Quest Biographies Bundle — Books 11–15. Gary Evans

24, 1933

      King and Joan sat across from each other at a little table. Their hands were placed on its surface palms down, fingers touching lightly. The room was heavy with the smell of Christmas roses, but darkened so that the blooms could barely be discerned. A small light glowed, just enough to illuminate a notepad beside King.

      Their fingers began to tap out letters. With his pencil stub, King transcribed Mother King.

      “Mother,” King breathed. “It’s Mother.”

      Mother King gave her love, and then Joan’s mother sent the same message. Father King soon appeared.

      Father: Happy Christmas. Go to bed early. Eat less.

      “Good advice!” King said.

      “Quiet, Rex!” Joan commanded.

      As the knocks began again, King wrote down each letter and “translated” the jumble into the answers to their questions. Since their minds had been opened to the possibilities of communication with those in the spirit world, he and Joan found that through the little table they themselves could have direct contact without going through a medium. Willies brother spoke now.

      Max: Go to bed early. Let wine alone. Exercise more.

      “Should I walk more?” King asked the shadows.

      Yes.

      “When?”

      At night.

      Now it was Joan’s turn to ask the spirit of Dr. Macdougall King a medical question. “Will Godfroy’s hand soon be better?”

      Yes.

      “Is it cancer?”

      No.

      The name Laurier was tapped out next.

      Learn French. Have someone teach you.

      “Does it mean another war?” King queried.

      Yes.

      “Do you know how soon?”

      The spirits thought a war might come in the reign of Edward VIII. As King George V was currently on the throne, this caused Joan to ask if they had “knowledge of the future.” The answer was: Yes.

      King’s heroes, the British prime minister Gladstone and his own rebel grandfather William Lyon Mackenzie, were among those who joined in the talk and gave political advice.

      Gladstone: Strive valiantly.

      Mackenzie Lyon: I will help you.

      Blake: Go slowly dealing with Bennett.

      Message from all: Keep up your courage.

      They tapped until the spirits told them to go to bed late Christmas Eve.

      Making his way home to Laurier House, King felt the cold of the night. He was aware that a record number of people on relief were suffering – one million in a country of nearly ten million. Many of these hungry men, King knew, were unhappy that Bennett had not kept his election promises of ending unemployment. They were desperately looking for answers outside of traditional political means and were turning to new theories and parties.

      King too, was looking for answers in new ways, but to different questions. Preparing for bed, he thought of the Christmases at Woodside – the way he or Max or Father had dressed up as Santa. Perhaps thinking about them just now meant something. Perhaps he would see his father or Max in a vision while he slept.

      Beside King’s bed, Pat stirred in his little basket. “I wonder if he’s dreaming of the Irish terrier on the Christmas card that Mrs. Wriedt sent?” King stretched out comfortably, feeling warm and blessed. “I must make a note to thank…”

      Soon, both were snoring contentedly while soft shadows flitted about the room.

      Kingsmere, Quebec

      July 1, 1936

      King and Joan Patteson stood on the lawn at the edge of the forest. “I am going to call this the Arc de Triomphe!” he declared, while placing his hand on a tall column.

      “To commemorate the election?” Joan asked slyly.

      The Liberals had won the October 14, 1935 federal election. Their posters had proclaimed: “Canada Cannot Stand Another 5 Years of Bennett’s Broken Promises.” The slogan “It’s King or Chaos” garnered the lion’s share of the votes for the Liberals, with some for the new parties: the Social Credit and the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (CCF). Bennett had been trounced.

      King’s Arc de Triomphe, the doorway to the forest, had, a short time ago, held up the stone walls of the British North American Bank Note Building in Ottawa. Upon hearing that the building was scheduled for demolition, he had purchased the pillars and had them brought to Kingsmere. Over the years he had enlarged his estate to just over two hundred improved hectares and several cottages. A few years before, he had begun adding pieces of other people’s cast-off buildings, cobbling together “ruins.” He was quite pleased with the effect. Kingsmere looked as grand as any old estate in Britain. The latest addition, this portico, to a part of the forest he called Diana’s Grove, was especially inspiring.

      “The Arc de Triomphe,” he wrote in his diary on July 3rd, commemorated “the place of victory and triumph of July 1, 1936, and all that has led up to that moment, and which marks it as a place of new beginning.” He was proud of the civic beautification projects begun in Ottawa. There was also the success his minister of labour had achieved in closing the relief camps after finding work for the unemployed men with the railway. And importantly, there was the work that he had accomplished in Geneva at the League of Nations to encourage cautious peace at a time when Ethiopia, the Rhineland, and Spain were feeling the effects of war.

      The Official Residence

      Berlin, Germany

      June 29, 1937

      Hitler was speaking. The prime minister of Canada, waiting for the translation, watched his face with fascination. His face is much more prepossessing than his pictures would give the impression of, he noted. It is not that of a fiery, over-strained nature, hut of a calm, passive man deeply and thoughtfully in earnest. His skin is smooth; his face does not present lines of fatigue or weariness.

      Hitler rested his hands on his lap, his eyes fixed on King. Those eyes, King decided, are what is most impressive. There’s a liquid quality about them which indicates keen perception and profound sympathy.

      Hitler was explaining to King how he spent most of his time at his country home. “I need quiet and nature to help me think out the problems of my country.”

      “Very wise,” King agreed.

      When King was in London at the Imperial Conference and the Coronation of King George VI earlier in the spring, he had been approached by Ribbentrop, the German ambassador. The Canadian prime minister had seized the opportunity for an interview. As senior statesman in the Commonwealth, he wanted to communicate to Hitler that the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, understood that Germany had an interest in some economic expansion in Eastern Europe. King also hoped to convince Hitler of the necessity of continuing peace.

      The Canadian outlook, King told the German leader, would be decided by the Canadian Parliament. “Canada is as free and independent a country as Germany itself, but we feel our freedom is secured in a large part by our being a part of the British Empire.” King emphasized “that if that peace is threatened by an aggressive act of any kind on the part of any county, there is little doubt that all parts will resent it.”

      When the interview concluded, Hitler took in