Serena halted in her rush, eased the door open again, not letting go of the handle, and hung her head. ‘Of course it isn’t. I should never have ... I should have made it clear ... I never wanted to ...’ She lifted her face to see him frowning. A frown of incomprehension.
Then, as understanding lit his eyes, he shook his head. ‘I am not speaking of last night. I’m talking about me.’
Now it was Serena’s turn to frown in confusion. ‘About you?’
‘You all assume I’m unhinged. But I’m not. I mean ... maybe I am, but, it is not me. It is the curse.’
‘The curse?’ What was he talking about? Curious, Serena stepped further into the room and shut the door. She sat opposite him, on the edge of a chair, her back stiff, ready to fly again if needed. Her fingers found a loose thread on the chair’s upholstery, and she nervously fidgeted with it.
Edward sat up and looked her directly in the eye, one of those intense gazes she should have been used to by now. Nevertheless, she wasn’t, and now her stomach lurched with nervous anticipation.
‘I am under a curse, Serena.’
She opened her mouth and closed it again. How was one supposed to respond to that? Was it madness speaking? Would she encourage his insanity by continuing this conversation? Perhaps. But, his words intrigued her enough to learn more. What convinced him he was cursed? ‘Tell me.’
Edward’s eyes lost their intensity and became hooded again. He reclined on the chaise and dropped his forearm across his brow. For several moments, it seemed he might say nothing further.
‘Several years ago, I met a travelling monk in town. We sat in a coffee house and discussed philosophies at great length. Yes, I remember that day. At first, I recognised him as someone of equal intellect and logic. I enjoyed our conversation and debate. But in the end, when he could not sway me to his way of thinking, he placed a curse on me.’
What kind of brother or saint would curse a person? The notion offended Serena’s senses. ‘Of what faith was this monk?’ Surely he must have been from a strange sect. Perhaps one that mixed religion with ancient pagan practices. Not godly in the least.
‘Does it matter? The point is he cursed me.’
‘Of course it matters. If the cleric abused his office, something ought to have been done.’
Edward swung his legs around and sat up, eyeing her. Suspicion? Doubt? Serena couldn’t be sure. He waved a hand dismissively. ‘Well, I remember not in any case. We deliberated over the teachings and ideas of Pythagoras, Augustine, Plato, Luther and Voltaire, to name a few.
‘He must have studied extensively.’ Serena only recognised one or two of those names.
‘Yes. Our discourse lasted several hours, and we became rather animated at times. I argued my beliefs, much as I outlined them to you.’
‘Will you refresh my memory, Edward?’
He frowned at her, as though repeating himself would be an annoyance. But he skimmed over his conviction—too many gods were fighting for supremacy—and he was happy to take care of himself.
‘And this is what you told the monk?’
‘Precisely.’
‘And then he cursed you?’
‘When it came time to say farewell, he told me of King Nebuchadnezzar.’
‘King who?’
‘Nebuchadnezzar. From your Christian Bible, the writings of Daniel.’ Edward frowned again.
Heat spread up Serena’s neck. She had not read the Bible enough. She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I do not remember his story.’
‘He was a great king of the Babylonians. Nebuchadnezzar defeated many nations, creating a vast empire in his time. He knew his success was above all others and built his kingdom by his own hand. But Daniel interpreted a dream Nebuchadnezzar had, saying that the king would be driven from the people. He would live like an animal until he acknowledged that God alone ruled over the nations. And indeed, the king appears to have gone mad for a time, until he decided that God was the one true king.’ Edward’s head dropped forward. ‘The monk told me the same fate would overtake me if I did not acknowledge God as my creator and provider. He cursed me with madness because I do not believe God is supreme. And now, here I am, insane by all accounts. You see what he did?’
His face lifted again, and a depth of pain was written in those brown eyes. Whether it was true or not, Edward believed he was under a curse. Serena made a mental note to read the story of Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar as soon as she had a spare moment. She needed to learn more about this situation. Could a monk really have cursed Edward with madness? It seemed incredulous.
‘I ... I don’t know what to say, Edward.’ Truer words, she had never spoken. If she agreed with him, would she help him sink further in delusion? But if she argued that he had misunderstood somehow, would he feel betrayed?
Edward must have studied her face as these shifting thoughts swept through her, for he shook his head and closed his eyes. His voice came out deeper, more guttural. ‘Please don’t pity me. I cannot bear it.’
On impulse, she reached out and touched his hand. ‘No. That’s not ... I was not ...This—what you have told me—gives me much to ponder. I need time to contemplate. Yes, perhaps that’s what I should do.’ Serena rose quickly. If it had been awkward in his presence before, right now was ten times worse.
‘You don’t believe me.’ It was a statement, not a question.
Serena’s heart constricted, as though a vice tightened around it. She didn’t want to hurt him and make things worse. But she didn’t want to encourage him in fantasy either, and this curse talk might be exactly that. ‘Edward, please, just give me time. Right now, I don’t know what to think.’
His face fell in disappointment. ‘I thought you loved me.’
The vice around her heart tightened. Serena couldn’t breathe. ‘I do.’ Her voice squeaked.
Edward looked
