Page 88 - Revelation
P. 88
Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation
instead...
It was still the same white-rock city and the same house we had seen before.
Only this time everything was seized by fire. The fire was everywhere. Roaring, all-
devouring flame broke forth from broken windows and doors and attacked people
who rushed about in horror, converting them into screaming human torches, this
turned them into easy living targets for the pursuers. Screaming women grabbed their
children and tried to hide in the basements, but their salvation did not last long
– the monsters, laughing loudly, pulled them, half-naked and desperately yelling,
outside to rape them right in the street, next to still warm dead bodies of their children.
One could not see anything because of the soot which spread everywhere. The air was
stuffily filled with the smell of blood and ash; there was nothing to breathe with. The
old people, crazy with fear and heat, ran out of basements and fell dead under the
swords of the beast-like wild people, which rushed about the city on their horses with
terrible whooping. I heard the loud cacophony of rattling hoofs, clanking iron and
wild cries which made my blood freeze.
Terrifying scenes of violence and atrocious murders flashed before my eyes, like
in the cinema... I could not calmly look at all that; my heart literally "jumped" out of
my chest, my forehead was covered with cold sweat (as if I was in my physical body!)
and the irresistable wish to escape from this horrific and monstrously-pitiless world
haunted me. But when I looked at the serious and concentrated Stella’s face, I became
ashamed of my weakness and forced myself to look further.
We found ourselves in Harold’s house. Now everything was broken; nanny’s
dead body lay in the middle of a room, right on the floor. We clearly heard heart-
breaking female screaming in the street through the broken windows; everything
mixed into a terrible nightmare of despair and fear. It seemed that the whole world
had suddenly gone mad for some reason. Then we saw another room where three men
were trying to tie Knight Harold’s tow-headed wife to the back of the bed, bringing
their whole weight to bear on the woman who tried to break loose from their grip with
her last bit of strength. And his little son sat right under the bed, squeezing his dad’s
dagger in his tiny hands, too huge for him, and whispered something with his eyes
closed. Nobody paid any attention to him in the middle of this mad bustle. He was so
strangely and "motionlessly" quiet, that I thought in the beginning that the boy just
got an emotional shock witnessing all that horror, but soon understood that I was
mistaken. As it appeared, the child simply was gathering all his strength and preparing
himself to make an important and decisive step.
He could easily reach any of the rapists, and at first I thought that the poor thing,
still thinking like a child, wanted to try to protect somehow his unfortunate mother.
But, as appeared, this tiny boy, frightened to death, was the real son of a knight in his
still child's soul, and managed to find the most correct and the only possible way
out of the terrible situation. He decided to take the heaviest step in his short life. He
finally managed to pull himself together and, quietly whispering "mummy!", jumped
out to the side and with all his child's might... slashed his poor mother’s tender neck
with the heavy dagger… he loved her tenderly and selflessly and could no find another
way to save her...
Back to content
87