In the Wrong Space and Time

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"THAT WILL BE ALL. YOU may all take your leave now," Queen Elizabeth folds her hands in her lap and sits back in her chair, signalling that the meeting has come to a close.

Tyra and F. M. Primero stand on either side of me, getting ready to push their chairs in, when the queen holds up a hand, effectively halting our movements. "Except for you three."

We all exchange bewildered glances, unsure of what she is calling us back for.

Finally, the last politician moves out of the heavy wooden doors, and we train curious gazes on the queen.

"I suppose you're wondering why I have prevented you from leaving," Queen Elizabeth says in a serene voice, head tilted knowingly. "Well, let us not dawdle - come with me."

The elderly monarch stands, and a butler and bodyguard standing at the door immediately rush over to assist her. However, she waves them off dismissively. "No one is to follow where I am about to take them," she commands. He falls behind respectfully, and Queen Elizabeth signals us to follow behind her.

She makes her way out of the dining hall, posture ramrod straight even for her age, and we tail meekly behind her.

We roam the expansive castle, but there is no time for sightseeing as Queen Elizabeth leads us deeper into the heart of the castle. My curiosity keeps growing every new step I take around corners and up winding staircases, and I decide to ask the Queen where we are going.

However, Tyra beats me to it. "Pardon me, Your Majesty, but where exactly are we headed?" A look that is a cross between suspicion and quizzicality is clear in her eyes, and it reflects all our thoughts at the moment.

Queen Elizabeth only gives us a maddeningly cryptic smile over her shoulder. "Walls have ears, doctor. You shall get all the answers you wish once we arrive at our destination." She turns back and continues on her way.

Tyra looks as if she wants to tear her hair clean out of her scalp, but at a warning look from the Field Marshal, manages to quell her frustration adequately.

Finally, after turning a corner, we reach a drawing room with an elaborately-patterned red and gold carpet on the floor. Cream sofas are placed at a comfortable angle to each other, and antique paintings are hung on the white walls without making the room look excessively gaudy.

The queen walks across the drawing room unhurriedly and tugs on the end of a mirror. Before we could question what she was doing, the mirror swings away from the wall, revealing a set of white and gold doors.

"The doors to my private apartments," Queen Elizabeth explains casually. My eyes widen with amazement.

Fancy that, a secret passageway!

The queen leads us into her private rooms, and into her bedchamber. "You wouldn't mind helping me to shift my bed just the slightest to the right, would you?" She poses the question casually, as if things like these happen on a daily basis.

We mutely shake our heads and shift the bed just as she has directed, until the order comes to stop. The queen moves over to the rug under her bed and shifts it to the side, revealing another trapdoor.

Gobsmacked, my eyes almost fall out in astonishment. One secret passage was enough to be expected, but two of them? Fascinating, I gape silently.

In her usual unflustered manner, the queen wrenches the trapdoor open to reveal a set of stone steps. She beckons us to follow her down the staircase, and we do so, shooting one another weary looks.

At long last, we arrive at our destination, and the three of us gape in wonderment at the marvellous array of weaponry lining the shelves of the underground cavern. Archaic-looking guns, maces and massive broadswords rest undisturbed, evident from a thin layer of dust settled on their surfaces.