polo, but when she glanced over at where he had been, he was gone, just like the others. None of them seemed to like her tutor very much. It must have been because she wasn’t very fun. 

“No one, just talking to myself.” She could hear the woman mumble something under her breath.

“Well it is time for your lesson, come and sit down.”

The room they had set up as a makeshift classroom had six round wooden tables. Each had a stack of books and the necessary things for learning like slate and chalk, rulers, and paper and pencil. The tables were divided by subject: History, Linguistics and Literature, Science, Maths, Religion, and Geography.

“What will we be learning today?” Abigail asked tentatively. 

“Of the horrible King Henry VIII and his six wives.” The pair sat at the table in the middle of the room upon which books from all eras of history were stacked. The two began to talk about his early life and his marriage to Catherine of Aragon. 

These were the only times that the two really got along. They both shared an unquenchable love of history and thirst for knowledge. Most lessons only lasted for an hour or so, but on history day, the two could talk for hours.

It was three o’clock before Abigail finally made her way out of the study heading for the kitchen. She hoped that Artemis could help her make a small snack before she found Mister Hare to play cards. Making her way back down the long corridor, she could hear the slightest sounds of yelling. The kitchen was in the farthest corner of the mansion, but it sounded as if that was where the commotion was coming from. She picked up her pace, and ran the rest of the way there.

“You really must leave sir; you are not welcome in Miss Abigail’s home!” Mister Hare’s voice was muffled through the swinging door. 

Abigail pushed through the door to see what he was fussing about. To her astonishment there was a man standing at the other end of the kitchen. Artemis had her bow pointed at him. 

“What is going on here!” Abigail cried. “Mister Hare, why are you yelling? Artemis, put down your bow.” 

“This man is not nice, mistress. He must leave immediately.” The Huntress reluctantly relaxed the draw-string of her weapon but did not take her eyes off of the man. 

“Who are you, sir?”

He was fat, bald, and wore a large chain around his neck. “I am Henry, King of England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and France. Though why I should answer to the likes of you is beyond me. How old are you, girl?”

“I am almost eight, sir.”

The King paused before saying quietly, “I had a son about your age. I suppose he became King after I died.”

“You died? You mean you went to a better place. Like my mother? Perhaps you saw her there. Her name was Margret Ash-“

“A better place? What nonsense are you on about? When you die you’re dead. I should know. There is no happy ending or rainbows, just black emptiness. Everyone goes to Hell in the end I suppose.”

Abigail’s voice caught in her throat. “You’re wrong!” She managed to choke out. “My mother is in a better place, and when I am old enough I will see her again there! I’ll see everyone again!” 

“Weren’t you listening. There is no place to go to. You’re never going to see your mother again.” He picked up an apple and bit into it hard. 

Abigail fell to her knees. Tears welled up in her eyes and her cheeks were as red as the King’s apple. 

“Miss Abigail?” Mister Hare ran to her. “Now that is quite enough sir, you’re upsetting her.”

Angrily, Artemis loosed a Silver arrow that struck through the King’s chest. He vanished in silence. Then she too moved to Abigail’s side. 

“Abby, are you all right?” The goddess rarely used this nickname, but when she did it was a serious situation. 

Abigail had covered her face with her small hands. Her voice was muffled when she spoke. “They’ve all been lying to me. I’ve always thought that my mother wasn’t gone forever, that I would see her again soon. Where is she, if not a better place?”

“Hush child. King Henry is a man of little faith. He knows not where your mother is. My people believe in the Underworld. If you live a good life you are allowed to roam the Elysian Fields. If you did ill deeds, you were condemned to the depths of Tartarus. You are a Christian. Your people believe in Heaven and Hell. Henry is a bad man, so it is quite possible what he described was the domain of Satan.”

“But how can we be sure?” She wiped the remaining tears from her face and looked at the woman. 

Mister Hare answered first. “I’m afraid we can’t.”

Just then the doorbell rang, and echoed throughout the entire house.

“Who could that be?” The rabbit inquired.

Abigail took a deep breath and made her way to the door, looking back she said, “Well are you coming?”

When they arrived in the foyer Mrs. Fortemps had just gotten to the door. When she opened it, two men in uniform stood on the threshold. 

“We are looking for Miss Abigail Ashford?”

The woman turned to the young girl, but said nothing, she seemed to know something that Abigail didn’t.

When she got to the door, the two men got down on one knee to be at her height. They removed their hats and looked at her with sadness in their eyes. One of them handed her the Union Jack folded into a triangle with three medals resting upon it.

The other man spoke, “Miss Abigail Ashford, we regret to inform you that Mister Byron Ashford was killed in the line of duty. He was a brave soldier who served his Kingdom well and will always be remembered as a hero.” 

She didn’t speak. Arms shaking, she took the flag and hugged it to her chest. For the second time that day she found herself on the floor, weak and crying. She paid no mind as Mrs. Fortemps thanked the men and closed the door. 

“Abigail I-“

“Mrs. Fortemps, I want to be by myself.”

“How about I take you to your room, I-”

“No, please go.”

“Al-alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything, everything is going to be alright.”

When she got no response, the tutor begrudgingly left the girl on the floor with her flag.

Hours passed while Abigail was alone with her thoughts. Moonlight shone through the glass parts of the large double doors. She would never get to sit on that doorstep and watch the stars with her father again. She would never be able to play tag in the trees with him, or even make him his favorite peanut butter and jam sandwiches. What was she going to do?

“Abby?” Her friends had returned at last. 

Abigail was silent. 

“This isn’t the end, Miss Abigail.” Mister Hare sat before her, placing a paw on her knee. Just as Artemis and I are always here, so are your parents. No matter how far they’ve gone they are always here with you. Look.” He lifted her chin. 

On either side of him stood two very familiar figures. One wore a dark green uniform with medals adorned across his chest. The other wore a light blue dress and her brown curls fell neatly around her face. 

“Mother? Father? Is it really you?” 

Each of them took one of her hands in theirs. She was overjoyed as she leapt into their arms and wrapped them both in a hug.

Her mother said in her ear, “We love you, Abigail, and we always will.”

Then they were gone. Abigail fell asleep there in the foyer. Mrs. Fortemps must have come back to bring Abigail to bed, because when she woke she was in her familiar four-poster bed. She sat thinking. Somehow she knew that that was the last time she would see her parents, or any of her friends, ever again.

“Goodbye.” She whispered.