The Soul Shifters

Lawyer Percy Campbell sat holding an envelope marked ‘Personal. Miss Victoria Trent had left the country and presented him with this letter for her uncle and aunt, if she made no contact before year’s end. He hadn’t received the call to destroy it. Victoria had mentioned possible danger but nothing else. Percy had been her lawyer since before her career as a well-known artist. He knew her aunt and uncle when she first lived with them after her mother Rose’s death. They had 24hrs before they would know the letter existed.

His curiosity mounted. It seemed immaterial now, being one day before either its deliverance or destruction. Shredding appeared inevitable. He tore it open, took out the crisp typed pages, and settled back to read.

His brows knitted as he perused. Finding out about Miss Trent would leave him disquieted for the rest of his life.

“Dear Uncle Jack and Auntie Ruth

I am grateful for your love and care since mom died. Thanks for my wonderful life.

I left with my father, which you tried to talk me out of. You had nothing to fear. We have come to terms with things, resolved misunderstandings, and he loves me. You didn’t understand my reasons for sailing away, just when my career is taking off, because I always avoided him. This contingency will explain things you couldn’t otherwise comprehend.

Please take the large painting, ‘The Beach – Maybe in Another Life’, from the exhibition. The one where the olden day ship is sailing away with two people standing on the shore. It’s yours. You loved it and it differed from my other abstract or still-life paintings. It is a still-life, but from the past. I am on the boat. Let me explain.

I am Rosheen of Saelmere. I was born in Medieval times and lived in poverty, but with love. As I grew older, I believed myself to be the base-born daughter of a Midwife named Morag and Lord Gerrard of Saelmere. He had promised to marry her but couldn’t. At seven years old, he took Morag and me to live at the castle Saelmere. His other daughter had died, and he wanted me there to comfort his wife. Naturally, he didn’t tell her he felt responsible for me. From rags to riches is my story.

One day, in my 20th year, I went riding beyond our estate and met a young man called Roland of Wadeley. Rumours circulated about his uncouth ways, arrogant manner, and seriously troubled family. That meeting led to heartache. Morag tried to dissuade me from seeing either him or his sister. I believed Morag hated him based on the gossip. Remarkably, he changed his ways and wanted me. He believed he loved me. In truth, he was obsessed with who he thought me to be, some delicate pottery ornament to be idolized, possessed. 

Morag told me the truth about my tragic beginning. One incredible day, three babies had been born and survived; our mother had died. I, the third born, was blamed. My father, Roland’s father, ordered me to be exposed to die. Morag secretly saved me. Despite being married to another, Lord Gerrard accepted me as his child.

I had railed and raged when told the truth. To stop the wedding, I decided to risk everything and tell Roland the story. An appeal seemed the only way. Unfortunately, that very day, Roland’s father Tytus died, and Roland, his sister Anna, and me were abducted by enemies. Roland learned he had two sisters when we were far from home.

We heard why we had been abducted and taken to a faraway Island. Roland’s father Tytus, and family, had left the Island. The inhabitants vowed to bring his children back - Roland and me. Due to confusion over who Roland’s sister was, because our father believed me dead, and Roland didn’t believe the revealed truth, the three of us got taken. Anna decided she wanted to stay and married an Island man. She went from riches to rags but happy. Roland and I wanted to return home.

In the Island's past, a woman, a mage, had been ostracized, wronged, and wanted revenge. She cast a spell condemning Tytus; his father; and us, their descendants, who no longer lived on the Island, to die over and over. We had been blamed. It went right over my head. Our return to the Island had been prophesied but Roland focused on leaving. He ignored the warnings.

Later he explained, but by then he’d murdered my new husband, pregnant me didn’t want to return home in my wretched state, we’d left the village, and Roland vowed to return us home.

We awoke one morning, back in time. Roland knew the future but had no idea I knew too. Determined to kill my husband, Roland went ahead with his plan. (I didn’t know all his reasons.) I planned to protect my husband this time but a sliding doors moment, an insignificant omission, altered everything. Roland explained it to me . . .”

***

“I know you did what you did to defend and protect me, Roland. I guess the circumstances warranted murder, though it's an evil thing to have done. My poor, fatherless unborn!”

He gazed into her eyes and felt swallowed into their melancholy depths, calm as the ocean. It occurred to him how their eyes matched. Siblings, yet opposite, one of them dark and the other fair, just like in the prophecy.

“I’m intrigued. You are younger than me as your birth resulted in our mother’s death. The date of my babtism is April the twenty-ninth, 1099.”

Rosheen looked at him. “That’s not quite the date of my babtism. It’s May the tenth, 1099.”

They both stared at each other.

“God’s Bones!” said Roland, “It had to be after ours, as you were separated from us when mother died. We were born one after the other on the same day. Miraculous!”

Rosheen shook her head slowly. “It’s amazing that we three share the same birthdate. You’ve instinctively protected me.”

His twin sister! He held her close.

“How can I go home? I’m ruined. A widow without a husband. Family will still want us to marry. It wouldn’t be safe to divulge we are brother and sister. How can we tell them I married another, who died, and I have his offspring, not yours?”

“They will be grateful we returned.” 

She sat in silence and studied him, looking resigned.

Later, he drifted to sleep, thinking about what they’d do on arrival at the shore.

When he awoke, he lay on the couch at Tatavian’s. He struggled to unscramble his confusion. Has everything been a dream? he wondered.

Anna entered the room and swished the curtain aside. “Time to rise, brother.”

This morning seemed the same. He’d go along as before until he understood the how and when of this situation.

Anna served their usual breakfast, trenchers of bread, soft-boiled eggs, and mugs of fragrant herbal tea. Tatavian didn’t coax him to leave, so no wedding today.

Afterward, he grabbed the bow and arrows and headed out. The sun shone no more brightly than before. What day is this? He found himself at Tomas’s home. The door ajar, he could eavesdrop.

“Just hold still so I can adjust this tuck, Rosheen,” Tamara said.

Roland peeked around the corner. They had their backs to him. Rosheen wore her blue wedding dress which Tamara examined carefully. 

God’s bones! This is how many days before the wedding? he thought.

He continued his trek. On the way, he collided with a villager. “Excuse me. Pray, tell me what is today?”

“It’s Thursday.”

Roland thought fast. Only one day to the wedding! No one else seemed concerned to be reliving it. He had practiced shooting arrows all morning. Later, he found Anna at home. She’d innocently told him details about Friday’s wedding. He reasoned that everything which took place could be relived, including Matthius' execution. But is Matthius still to die? he wondered.

***

That afternoon, Anna's fingers lightly strummed her lute as she sang a song. Roland paused at the door a second time, without entering. He felt a strange déjà vu. This time, he already knew the time and place. Anna needn’t be involved. What am I supposed to do, though? Let Matthius live? How can I save Rosheen? Murder him twice? he thought, wringing his hands. He didn’t want to change anything, but it seemed so insignificant to move away and un-involve Anna.

In the distance, Tatenai headed towards Matthius home.

What an idea. I’ll listen to what he and Matthius talk about, he thought. He turned and continued down the street, carefully remaining out of sight. 

Tatenai entered the house. Roland sauntered down and halted near the threshold. Loud voices emanated. 

“Matthius, this is what you’ve always wanted,” Tatenai said.

“But not with the darkie!”

He’s talking about Rosheen! He should be grateful, thought Roland.

“You’re doing the right thing, my friend. For the child.”

“It’s my only reason. But if she’s planning on ordering me round as before, well, it’s not going to happen.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“She came here with her friend and clearly blames me. Stupid fool! It’s her own fault.”

“Matthius! You did wrong. You are responsible.”

“And what if I knew? Hadn’t forgotten, as I said? Would she be disgusted, and leave me alone? I doubt it. Stupid wench needs my help.”

“You have to think about your child. So, you knew the awful thing you did, what really happened?”

“So, what! Nothing you can do about it.”

“Rosheen doesn’t deserve to walk into a trap, be treated harshly. I’ll admit wanting it all to be quickly and morally resolved, but not at Rosheen’s expense.”

Matthius sneered. “You're the one who’s trapped! You arranged for her to help me. Now you won’t say a word, because if so, I’ll tell everyone what you did.” . . .

Roland felt numb with disbelief. Knowing all this only made him more determined to get rid of Matthius. He restrained himself from entering and pummeling them both. 

My plan is going ahead! What has the time repetition been for? Now, I feel no guilt at all. I believed Matthius to be the embodiment of evil. Yet, Tatenai is more so. He . . . never kept his promise, leading to the slaughter of innocents. Then he lied. He’s the worst traitor of all! Deserves to die. He hid his treachery, indulged Matthius, and bred a monster. I must save Rosheen. And because there is still the problem of her child being baseborn. Matthius must die after he has married her, he thought.

***

On Friday morning, Roland watched them arrive, concealed by meadow grasses and shaded by trees. Tatenai stood with Matthius and Rosheen before him. The six invited guests stood back quietly viewing. Anna glanced around but not in his direction. Rosheen, radiant as before while he crouched above and behind them again, eyes focused on his target.

Everything appeared the same, from the radiant sunlight, the sounds of buzzing bees, cicadas, and twittering birds, to the fragrant greenery. An eerie, disassociated feeling swept over Roland. Rosheen's innocence, compared to the extreme guilt of the two men, impressed on him how imperative it was to save her. This time revenge didn’t enter his decision.

When Tatenai finished speaking, Roland rose, poised with his bow and the same arrow he’d made for Matthius. His revenge-lust caught in his throat like bile as he repeated each movement.

Just before his arrow left the bow, Anna looked up and shrieked, “No, Roland!” 

He startled a split second before the arrow sped towards its mark. God’s Bones, Anna didn’t know I’d be here! he thought in horror.

Everything seemed altered from before.

Rosheen, with perfectly imperfect timing, just before Anna’s cry, had turned. She stood towards Matthius to protect him, as she looked up at Roland. Their eyes met; her face determined, unafraid. She knows! How can she know? he thought.

In a split second, the arrow slashed the side of Rosheen’s neck and became embedded between Matthius’ shoulder blades. He slumped face-down in the grassy meadow with the arrow protruding, dead when the arrow pierced his heart.

Rosheen released her flowers and fell, clutching her neck. She gasped though not in pain. Blood spurted . . .

***

“Initially, Anna explained things to Roland because she didn’t suspect he had murder on his mind. The second time she had no idea that Roland would be there. Naturally, she screamed, ‘No, Roland.’ Things became even worse due to my decision to protect my husband. We both died. When I die, Roland automatically dies. It snatched away our true future and a dark alternate reality resulted because of the curse, and because Roland never averted the danger. He received a severe tongue lashing from Anna for his ignorance, but it was too late.

I didn’t know the connections between our first family and our next, centuries later. Roland discovered that our family’s earlier members were family to our next family, and so on. He found a list in an old family Bible. A dynasty comprised of at least two soul shifters, repeating their cursed lives and dying.

We transfer to a different place and time, taking over the lives of our descendants. Similar in looks but very different in personalities. It’s difficult to be people you don’t know. Roland took over the lives of terrible people he didn’t want to be and suffered the consequences of their wrongs.

If we don’t find each other, we live longer. Twice now, I’ve avoided him. So, I didn’t want to live with my father, Mark Trent. He didn’t recognize me. You believed he must have done something shocking to make me scared. Of course, avoidance hasn't fixed anything. This time we plan to return to the Island, reverse the spell, and then continue on with our lives. Fate, so far, has had different plans.

I wanted a successful life, unencumbered by men, pregnancies, and children. I’ve been a decent mother except for dying untimely deaths. The only man I loved, Tom, died trying to save me long ago. I cherish the time we spent together because, until then, I found men to be primarily foolish, selfish, evil, or all three. So, despite your objections, I learned martial arts to protect myself. Roland, or Mark, and I are tired of the shadow of this curse enshrouding us. 

Roland left his love in the past and will, probably, never get over it. Poor Anna, we left her back in the Wild West days. She had her music and sang tragic songs of lost love. Her husband is back on the Island. I haven’t heard Anna’s songs over the radio, and she has the talent to really go places in the music industry. We’ve realized that she’s not here. So, it’s up to Mark, my father, and me to try something different. So, I told him, ‘I’m Rosheen, and this time I’m your daughter, and let’s get this damn Island business over with.’

When I studied our family back in Medieval times, I found out something remarkable. The first time Matthius died must be historical. Centuries ago, there lived a Lady Rosheen who lived with twins called Roland the Red and Anna. (Two red heads) It sounded wrong. So, I checked the earlier history of Wadeley Keep, the castle which stood in that area of England. Lord Tytus lived there with two children, Roland and Anna. He and Roland had blond hair, while Anna had red curls. They are the ones I know. The tale is that Roland and Anna were abducted, along with a visitor. Years later, this Lady Rosheen returned home on a ship, without Roland. She confirmed her abduction with Lord Roland and Anna; marriage to Roland; giving birth to twins, also named Roland and Anna; she never remarried; and inherited Wadeley, no questions asked.

It makes perfect sense. Roland couldn’t return. Everyone believed Rosheen to be his wife, and her children inherited the Keep because of it. He and I know the truth, but this outcome meant Lady Rosheen gained her independence, ensured her children’s futures, never married her brother, and stopped any scandal about the twins’ parentage. Moreover, her ‘father’, Lord Gerrard, continued believing Rosheen to be his daughter.

That timeline is the reality, and what we have experienced due to a curse is alternate. We learned that whatever happened to earlier family each time we died didn’t turn out so bad for them; like time fought back to try to keep things as they should have been, bad or good. If I return, you will never know all this. If I return as someone you recognize, who can’t recollect my artistic life, or don't return at all, you will understand why. This letter explains.

The truth is in the painting because I travelled on that ship while Roland and Anna remained behind. In another reality, this happened. If you are part of my future, you will never know all this happened.

With much love, your devoted niece,

Victoria Rose Trent.”

Percy Campbell enclosed the letter in another envelope. He shuddered and wished he could forget it all. Would Uncle Jack and Auntie Ruth believe it?

“How can I present them with this obituary?” he muttered.

Just then the phone rang. “Hello, Percy Campbell of Campbell and Ferrante speaking.”

“Hello, Mr Campbell. This is Victoria Trent . . .”