A Princess of Sorts

by Wilma van Wyngaarden

Red drops of blood spattered from the resulting gash. Soler recoiled. The sparkling Crown of Rellant flew from his grasp. A wide-eyed soldier caught it and clutched it to his chest as he staggered back, bumping into two of his companions.

  At the same moment, something dropped from the palm of the high priest’s right hand. A small glass vial fell to the platform, bounced and rolled, spraying drops of liquid into the faces of the two closest members of the watching crowd. They gagged, choked and staggered backward into the arms of the people behind them.

  “Seize the priests!” a new voice roared. Scylla’s head jerked around. It was Captain Renold, his face harsh and his hand pointing at the graybeard Soler, who had turned sharply away. In response to his command, the soldiers finally came to life, leaping forward to overpower Soler and the others. They went down in a flurry of robes. Angry cries from the priests were drowned out by the crowd’s shocked babble.

  Sorrell backed away and fumbled the swordstick back into Scylla’s hands. Keet was no longer quivering in the folds of Scylla’s skirt. Scylla was not surprised, as her handmaid was beginning to collapse across her lap. Sorrell ended up in a limp heap on the platform, propped up against Scylla’s legs and moaning in pain.

  “Oh, Sorrell...!” she mourned. “You saved my life again!” Please, Goddess, not at the expense of her own!

  “I saved your life!” came a disagreeable shriek from underneath the chair.

  The turmoil turned into tense aftermath. The priests were hauled to their feet and removed from the Great Hall. One, who lay unmoving, was dragged away by two soldiers.

  Mako was white and rigid. After a moment he reached out and took the crown from the soldier who held it.

  “Chancellor!” A shocked voice rose from the floor. There was a circle of space where horrified onlookers had backed away from the two bodies lying on the floor in front of the throne platform. A gray-faced man kneeling beside them stared up at Mako in horror. “Chancellor, my sons are dead!”

  Mako said, “Do not touch them! Do not touch the vial!” The small glass object lay on the edge of the platform. No one was offering to touch it.

  For a moment there was shocked silence within the hall. Outside there was a rising hum as the news spread like a disease from group to group. “Is the queen dead?” an urgent voice was raised outside in the castle courtyard. “... alive or dead?”

  “Queen Scylla is alive!” Mako thundered. He stopped, his eyes jerking from the dead bodies to the vial and from there to Scylla – still uncrowned – and finally the jeweled Crown of Rellant in his hands. (“Alive... alive... alive!” the echo spread outside the castle.)

  Mako made his decision. “I, as representative of this realm... I, Chancellor of Rellant, in the face of this new treachery from... from within the court... I crown Princess Scylla – Queen of the Kingdom of Rellant!” he proclaimed. He stepped forward and placed the crown on Scylla’s head. His hands were shaking, his face white.

  Scylla reached up and straightened the crown, settling it securely on her head. No one had thought to check the size. It was too large.

  She gave Mako her best regal nod (carefully so as not to dislodge the oversized crown), although he was not able to meet her glance with anything near his usual confidence. She then looked out over her subjects within the Great Hall, the imaginary string pulling her into her most queenly posture.

  “This matter of the priests shall be dealt with! Unbeknownst to the good people of this court, there was treachery from within – we now all have seen it. More than we knew was possible! But Prince Darwyn, his supporters and the high priest have been struck down. With the Goddess on our side, the House of Rellant thrives! I serve you, people of Rellant, as your new queen!” She paused to acknowledge their cheers, which were more subdued than they had been before.

  She indicated the vial on the edge of the platform when the hubbub from without and within began to abate.

  “Please, for your own safety, keep back. We must deal with the poison before us...! And as for the two young men who have given their lives in this terrible proof of treachery... The Kingdom shares their family’s pain...” She bowed her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “They will not be forgotten! Rellant will remember them as heroes. Let us give them a moment of silence!” Silence fell in the hall, and a moment later outside as her words were repeated for the benefit of those in the courtyard and outside the castle walls.

  A moment later she raised her head. “Thank you all! Now... I am assured that preparations have been unsparing for the coronation feast!” she continued. “For now I shall withdraw to give assistance to my loyal Lady Sorrell. When I return, let the coronation feast begin!”

  In response, her audience raised a fractionally more enthusiastic cheer, even as their eyes slid to the dead bodies on the floor. The applause trailed away, turning into an agitated buzz from the many witnesses who had seen the coronation ceremony turn into chaos.

  Nevertheless, the queen had been crowned... and had not fallen dead the moment the crown touched her head, as the high priest had intended. Scylla shuddered back against her chair. Curses! How close she had come to death yet again!

  A soldier arrived with a bucket of sawdust. As he gingerly spread it over the area where the vial had sprayed its lethal drops, others assisted Sorrell, now lucid but pale as death, to arise. Leaning heavily on them, she limped up the steps. Four soldiers obeyed the chancellor’s sharp directive to pick up the queen’s chair and carry her back to her quarters.

  “Keet?” she said under her breath as the chair rocked and lurched along in the men’s hands. But there was no answer from that particular figment of her imagination – Keet had vanished.

  ***

  Scylla’s chair was placed carefully in the queen’s quarters. Lady Sorrell, aided to lie flat on her bed, had refused all other assistance. “Just let me rest!” she gasped.

  Mako sent the soldiers out with a jerk of his head.

  As the door closed behind them, a spate of choice words flew from his lips.

  Minda and Coltic stared at him in surprise. The girl quickly took the suddenly interested Leon out to the roof garden, where two soldiers could be seen on watch.

  Scylla lifted the crown from her head. An almost hysterical giggle left her throat.

  “For this!” she exclaimed. “For this, my father and the princes were slaughtered, and I have almost died... once, twice... is it three times now? Or four?”

  “What happened?” begged Coltic, who had not made it back to the Great Hall for the monstrous debacle. He stood with mouth open as Mako filled him in through gritted teeth.

  Scylla held out the crown to Minda, who was listening intently to Mako’s terse story. When Mako stopped, Scylla said, “Minda, could you line this crown with something? It is too large and will settle around my ears. I suppose I must wear it for the cursed coronation feast.”

  “... For the coronation... feast... Princess! ... I wish you... all the best... and a... safe return! I am... off duty!” Sorrell spoke up fervently.

  “I will see what I can do,” Minda said, taking the crown from Scylla. She studied it in a distracted fashion.

  “Princess...” said Mako heavily. “Queen Scylla, that is... I have failed in my duty, not only in protecting the king but you as well. For the second time in two days, you have faced death only a few feet from me. The first time I was powerless to reach you. Today again you would have died but for Sorrell.” He hesitated. “I have failed. You must accept my resignation.”

  “I WILL NOT!” Scylla all but screamed. She sat bolt upright in the chair, hands rigid on the arms of the chair. “How dare you, Chancellor!”

  “Princess... I mean, Queen! Ah... Queen Scylla...”

  “Oh, shut up!” Scylla shook with rage. “Princess... Queen... who cares? Not I!”

  “Princess...”

  “Shut up and carry on, Chancellor! Everyone here is doing their part – I, Captain Renold... you, and you, and you...” She pointed at So
rrell on the bed... at Minda, who wore a startled expression... and at Coltic, who took a half step backward. Finally, she stabbed her finger at Mako. “... And you! So what if Sorrell struck the blow this time? Anyone would have done it if they were in reach... including you!”

  Mako looked tortured. “I did not understand what you were telling me... although there was a voice screaming ‘Danger!’ in my head... A very shrill voice... I can’t explain.”

  “I heard it too,” gasped Sorrell from her bed. “It said ‘he has a vial in his hand’ and then I saw the vial.”

  “I did not know what the danger was,” Scylla said. She was calmer now. “I was warned of danger, that it was from the priests and I should not let them near the chair.”

  “How were you warned?” asked Minda. She looked thoughtful.

  “A small, shrill voice,” Scylla said. How odd that all three had heard Keet’s screams. Was all of this a nightmare? She could not bring herself to describe the creature. The mad queen sees little stick men in her waking dreams! Perhaps Queen Maris was correct, and the rumors were true!

  “If you heard this voice, and Mako, and Sorrell as well...” Minda’s voice trailed off. She did not continue.

  “The kingdom, saved by a shrill voice,” Scylla said coolly. “How odd. What could it mean?... But I am more interested in knowing when these attacks will end. I am tiring of them! And these two young men who have been struck down before the eyes of their family... it is too much!”

  No one answered.

  Mako wore an air of fierce concentration. After some moments he said, “I must go to apprise myself of what is happening with the priests. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Chancellor!” Scylla stopped him as he turned towards the door. “Sorrell warned me that she had seen one of the priests at the hunting lodge... among the murderers.”

  “Yes, she has told me so.”

  “He is the one that had the bandage on his hand.”

  Mako nodded abruptly and left.

  “This is a very disturbing turn of events,” said Coltic. “Not only the voice, I mean. The priests! Planning to murder the queen at her coronation... Imagine the turmoil if the queen fell dead at the moment the crown was placed upon her head!”

  “We can only hope the last of the evil has now been rooted out,” said Minda.

  “I am sorry I missed it!” Coltic said. He sat down in a chair next to Sorrell’s bed, from where he could still watch Prince Leon and the girl playing on the roof garden.

  “The priest... looked possessed...” said Sorrell.

  “He was very powerful, frightening... I felt hypnotized. The chanting and rituals were excessive.”

  “Your father the king did not grant the priests power. And yet, see how much they gained in both power and ambition,” Coltic observed.

  “Queen Maris gave them power,” gasped Sorrell. “She wanted a son and she begged them and bribed them for spells and potions... magic. Whether the birth of the twins was due to the priests or not, she gave them rewards... and fell more under their influence!”

  “I wonder how they should be dealt with,” Scylla pondered. “They can not be let go free. And yet... are they all involved in this plot? Surely not!”

  “Very troubling. Sorrell’s presence of mind, however, was excellent.”

  Coltic was nodding agreement. “Truly admirable.” His gaze moved from the window of the roof garden to Sorrell’s face. Even haggard with exhaustion, she was a very beautiful young woman.

  Coltic looked besotted, Scylla realized suddenly. Sorrell, with a broken arm and broken ribs, would be in no condition to do anything but mend for some weeks. If his interest (which Scylla had only just begun to suspect) remained apparent after that, she – the queen – would have some words with him. Sorrell would not suffer a fate similar to that of the unlucky Lady Neyella – cast off like a plaything to the king’s disgusting cousin Darwyn.

  “Ackkk,” she said aloud. “Oh, sorry, something was in my throat.” Then she was struck by another thought. She seized upon it – a relief after the recent horrors. “Minda, have you any idea of how the castle kitchen is able to produce a suitable feast for this celebration? Only a few days ago they must have provided a similar feast after the funerals. And just days before that, the end-of-summer feast.”

  “There were not large crowds in attendance for the funerals. All was in turmoil. Prince Darwyn officiated, I’m told, along with the priests and the former chancellor. There was uncertainty as to what the future held.”

  “There is still uncertainty, due to these unpredictable attacks,” Coltic pointed out. “But the choice of Mako as chancellor gives the realm a hopeful direction. Princess, I commend you once again on your choice.”

  “I will not accept his resignation!” snapped Scylla.

  “Also with Captain Coltic and Captain Renold heading the Queen’s Guard and Rellant’s army, it appears that the intent is to carry on as usual,” said Minda. “Thus, as you can see, people have flooded to the castle to celebrate in great relief... I hear there have been many gallons of weak ale produced in the past two days, suitable for such a large gathering.”

  “Renold tells me there is mead and good ale as well, as everyone will drink to your long life as queen... even more fervently after the most recent attack! The kitchen has procured venison, lamb and pork along with, of course, poultry and fresh-caught fish – the roasting pits have been smoldering for hours,” Coltic added.

  “This is not the richest of courts – in fact, far from it – but there have been recent years of good harvests and relative comfort. And the king did take pleasure in bringing in stores of wine, which used to take up a good portion of the cellars,” Minda mused. “Does it still?”

  “It does,” said Coltic. “I wonder who will drink that now? We may be able to sell it.”

  “Or give it as favors to courtiers who have developed a taste for it?” suggested Scylla acidly.

  “Sell it! An inventory will have to be carried out.” Coltic’s eyes gleamed. “After the coronation feast, of course. I do believe that as soon as word arrived that Princess Scylla had been found alive – and the coronation would take place today – the castle kitchen got to work! I have smelled bread, pies, sauces, meats and alike... day and night since we arrived back.”

  “Tables are to be set up in the Great Hall for the district lords and their families, and in the castle courtyard for as many as can be accommodated there,” said Minda. “Then, of course, the village and surroundings are overflowing with people... all here to celebrate.”

  “And eat! It sounds like some of the entertainment is already beginning. Is that not music from the courtyard?” Coltic got up and opened the door to the roof garden... indeed, a group of musicians had struck up a lively tune.

  “This could be a very long day,” sighed Scylla. “I am already exhausted.”

  ***

  She was more exhausted some hours later. On her throne at the head table, she had nodded regally more times than she could count. The eleven district lords and other prominent citizens of the kingdom stood up at the long tables in the great hall and spoke, or laid gifts before her, or drank to her long life as Scylla, Queen of Rellant. Magnificent piles of food had been brought into the Great Hall and she had nibbled at some tiny fraction of the feast presented to her.

  Jugglers juggled, musicians performed, a group of dancers entertained, and a storyteller had produced a long and convoluted version of the history of Rellant. The queen had stopped listening shortly after he started, but joined in the applause at the end. She suspected that the enthusiasm of the applause was mainly due to everyone’s relief that the long story was finally over... especially since the kingdom’s history was not at all exciting.

  On her right sat Chancellor Mako, while at her left Captain Coltic entertained Leon and coaxed him to eat. Captain Renold was also present at times, along with a tense band of soldiers for a show of strength. The head table was remarkably sparse compared to wh
at it had been at the king’s end-of-summer festivities the previous week. At that time the king and his cronies had taken up half the table, while the queen and her entourage occupied the rest, and the twins had snatched at food and squabbled between themselves while running wild. The then-Princess Scylla with Sorrell in attendance had occupied a corner table off to the side, present only because her father had expected her to be there.

  Now she was the center of attention. Attendants leaped to provide her with anything she might want. The crown sat upon her head, fitting a little better due to the lining Minda had quickly improvised. Nevertheless, her headache had returned with a vengeance. The noise and commotion, and the stifling air filled with the heat from too many bodies and too much exhaled breath from their lungs – she was not sure how much more she could stand.

  It appeared that the feast had been successful, and the mead, the ale, and the King’s wine had been liberally shared. Fortunately, the spirit and mood of the gathering were holding well, and even little Prince Leon had only just begun to whine.

  “Chancellor Mako!” Scylla demanded his attention when she could stand it no more. “Please indicate that I am most grateful for the honor of our people’s regard... However, Prince Leon and I must withdraw for now. Remind everyone that we have had a very difficult few days.”

  He had been talking in low tones with someone to his right, but his eyes snapped around to hers and he nodded in acceptance. Within moments, he had asked for the feasting crowd’s attention, explained the need for Queen Scylla and the young prince to retire to their quarters to rest, and asked for a rousing cheer to send them off.

  She smiled, inclined her crowned head and raised her hand to the crowd as the soldiers lifted her chair once again. Coltic accompanied her, with Prince Leon hoisted to his shoulder.

  “Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!” The cry accompanied them as they left the Great Hall. “The House of Rellant thrives!”

  | Chapter 11 |

  “I am relieved that the House of Rellant thrives,” the new queen informed Minda when the soldiers had transported her in her chair back to her royal quarters. “Also Captain Renold’s organization – along with the castle kitchen – of a feast of such magnitude is admirable! However, now I want only to go to bed.”