That night Brooke was already aboard the ship, which would dock at Lancaster Harbor at dawn. From there a carriage would wait to take them to the outskirts of London by nine in the morning to give Gilbert a final farewell and then to attend his solemn funeral.
It would have been much easier for them to disembark in the commercial port of Newport but their father had initially ruled out this proposal as he was afraid of entering the lands of Wales ruled by Gilbert's maternal family with whom he did not have good relations anyway.
However, the news had become known to almost all that in that solemn celebration the lord and lady of Wales, maternal grandparents of the deceased general, would also take part in this solemn celebration, in order to give a last farewell to their grandson.
Lord and lady Pembroke of Wales had never had close relations with their grandson, so much so that they refused to visit him after the death of their beloved daughter, but in that sad moment humanity was reborn in them and they agreed to take part in the funeral, knowing this would have been what their dear Lilian would have wished for.
At that moment Brooke was at the stern of the great ship that smoothed and lacquered with fresh paint stretched its white sails to the wind, which pushed them hard.
She stood there, watching the golden moon shine in the dark night sky.
Brooke had been explained, when she was still a child, by her own mother how important the moon was.
In the African tradition, the tradition of her mother's fathers, the moon was like a parent, that if admired she could satisfy her deepest desires.
She wished, she hoped that Gilbert could be there with her but that was impossible even if asked to the moon, so she just stood there with her blue eyes turned to the luminous star and her black curls closed in a short tail moved by the cold wind.
She was alone in the stern, all the rest of the persons there were for the most part drunk and no longer able to understand: dancing, drinking and toasting.
She didn't want to go there, it was a dangerous area especially for a girl like her who even if dressed as a man, could easily fall into the hands of some malicious person.
The thing that bothered Brooke even more of all was that even her brothers, in the company of their father had absolutely no problems in a strong family mourning to drink alcohol and end up getting drunk.
It was completely disrespectful celebrating and even being happy during a common bereavement.
Brooke was so alone, she was afraid to go down to the bottom of the ship, she was still sitting on the stern of the ship, with the ocean under her feet and the moon together with the stars to illuminate the environment.
It was cold around her, so much so that the girl further tightened inside her jacket.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the strong salty smell coming from the sea and tried in a desperate attempt to stay awake, not fall asleep, or else she would soon fall into the sea.
It would not be long before dawn, in fact the first lights slowly began to rise from the horizon of the sea, it would not have been so long since arriving in England.
-Good morning, Brooklyn- a familiar voice called her leading the young woman to turn around -I was wondering what happened to you, you didn't show up to celebrate, not even for a moment- Brooke turned.
She noticed Walter, her oldest half brother, struggling to crawl to the top of the ship.
The man's cheeks were as red as fire, and his voice trembled at times, she believed that he was too drunk to even think.
-I don't celebrate- Brooklyn admitted silently returning to observe the horizon in front of her -I wait and respect the death of my deceased brother- she admitted not deigning a single glance.
-Why do you respect the death of a person you don't even know?- Walter asked putting his face close to his younger brother's ear.
Brooke smelled so sickly and strong smell of alcohol and she noticed her with her great disgust that in the grip of alcohol, her brother had started to put a hand on her ass.
She feared that the man might discover her and so it was that when she felt her brother's hand sliding further forward in her intimate she had to immediately do something before Walter discovered Brooke did not possess any male genitals.
Brooklyn pulled the razor blade stored inside her trouser pocket and with a lightning action shook it so tightly to the man's throat that too drunk to respond stood there in terror.
-You may be a lord- Brooke started to speak full of rage as the blade pressed against the throat of the other -but for me you are nothing more than a despicable human scum- and at those words the girl pushed her brother away, that terrified fell on the wooden floor of the huge ship.
Brooke again turned her gaze to the horizon, she saw the warm sunlight and the distant harbour, the other ships docked there, the territories of England. She cast a second glance at the drunk brother still on the floor. .
-Notify our father and our other brothers- she continued to speak -warn everyone that we will soon arrive in Lancaster-.
At those words the man nodded quickly, full of fear and jumped to his feet again, albeit with difficulty until he hurriedly descended the wooden stairs that led downstairs.
The docking at Lancaster was calm and peaceful.
Just off the harbor road a carriage awaited them to take the family to the outskirts of London.
Brooke glanced around her noticing the crowded environment, but to her amazement she noticed that most of the ships arriving there were commercial ships.
She noticed the comings and goings of sailors carrying heavy loads of barley and wheat. Ships from all over the world...she sensed how the brackish air was fresh and clean and not smelling of fish as it used to be in the harbours of the Isle of Man.
But what struck Brooke most was the quiet and unusual landscape that characterized England.
The verdant clearings, the fresh air, the centuries-old and majestic trees that grew there.
There were no hills, not like in Man and the sun always shone in that place.
She observed everything from the small and precious little end of the black carriage and everything fascinated her.
The journey lasted at least three hours, from six in the morning, when the first light of dawn began to break, until nine in the morning, which was the right time before the parade of white floats, freshly lacquered, together with the parade of the royal guards accompanied the deceased prince consort from the short domain on his last journey.
She was there, in the midst of an infinite crowd of nobles who were preparing to observe and mourn the untimely death of Gilbert.
One thing she found completely unusual was the fact that instead of mourning in black and dark suits to mourn death, most of the people there owned white clothes, and this aspect had shocked Brooklyn.
Of course as closest relatives of the deceased, she, in the company of her family, were allowed to participate in the front row to the right of the main street and to her great surprise she could also notice who in the closest part, was a participant on the left of the main road.
Through the wheels of the huge chariots she could notice the lord and lady of Wales, maternal grandparents of her deceased brother: they stand there, perfect in their clothes and emotionless in their expression.
No one dared to cry a tear when the wagon that contained the body of the prince consort passed.
Brooke was thrilled, she could finally see Gilbert again, his pale face, his long, ash-coloured red hair falling below his shoulders, his hands placed one inside the other on his chest and the crown which thus covered most of his head.
For one last time finally, she could say goodbye to her brother. Once the mass was celebrated outside the cathedral the chariots resumed their long journey until the body returned to the interior of the royal mortuary.
Still afterwards, the crowd which previously occupied the sides of the road, vanished, as if by now they had lost interest in the ceremony.
Brooke glanced back to the opposite side of the road, she was looking for Lord and Lady Pembroke again, but she could not find them.
The crowd was now gone, and so it was both on her own and on the opposite side, so much so that even the queen and the princess regent had already left their posts.
-Good day, Lord Stanley- a voice called her father from the other side, so much to make Brooke turn around and realise that by now there was no one left apart from her and her parent -we give you our deepest condolences for the loss of your son-.
The figures of Lord and Lady Pembroke had mysteriously reappeared on their right, so much so that they took father and daughter by surprise.
At those polite words James Stanley bowed out of respect, lowered his head but said nothing.
He knew that between the Stanley family and the Pembrokes there was no good blood and all this was mainly connected to Lilian Pembroke, late daughter of Lord and Lady Pembroke and her death on the other hand connected to the war in Wales.
-Let me introduce you, the youngest of my children, Brooklyn- began the father placing one of his hands on Brooke's shoulder in a desperate attempt to make the situation less tense.
And at those words for the first time the young woman felt the emotion that two other nobles bowed her head to her and greeted her.
-If you have some time to spare ...- Lady Pembroke began to speak, arranging her grey and well-tied hair -we would really like to have a few words with you at the royal gazebo-.
Lord Stanley accepted that proposal even if not exactly convinced. While all four nobles headed towards the desired place they slowly began to speak.
They talked about things of little relevance, subjects that did not deserve great importance and mostly subjects arousing a certain boredom, until through the surrounding green and fresh fields they reached the gazebo.
It was a wonderful gazebo built in smooth walnut wood painted in white: it was large, it was splendid and upon their arrival the attendants of the Pembroke house had already prepared the table together with every precious and good tea porcelain service.
When everyone sat down that the subject escaped from Lord Pembroke's lips.
-We have considered it appropriate to call you here to talk about the disposition of Gilbert's body...our dear grandson- the man admitted stirring the white sugar in his own small cup with a teaspoon.
-Speaking with the princess we have established, his body will be kept in Wales, in the chapel of our family- admitted the lady completing her husband's words.
At these words James Stanley gasped taken by the fury of that insolent statement.
-How dare you?!- Lord Stanley asked in a fury, throwing back his precious chair -you have always refused to accept Gilbert, you never wanted to meet him, you let me raise him alone, and now only after death you pretend to take possession of his body?!- the man asked as the fury was glimpsed in his red face.
-We thought Gilbert was the cause of Lilian's death...our beloved daughter...before discovering that it was not entirely so...- continued to assert the Lord of Wales.
-How ... what do you mean?- Lord Stanley ventured back into his chair almost staggering, his face became completely pale.
Brooke saw evident fear in her father's face.
The Lord of Wales ventured a quick smile and admitted -You have always been like a flag, Lord Stanley, who with the wind passed on the side of those who offer more...we have in fact discovered that to take away the life of our Lilian was not the blood that she lost that night giving birth to your son, no, but rather a long-lasting poison that was poured on her calming herbal tea to relieve her pain, we found it out later by giving the drink to hounds who shortly after mysteriously lost their lives ...-.
-I don't know what you are saying...- admitted James Stanley sweating and thus bringing one of his hands on his forehead.
-I am saying that you were the cause of the death of our daughter, so it is up to us to take care of our dead grandson from now on...you killed our daughter who had discovered you just before giving birth in looking for useful documents to use in war, isn't it so?-.
-You have no proof!- her father complained pointing his finger at Lord Pembroke -you're trying to frame me!-.
-We noticed the lack of the document attesting the declaration of alliance between Wales and France- said Lord Pembroke -you are a spy Lord Stanley, but all this will soon have an end...-.
-Is it true father?- asked Brooke holding out a hand to the shoulder of her parent who was already completely mad with anxiety and fear and was sweating incredibly -did you kill the young lady of Wales Lilian Pembroke?-.
-Absolutely not!- the father got up again from his chair and began in the deepest terror, seeking in the last desperate attempts to persuade the lord and the lady of Wales to his innocence -I loved Lilian, there would be no reason I could have longed to kill her!-.
But the man's words were not convincing enough, thus leaving two guards of the Pembroke house, who then guarded the gazebo, grab the guilty man and held him by the arms.
Then the face of Lord Pembroke passed to the young Brooklyn, in the eyes properly scandalised and full of terror he was afraid of him.
On the other hand, they were rival families and at the very will they could also have killed the son along with his father.
But the lord was not a murderer and at that moment he felt mercy and compassion for the young Brooklyn who then had to witness the personal revenge of the Pembroke house.
-Boy...- the Lord of Wales began to speak pulling the young man up by the shoulder -you seem shrewd and intelligent, a young man smart enough to keep some secrets...-.
At those heartening words Brooke briefly nodded, she was afraid and could not let her life suddenly end because of her father.
-Run away, get out of here boy...- advised the man pointing a huge forest full of huge trees that were in front of them -run away and no one will bring you any harm, unless you open your mouth about what happened of today, understood boy?- finally asked the man slapping a second blow on Brooke's shoulder.
-I understand, sir- replied the young woman closing her full lips still parted by her fear.
-So to my three do what I told you and you will save your life- concluded the man finally removing his hand from her shoulder -one ... two ...- the man began to count and like the word "Three" reached Brooklyn's ears, she snapped away and started to run away. She ran very fast, the sun and the wind were beating in her face, but she couldn't stop, she couldn't afford it.
Her feet were so caressed by the fresh green grass, but she had to keep running, she couldn't afford to turn around.
She looked at the width that separated the trees, calculated it, she would soon be there.
Her hair tied in a short curly ponytail slipped back blown away by the wind as her blue eyes half-closed resisted it's strength.
And so it was that in a short time the slender and fast body of the young woman disappeared behind numerous trunks and verdant branches.
Brooke had run fast and long and finally stopped, she had to do it, to let some air get into her lungs.
She looked around, she could only see trees on the horizon and around her, she was no longer able to understand in which direction she had arrived.
She had run so long that she lost herself alone in a forest.
In the distance she was able to hear a distant shot, the firing of a rifle, and so finally imagined the Pembrokes' justice was finally once and for all over.
Brooke would not have mourned the death of her father in fact now that he was no longer alive it was like a relief for her not to have to be dependent on anyone anymore.
She had gotten her freedom and finally justice seemed to be on her side.
The thing that most alarmed the young woman was that in her own run she had lost her direction, and she was now there, alone.
Behind her long stretches of trees extended for kilometers, while in front of her, in a nearby clearing, the trees gave way to a large lake with crystal clear water.
The girl thus decided to approach it and to mirror her figure in the transparent water.
She noticed a slight cut above her eye that she had made while running away through the forest.
A branch must have scratched it, but this gave the young woman a more masculine appearance.
She heard from another side of the forest some footsteps, albeit light ones, approaching the large pond.
Brooke knew she had to do something, her instincts advised her to do so and so she decided to climb a high branch of a tree, where it would be more difficult to reach her.
Unfortunately for her, within the forest there were no trees higher than four meters and so she was forced to climb to a height corresponding to just three meters.
She placed her body there, on one of the more stable branches and waited for the arrival of a probable predator.
But instead of finding a predator in front of her she noticed the figure of a beautiful girl with long fire-coloured red hair. Brooke blushed incredibly.
The young woman had a rounded belly but in any case small and noticing this Brooke immediately understood that she was expecting a baby.
The girl was dressed in an elegant white dress and she carried a book of old workmanship in one hand and in the other she held an apple, red and fresh.
She thus followed every movement she made, until with her great surprise the young woman decided to stop just a few meters away from the tree where Brooke was stopping on a lake shore.
-Excuse me- Brooklyn began speaking from the branch on which she was sitting, attracting the attention of the red-haired young woman -could you by chance tell me where we are now?-.
At those words Abigail smiled patiently, she knew very well that that boy was not from that area and so she just replied:
-Yes my lord, you are now inside Kensington Gardens, in the east of Hyde Park- admitted the young woman observing more carefully the already known appearance of Brooke.
-Excuse me...-she began to speak with some uncertainty -I seem to have seen you attend Gilbert Stanley's funeral, but unfortunately I have not yet made your acquaintance...- the duchess admitted trying to make the acquaintance of everyone who loved those peaceful places.
-My name is Brooklyn- she replied smiling and looking into the green eyes of the beautiful young woman and blushing again -it's not important, on the other hand I don't expect you to know me...-.
At those words the duchess returned her smile and thus put down the book that she carried by her side.
-Would you like an apple?- the young woman asked leaning her body towards the high branch -my name is Abigail by the way...- she said introducing herself.
And so it was that the young woman forcefully threw the red and fresh apple upwards, which fell directly into Brooke's hands.
-And tell me then, Lord Brooklyn- Abigail began to speak taking a seat on the fresh grass of the forest -what brings a young man like you here?-.
Brooke smiled faintly and removed the blade from her pocket. She began to cut small wedges of apple and put them neatly between her lips.
-So you also think I'm a lord...- Brooklyn admitted feeling a strange trust in the other one -well, I'm grateful to have cheated you too- she ended up admitting by chewing one of the pieces of the apple.
-Do you mean that you are a lady?- asked Abigail impressed placing her small and light fingers on her pink lips -in this case I'm sorry to have mistaken you for a young man but then why are you wearing men's clothes and acting like a man?- asked the curious one.
-Why?! - Brooke repeated looking at her new acquaintance -well, because usually girls can't do many things: they can't fight, they can't be free in this society...-.
-Well, I'm a girl too and I'm free so I don't need to wear men's clothes...- concluded Abigail placing a hand on the brown cover of her book.
-It means that you have had luck in your life then- Brooke admitted chewing on another piece of apple and turning her light blue eyes towards the immensity of the lake in front of them.
-Anyway you haven't answered my question- Abigail said lowering her gaze -what brings you here?-.
At those words Brooke who had already finished eating the juicy apple dropped the seeds on the ground and in doing so crossed her legs one over the other.
-Revenge- she admitted looking away towards the clear sky free from clouds -I am here to catch and kill my brother's murderer and I have to hurry, I absolutely must be the first- asserted the young woman turning her gaze towards the 'sharp and wet blade.
-You are Gilbert's sister...or brother, what makes you feel more comfortable- the young duchess this time turned her green eyes first towards the other and then towards her own belly -you will be lucky then, you will soon become an aunt or uncle...as you prefer again-.
At those words Brooklyn was particularly surprised, yet surprise and happiness led her quickly to descend from the tree and in a few steps to reach the other.
-Are you honest with me?- she asked looking into the green eyes of the red-haired girl -if so I will undertake to protect both of you, even at the cost of my life...and you can refer to me as a girl, this is my preference-.
Abigail smiled at those words and grabbed Brooke's hands with her own little hands and pushed her further into the forest.
-Come on, let's go...- Abigail said taking Brooke with her and almost dragging her into the forest -we must soon reach the castle, the princess doesn't give us too much time out of her gaze ...-.
-Does the princess order a lot?- Brooklyn asked almost amazed by that strange statement, which led the young Abigail to smile.
-Certainly much more than she should- the duchess admitted so between a little laugh and another -if I were you I would be careful, Isabelle is not in any way the sweetest and most forgiving girl you can imagine...-.