Britannia Unleashed

Temporalis-6

“The creatures you may encounter will be quite unlike anything you have seen on your African travels, Bells. A lion will be as a kitten to them, a crocodile like a minnow, they will be everything you can imagine and more.”

“I have seen reimagined dinosaurs in the Britannian Museum, they hold no fear for me.”

“They should,” Albert pressed.

“Is that concern in your voice, old friend?”

“Well…erm.”

“Spit it out, man!” Belvedere’s raucous laugh echoed through their subterranean hidey-hole.

“I just don’t want you getting bitten in half or some such thing.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing for Sir Belvedere to worry about,” Monk said, slithering into the conversation.

“I believe there could be,” Albert had rallied.

“Could. Would. Should. All words that amount to the same before an adventurer,” Monk slimed.

“And that is?” Albert retorted.

“They mean nothing to such as he. If he bore them heed, he would never have explored anything. Am I not right, Sir Belvedere?”

“I believe you are,” he confirmed.

“You see, Chambers,” Monk said, addressing Albert by his surname, which he knew he hated, “nothing to worry about.”

“Well, either way, I made a promise to Gwendolyn to ever be the conscience that Bells here so often ignores to his own imperilment. I shall continue to do so whatever I am told.”

“And if it was Her Majesty that told you? That could be interpreted as treachery, or worse.”

“Is that a threat?” Albert barked.

Monk just smiled a sleazy, lopsided grin, his hooked nose almost slicing the thing in twain.

“Now, now, Albert,” Belvedere said, wrapping one large arm about his friend’s shoulders. “You don’t have to worry. I promise I shall remain ever guarded against the past.”

“You say that…”

“I do,” Belvedere interrupted.

“But Gwendolyn!”

“That’s enough, Albert,” Belvedere snapped. “I’ve heard that, I promised Gwendolyn routine, more times than I care to remember. Just because she was your sister and my betrothed does not mean she holds t****l over us still. She is dead, after all,” he added dispassionately.

Albert had stormed off and Belvedere had regretted his words. It wasn’t that he worried about upsetting his best friend, they had had many such arguments, more that he secretly courted such danger in the hope of death himself. The possibility of reuniting with Gwendolyn on some far-off plane of existence was an attraction he had considered many times, wheresoever she might be.

* * * *

The second thought of his once betrothed snapped Belvedere back to the present, or past, as it was.

“Damn you, Albert, you always knew how to affect me,” he said fingering the phial about his neck. “But I’ll not turn back now regardless of what may lie ahead. I can’t.”

And with those foolhardy words spoken, Sir Belvedere Wainthrop pushed deeper into the jungles of prehistory, not for Albert, nor for Queen Victoria and her Empire’s progression, but for the memory of his dear Gwendolyn, the only woman he had ever loved.