Mama's Bracelet
An 'Inquisitor's Promise' drabble.
Author’s Note 1: This is a drabble involving the characters of my novel Inquisitor’s Promise. It was inspired by
’s prompt that he posted on Substack Notes: “I never wanted the heirloom, but my father insisted.”Author’s Note 2: This story actually came in last minute (so to speak), but that’s been kind of a pattern lately. You can thank
and his latest Note for this story being posted this week instead of the next.
A hooded figure, the Master of Ceremonies knocked on the front door of the unassuming abbey.
The voice from inside responded, “Who desires entrance?”
“Aphrodisia, Princess of Lepanto, Matriarch of House Aquilanus, and Fief Lady of Prochyta.”
“I know her not.”
The Master of Ceremonies knocked once more.
“Who desires entrance?”
“Aphrodisia, a mortal, sinful human.”
“Let her come in.”
***
Aeneas Aquilanus gazed absentmindedly out the open window of his bedroom. With Castle Aquila perched atop Prochyta, the teenager could see the tops of stonemasonry that dotted the island. Just yesterday, the streets below were mobbed by people mourning the death of his mother. He still couldn’t believe that she had been entombed – that she was gone.
He must have spent hours, lost in thoughts all alone, when there was a gentle knock. Aeneas knew exactly who that was. The young man could feel anger rising deep from within, his visioned darkened.
“Come in, papa,” Aeneas said, his voice barely disguising his anger.
Anchises Aquilanus stepped in. He was a man in his thirties, close to hitting forty; his dark hair and handsome face showed that the son took after the father. “My son, I know this must not be easy for you.”
Aeneas rolled his eyes. “But it sure is for you.”
The older man raised his eyes, fully understanding his son’s implication. Yet, he remained calm. “What are you saying?”
“Mama was always a sickly one! And you’ve been in a Josephite Marriage ever since I was born. You must be tired of being married to someone you can’t…”
“Aeneas!”
The younger man took a deep breath. “I’ve also heard the rumors, papa.”
“What rumors?”
“What do you think?” Aeneas said angrily. “Mistresses! That’s what all the coffeeshops in the Nepolian Republic are talking about.”
“Aeneas,” Anchises said calmly; he too had heard the rumors. “I love your mother.”
The teenager looked away. “I don’t believe you.”
“Be that as it may,” Anchises began, “that’s not what I’m here for. I have something for you.”
The older man then took out a bracelet – it was red and yellow in color; a swooping black eagle of House Aquilanus was imprinted on it – and handed it to his son.
Aeneas’ eyes widened in horror. “Mama’s bracelet? You can’t mean…”
Anchises nodded. “I do. Take it, it’s yours now.”
Even to this day, Aeneas was not sure what exactly came over him. There was anger, to be sure. But for him to take that precious heirloom from his father’s hand and throw it out the window was simply inconceivable until it happened.
“Aeneas!” the older man said in anger. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I hate you, papa!”
And Aeneas stormed out of his room.
***
In anger, Aeneas paid the castle servants no mind as he brushed past everyone he ran across until he finally left the Castle Aquila complex. Once he was outside, he made his way to the train station – located underground but its entrance was just outside of the castle gates.
Aeneas was sure that he was probably drawing eyes right now given who he was – it was not every day that the son of Prochyta’s Fief Holder would use the Metro – but it was the only way for him to get anywhere around the island given he had just angered his father.
With the Metro, the young man could have gone all the way to Nepoli City, but he would have to head east for that. No, he wanted to go west instead, to where his mother was entombed.
***
The Crypt of House Aquilanus was the name given to the unassuming abbey right in front of Aeneas. After getting out of the train, he quickly left the station and ran to the complex. It was quite the distance and he stopped to catch his breath. The young man was about to enter when he was greeted by a fatherly voice:
“Aeneas? What are you doing here?”
That voice was of Fr. Davide, the priest who had celebrated the Requiem Mass of Aeneas’ mother. Though ‘celebrate’ was not exactly the word that Aeneas would use at the moment.
“Padre,” Aeneas responded. “I’m just…”
“Don’t lie, Aeneas,” the priest chastised. “It’s unbecoming for an Inquisitor, even one in training, to lie.”
The young man was silent, not knowing what to say.
In response, Fr. Davide put his hand on Aeneas’ shoulder. “Tell me what troubles you, my son.”
***
The priest looked at Aeneas incredulously. “Is that so?’ he asked. “Do you really believe that your papa murdered your mama?”
Aeneas turned to his interlocutor, unsure. “Now that you put it that way…”
“It sounds ridiculous?” Fr. Davide interrupted. “Should it not?”
“But mama only got cancer because papa had her take that medicine,” Aeneas protested.
“Good intentions sometimes go awry,” the priest replied. “He only wanted to heal her condition. You know this, my son.”
Aeneas opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. He knew there was no defending his actions. The young man looked down in shame. “I… I was angry.”
“Angry at your father?”
“Yes,” Aeneas said, frowning. “But also angry at God, believe it or not.”
“Both often come hand-in-hand,” the priest remarked.
Aeneas nodded to acknowledge his interlocutor. “I was wrong.” Having been sitting down, the young man then stood up, gazing to what was in front of him. The wall had two door-like structures. The one on the left was blank, but the right had a name etched into the stone: Aphrodisia Palaiologina Aquilana. The two men were in the chamber where Aeneas’ mother was entombed. “And my actions did not honor her. I have to apologize to papa.”
But a third voice rang out, “I have to apologize too, Aeneas.”
“Papa?” Aeneas said in shock.
Anchises was standing right at the entrance of the chamber. Aeneas could see that his father was holding on to… something. But the young man was more shocked that his father was even here in the first place. Of course, it made sense that his father would know where he’d be given all the people in the Metro who would have seen him. Also, private shuttles were much faster than the notoriously inefficient Metro.
“Very convenient,” Fr. Davide said, smiling. He then turned towards Aeneas. “I’d make use of this opportunity if I were you.”
Aeneas did not need to be told twice. He ran towards his father and embraced him.
It was Anchises who spoke first: "I’m sorry, my son. I was insensitive and failed to take into account your feelings.”
“No, papa,” Aeneas replied. “I’m sorry for everything I did. I threw away mama’s bracelet. It’s been with House Aquilanus for generations and I…”
“Worry not,” Anchises said. With their embrace now broken, Anchises showed Aeneas what was in his hand: broken pieces in red and yellow.
“This is…”
“Yes. Your mother’s bracelet.”
“How?”
“When you threw the bracelet away, two castle guards happened to be near the wall it had hit. It shattered into pieces, as you can see. But thankfully, the guards had the sense to gather them together and I soon became aware of this,” Anchises explained.
Aeneas breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good thing that his bedroom had been in the inner parts of Castle Aquila. “Even so,” he said with a grimace. “It’s still completely destroyed.”
But Anchises smiled in return. “Do you think this bracelet could have been passed down through the generations of House Aquilanus if parts of it hadn’t been replaced over time? We’ll fix it, and it’ll be good as new.”
Aeneas smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Anchises replied with a smile of his own. “Afterwards, you will give it to a lady of your own. May you love her as much as I love your mother.”
“Thanks, papa,” Aeneas said. “Although… I’ll let you hold on to it for now. I don’t think I can trust myself with it just yet.”
“Fine,” Anchises relented. “I’ll give it to you once you’re a full-fledged Inquisitor. It’ll be your graduation present.”
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You have this knack for writing the emotions so well that I feel your intent.
It's why I bought your book, and read your stories.
It's something that professionals in Hollywood could stand to learn.