The gods crowned her [Famous Book]

There is a mirror behind Robert, reflecting his scarlet body, struggling desperately like a dying fish in a dry rut.

Ivy walked over and knelt down to look at him.

He still hadn't lost his breath, and he pressed his bloody neck painfully. The moment his dim pupils appeared on her, a tiny inch of light suddenly flashed.

His pale lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something.

However, before forming a recognizable mouth shape, there was a terrible grunting sound in his throat, and he died in the blink of an eye.

The dark gray eyes reflect the huge murals on the dome. The pure and good angels chase and play with the child Cupid, revealing their naked bodies without shame, and thrive in the blessings of the gods.

Ivy bent down, and found fear, dread and madness in his unsealed eyes.

He was the most devout Catholic, but God was stingy and blessed him. Instead, he let him use such a horrific way of death to kill this heart that had been beating so fiercely.

She opened her trembling palm and closed his eyes for him, but her hand was covered with wet and sticky blood, covered with strewn fingerprints, which grew wildly like vines in her veins.

She has no fear of raw blood, and even takes terrible pleasure in it.

However, because the owner of this pool of blood came from her brother's best friend, her hand trembled slightly, although it was limited to this.

His eyeballs are bulging in the palm of his hand, bouncing up and down like a rubber ball unwilling to be silent. The retinal nerves have not lost their ability to reflect with the end of life, or it may be his last manifestation.

It's a pity that active dead souls are not welcome in the place where God is. After a few seconds, the organs under his hands fell into tranquility again.

Ivy was only three inches away from his face, and the thick fishy smell solidified with the blood, turning into a pair of big hands grabbing the maroon all over her body.

Slightly moving her lips, she said softly in the dead silence: "I will let the murderer accompany you and be your slave underground."

Robert's death was quickly classified as a suicide due to insanity. The poor minister had a heavy psychological burden due to excessive work pressure, so he chose to end his life with a knife.

The antecedents and consequences of this tragedy seem reasonable. The king was already delirious due to illness and did not delve into the matter. Robert's position was quickly replaced by Canning's accomplices.Except for Robert's friends and relatives before his death, everything was uneventful.

But Anna didn't care about the death of her son's best friend. When discussing with Mrs. Wilburton and others, she only used an indifferent tone, calling him an unreasonable and stupid man.

In their eyes, suicide is the most unforgivable sin. To damage the body given by God is tantamount to being deceived by Satan.

The dead had been forgotten, and they only talked about the news that Arthur was about to return with the victorious British army.

"Mrs. Wellesley deserves to sit in the middle this time. You are the mother of a great hero."

Several noble ladies hurried to attend the tea party at Mornington Manor to curry favor. With powdery smiles on their faces, they surrounded Anna, staring at the proud old lady with respectful and envious eyes.

Anna was in a good mood, and covered her grin with a feather fan inlaid with diamonds. Her status had never been so lofty, and the joy of mothers being more expensive than children made her, who had been down for half her life, seem to be in the clouds.

Mrs. de Crean immediately continued: "That's right, General Wellesley is about to be named Duke of Wellington, and the whole of Ireland will be proud of him."

"What? Duke!" Madam Wilburton suddenly exclaimed exaggeratedly, "You are now the old duchess, Anna! You know, there are only a few hereditary dukes in the whole of England. Tsk tsk, it is indeed the Asian that we are all optimistic about." Sir, I said at the beginning that your youngest son will bring the highest crown to your family."

However, when she said this, she also found that it was full of loopholes.After all, she was the one who took the lead and laughed at Arthur privately with all the noble ladies. Hearing this, the Marchioness of Dunllis and Madame de Crean couldn't help but look at each other meaningfully, showing inexplicable smiles at each other.

This noble lady, who is now too attentive, once called Arthur "a worthless playboy", "a poor wretch who is destined to be a stepping stone all his life", and demoted him to the most unlikely wimp in London.

Sure enough, whoever was the most proud of ridicule in the past is the one who is most keen to curry favor today, to take off his powdered and proud face, and hand it over to the soles of the superiors to be trampled on. An immutable law.

On the appointed day, Arthur made his triumphant return with cheers. Numerous citizens stood by the side of the road to applaud him, and even fired a salute to celebrate the hero's return.

"Glory to Wellesley!"

They shouted "Duro", the title of victory unique to Arthur in the army, referring to long live, as if celebrating a major festival.

Arthur rode on a white horse and was surrounded by the crowd to the Palace of Westminster, the king of England, to welcome his exclusive knighting ceremony.

Ivy sat in the seats of the ceremony, and with a glance, she saw the gloomy faces of Canning and Addington, both of whom were silent, conveying tacit resentment to each other.

Jealousy and unwillingness germinated in the abyss, devoured their hearts, and dyed their faces in a dull color.

Their accomplices gathered around, all whispering in low voices, facing Arthur's direction, their eyes coincided with each other, with hatred and anger hidden under their brows.

Then she saw Kevin walking by them. This was the first time she saw him wearing a crimson velvet coat that only appeared on court formal occasions. The ring is decorated with 8 red gold leaves. With every gesture, the oppressive and noble atmosphere of the ancestors as Celtic conquerors instantly attracts everyone's attention.

The latter collectively bowed their heads humbly and said in a respectful tone, "Good evening, Mr. Duke Clarence."

Unsurprisingly, he just glanced at him, and didn't even stop to make any salute. He was as arrogant as usual, and sat down in his seat calmly.

However, he is the only duke second only to the prince in the audience, looking at the entire Palace of Westminster now.

Only Arthur, who is about to be knighted, can stand against him, and no one dares to express dissatisfaction with him.

His noble background and glorious ancestors gave him arrogance. Even if he never pretended to anyone, he still couldn't stop other nobles and ministers from talking to him.

Just when their clinging hearts were about to move, "Welcome my king!"

The guards suddenly gave a loud shout, and then they all stood up, staring at King George III, who walked slowly from the gate into the palace in solemnity and tranquility.

Ivy finally had a chance to see the old man up close.

His face was covered with dark age spots, and his body was inevitably lifeless. The goddess of youth did not show mercy to him because of his status, and Pluton, the king of the underworld, treated him equally and sent demons to invade the world. The king's hand made him slump and stagger, and he was still exhausted with crutches, and he almost fell to the ground on the granite floor tiles.

The guard hurried forward to support him, maintaining his dignity as a monarch, and then handed him a gold plate.

In the focus of the hall, bright lights and shadows gathered, and Arthur knelt on his knees, waiting for the canonization of the King of England.

Sunlight spilled on his blond hair through the window sills, his side face was quiet and decisive, like a child of a god.

"By the king's ancestors, George III complied with the resolution of the Privy Council, and Arthur Wellesley was crowned Duke of Wellington. May God help His Excellency, Duke of Wellington, and glory to Mr. Arthur Wellesley."

The King of England had read the edict, held a sword, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Later, George III took out the crown representing glory and brilliance from the gold plate and put it on the top of his hair.

At this time, the guards all knelt down and saluted, "May God bless Your Excellency, Duke of Wellington."

The King of England paid attention to his eyes full of approval, and whispered something in his ear, raised a kind smile in satisfaction, and left the palace surrounded by his attendants.

"Congratulations, Your Excellency the Duke of Wellington." Canning walked up to him first and clapped his hands, the smile on his face stayed between the skin, like a wolf suppressing excitement after finding its prey.

Although in the eyes of others, the air is still normal, these two people are just doing polite among colleagues.

However, Arthur didn't say a word from the beginning to the end, just stared at him silently, with dark waves in his eyes, but only his sister knew that this was a precursor to venting his anger.

At this time Addington also stood up and slowly approached Arthur, "Although we have caused some unpleasantness in the past, I still want to respectfully call you the Duke of Wellington."

"I think, if Robert is here, I don't know whether he is jealous or really happy for you."

Canning seemed to have remembered something, and added, "You are all sons of Ireland, and your title is much higher than him now. I don't know what he will think?"

Arthur had already tried his best to restrain his loss of control, but Canning proposed provocatively. As soon as he heard the name of his best friend, his gentle face flushed instantly, and his hands tightly clenched the corners of his clothes, so that he could not control himself from swinging his fists.

"You don't deserve to mention Robert!" He stared at the man opposite with a half-smile in his sea-blue eyes, "George Canning, you'd better get your disgusting face out of my sight, otherwise, don't blame me for being rude."

"Wellesley..." Canning smiled and retreated behind Addington. The latter stretched out his arm and patted him on the shoulder, with a faint smile, "Robert is just a suicide who hates life. There is no heaven. According to the law, the dead body of a suicide should be pierced through the heart with a wooden stick. We can spare him this shame, which is the greatest tolerance for him. Wellesley, what are you dissatisfied with this treatment? ?”

Arthur closed his eyes slightly, and the veins on his neck became more and more violent. Seeing that the forbearance was about to explode, Ivy calmly called him: "Brother."

Everyone's eyes turned to her immediately.

"Oh, your sister, should I now address you as the Duchess of Wellington?"

Addington laughed mockingly, with a strange gleam in his green eyes, and unscrupulous contempt from the corners of his mouth, "A woman who wants to compete with men for wealth."

He shook his head, sighing and joking, "You have to be thankful that the Middle Ages are over, otherwise you would not be able to save your dear sister from the stake. She will definitely be accused of a witch by the church, just imagine, she is so cute and beautiful What does it look like when a woman is burned to ashes..."

"Addington!"

"You bastard!"

The two reprimands sounded almost at the same time. People were shocked to find that the Duke of Clarence, who was supposed to stand by, stopped Addington from speaking rudely. It was the first time they saw him in a rage. The unreal complexion was stained with a reddish color that only comes from anger.

Addington really did not expect his intervention, and looked at him with Canning in surprise.

The Duke of Clarence seldom speaks on weekdays, but once he speaks, it is loud enough to say, "Shut up your vulgar mouth, immediately, now, go back to your mansion. Otherwise, your impeachment warrant will appear on the king's desk immediately. "

"Your Excellency, Duke of Clarence, it has never been your style to intervene in other people's disputes." Addington's eyes were puzzled and tough.

The Duke of Clarence stared at him sullenly, "I hate your arrogant dog eyes, insulting women, and not looking down to see what a dirty thing you are. A dirty dog ​​deserves to sit in the House of Representatives."

As soon as the voice fell, he immediately got up, without even turning to glance at Addington's face, and left the sight of everyone together with the attendants.

The meeting broke up unhappy, and Arthur immediately took off his duke's finery and rode to the tombstone of his best friend.

It occupies a lonely corner in Westminster Abbey, with a blue and green owl perched on an oak tree, looking down at the voice of the people.

Legend has it that the night owl is the messenger of hell, and all noises in the world are enough to dissatisfy this pretentious creature, flapping its wings twice, fanning the air-conditioning in the silent mid-air.

"He never made any mistakes." Arthur's voice tried his best to keep calm. Those who were buried here were all once prominent figures, and ghosts should not worry about human sorrow.

"His only fault was that he stood by our side." Ivy's voice wavered faintly in the wind, "Brother, you advocate Catholic liberation for the Irish people. Even if he knew that it would attract strong opposition from Canning's party, he would Support your opinion without hesitation.

He hoped that I would bring good to Ireland, and he argued that my factory could be opened unhindered, which resulted in his death.Poor Robert, they drugged him with hallucinogens and they mistook him for insanity to cover up shady tricks and tricks. "

Arthur's eyes darkened suddenly, and he gritted his teeth: "They really deserve to die."

"Yeah, damn it. They're trying to make us fearful, awe-inspiring, make us retreat, and kill our closest associates, our staunchest supporters, in order to curb our rise and punish us for our deviant ways. "

Ivy's tone was calm, but it was as if the greatest storm was brewing. The pattering cold rain penetrated into the bone marrow, causing the grass under the feet to weep as the stems and leaves rubbed against each other.

"It is my fault and incompetence for my sister to be insulted because of her gender and identity."

She suppressed her brother's depression, raised his drooping jaw, and made him look directly at her: "Don't try to change them, it's useless. Don't you understand the threat in their words? Once they take power completely, the stake will be My destination, since they despise women, isn't it more ironic to let women destroy them?"

She stopped, and suddenly let out a chuckle, breaking the silence of the frozen cemetery: "My dear brother, have you seen it? When their eyes were on the crown on your head, I only saw hostility and hatred, no Make them pay and we will end up like him."

Arthur closed his eyes and acquiesced, then took out a bottle of brandy from his pocket, bent down and placed it in front of the tombstone, and unscrewed the cork.

"Robert has always regarded alcohol as his life, but he is not addicted to it," he said.

Through the moonlight, Ivy saw a drop of tears on her brother's cheek.

"Don't cry, Arthur Wellesley." She said coldly, and the moonlight passed through the gaps in the leaves on her expressionless face, swimming from light to darkness, "Tears are useless."

Ivy stood under the shadow of the oak tree, unable to see her expression clearly, he raised his head slightly, and his eyes were directly on her proud head.

She bent down, and Arthur half-kneeled in front of her, like an angel who redeemed sinners.

She stretched out her hand, touched his eyelids with her fingertips, and wiped away his tears. The coldness and warmth collided with each other, but the corner of her mouth was bent into a strange iris.

"Brother, I want them to repay the tears you shed with blood."

"Ivy..." He spoke with difficulty, his lips were so dry that he couldn't even make a sound.

Then he heard the sound of the tip of the knife being unsheathed, like the ice breaking suddenly, crisp and cold.

It was the letter opener that Robert had used to kill himself.

Immediately, under Arthur's stunned gaze, she actually sliced ​​the blade open in her palm, and hot and humid blood flowed down inch by inch along the densely packed hand lines, watering the grass and wild flowers under her feet.

The other hand held the bottle of brandy, and the transparent liquid spilled onto the blood-stained palm, but it didn't tremble at all, like a pair of hands that had their nerves severed and lost consciousness.

"I want them to die." The wine bottle was thrown into the mud by her, and she laughed suddenly, flamboyant and fearless enough to make ghosts and gods avoid them, "They all have to die."

The author has something to say:

This is a story about a crazy heroine and a calm male nobleman, Ivy is about to start.