The Court of the Sovereign King

by David Landrum

I said, “I will,” but fear choked off my last word. The mere thought of what I would be subjected to paralyzed my tongue. The Venerable Mother touched me.

  “Alethea, I know this a terrible, revolting thing no one should be forced to endure. But the king has ordered it. I have chosen you. Please know I love you, child.”

  Somehow her declaration of love enabled me to rally and focus my mind. I nodded. Thelka came in with wine.

  It took me quite a while to calm myself. I stayed in the Venerable Mother’s private room and talked with her. She, Thelka, and Anna told me about the other time the king summoned the witch.

  “It was when we established the State of Ebracht in the Eastern Mountains. We took the territory from Ottava but could not secure it. The Fire Witch had been driven from our world. The king—our current ruler’s father—offered her a place in our kingdom if she would secure the territory we had conquered. She returned through the body of one of our women and secured the territory of Ebracht by ringing it with volcanoes and rivers of molten rock. But after the witch had done this, the maiden through whom she entered our world fell sick and died. The witch returned to her exile. Now the king wants her once more.”

  I did not reply.

  “This particular young woman, we found out, had sin in her life. She was not a virgin. Her father bribed the midwives who examined her when she came to this holy place. So her sin found her out. We know you are a young woman of unimpeachable chastity. You are young and strong. You will be fine.”

  I could only nod.

  “The ceremony will be in one week. You will stay here in my quarters until then.”

  That the Venerable Mother had restricted my freedom did not assure me. Escaping the convent was impossible. Perhaps they thought I might try to kill myself or that Janessa might poison my mind and that would hamper the thing they intended to do. For whatever reason, I stayed in the mother's quarters until the day appointed for the enchantment.

  During the week, a team of physicians examined me and pronounced me healthy. The two physicians, along with two midwives this time, examined my intimacy once more—just to make sure. I ate a lot of meat—more than we sisters usually had—and drank wine every meal to give me strength. I read a lot. The mother allowed some of my friends to come in and dine with me or just visit so I would have people to talk to and not be constantly thinking about what lay ahead for me. Twice, Arabella, a quiet, beautiful young woman who been in the convent six years, played her lute and sang for me. The week passed both quickly and slowly.

  The morning of the encounter a woman came in to instruct me. She had black skin, which meant she came from the northern reaches of our land, and was beautiful. She wore a silver gown. She came in unescorted. The Venerable Mother always appeared with anyone who entered my room, even my friends. I realized after a moment that this woman was the queen.

  I knelt and bowed my face to the ground. She told me to rise and then invited me to sit.

  “You are Alethea.”

  Fear harried my ability to speak, but I focused myself so I could answer.

  “I am she, my Queen, and ever your servant.” This was the proper, formal response. I bowed my head after I said it.

  “You got in a little altercation with my cousin, I’m told.”

  Again, I did not know what to say. I only bowed my head. I had wondered if she would mention this.

  “It is a thing we will take up later,” she said. She had not let go of the incident and I was still in jeopardy. “I am Linise. You are Alethea and your prioress has told me you are a worthy servant of our nation.”

  “Thank you, my Queen. I hope I may be so.”

  “I’ve come to instruct you on what you must do at the ceremony in the morning. This was passed on to me by divination. Listen carefully.”

  I clasped my hands in front of me—a gesture to indicate abjection and obedience.

  “When you go to receive the spirit into your body, you must control your fear. Set it aside as much as you can, especially when you walk out to the magical circle where you will stand when the witch comes to you. You are young, virtuous, and strong. There is no reason you cannot endure the task before you. Put fear aside because there is no need for fear.

  “Know that when you have finished the task, you will be granted anything you desire. You may even leave the convent if you wish, return home, and marry. Riches, position—whatever you ask will be granted you.”

  I nodded. This might have been considered rude to anyone else, but in the palace it indicated that I did not consider myself worthy to speak to the queen.

  “And you know,” she said, “that if you fail, what punishment will await you.”

  I knew it would be death, of course. But the death that would await me would be cruel, horrible, and painful. I would be crushed by the grinding wheel, a punishment reserved for the worst criminals who had committed the most perverse of crimes. The huge stone wheel, turning in a circle where the wretches being executed were laid on their stomachs and bound hand and foot, would roll over them. They would hear its slow, grating approach. Sisters were called to witness when this was done. Fortunately, such executions occurred infrequently. A few of the older nuns had seen people crushed by the grinding wheel. They never spoke of it.

  The queen talked with me a little more and then left.

  The afternoon passed. I had a simple meal of food easily digested but no fermented drink such as we usually had at meals, only water. This was to minimize the chance I would vomit. When I went to bed that night I thought I would toss and turn. I thought sleep would refuse my eyes. But I slept soundly until the Venerable Mother woke me. She helped me on with a smock. I washed my face and hands, made a short devotion to Tuoneta, a goddess of chastity I and my two sisters worshipped and I had asked permission to pray to that morning. When I finished, Nemara led me down corridors I had not walked before because it was the forbidden part of the palace where only the king, his family, and selected servants could go. Among Maidens of the Court only the Venerable Mother could enter these precincts and now, of course, me. She took me to a small, circular room with heavy wooden doors on both sides of it and no windows, quietly blessed me, and departed, closing the door behind her. I heard a bolt slide shut.

  I shivered in the thin smock I wore. The marble floor felt cold to my feet. The circular chamber glowed with metallic runes embedded in the black marble that formed its wall. I could see even with no windows and the door shut because the runes gave off a mysterious, cool light. I noticed, when I glanced down, I stood in a circle of runic inscriptions. As I gazed at them, sounds began. I heard metal clacking and screeching. The door in front of me opened. Outside, torches flickered in the darkness. I heard bells ringing. The sound, not pleasant, but harsh and cacophonous, made me grit my teeth. A choir of voices somewhere sang what sounded like a lament.

  The ringing of the broken bells and the singing stopped. That, Queen Linise had told me, was the signal. As instructed, I walked forward.

  I came into a vast room. Torches and fire pots blazed at its edges. A large number of people—mostly men, it seemed—stood in the dim, uneven light. The cracked bells once more began their flat, monotonous pealing. I saw the queen, resplendent in her royal robes—purple stitched with silver thread—standing about thirty feet from where I stood. Her husband, the king, was with her.

  As she had taught me, I walked to the black circle painted on the white stone floor and stopped, making certain both my feet were within it. Like in the anteroom, runes encircled the spot on which I stood.

  I waited, trying not to move, keeping my breathing even and my hands at my sides. A wave of heat passed through my bowels. My anus quivered and I thought I might be visited with diarrhea, but the feeling passed. I calmed. I waited.

  I felt her approach.

  This was the most difficult moment. The instinct for self-preservation, for protection of one’s body, urged me to flee and hide. Panic crept over me. I foug
ht it. I summoned all the strength of my soul to counter the feelings that possessed me. As the presence of the Fire Witch came closer, my body demanded I flee. Then I got the idea I should oppose her and fight against her. I desperately held to my resolution. I persevered. The Fire Witch, an invisible spirit, descended and enveloped me.

  I’ve walked in thick fog. What I felt was something like that, though what surrounded me was neither wet, nor cold. It was not warm either but—and I don’t know exactly how to say this—it gave off an understanding of warmth. That was the most frightening thing about it. The thing around me was invisible. I could see the people, the firepots, the large darkened room, but all about me stood a person who had no form, no body, but nonetheless surrounded me, and I could feel her evaluating me, pondering, deciding. I could feel all of this like I could feel my sister’s breathe when we slept in the bed we shared all our lives. I could feel its warmth but not see her body in the dark of night. None of my senses aided me in this perception, yet I could sense her presence. I had thought evil would enshroud me, but her closeness expressed power and difference. That is the only way I can express it. Something completely different from anything I had experienced had descended. No concept in my mind could categorize it. It came closer.

  She entered my body from all sides. I thought I would feel her come in at one spot—through my back or perhaps the top of my head. But she encircled me; she wove a cocoon of her spirit-presence all about me and came into my body all at once and at all points. I also thought her entrance would be instantaneous, but she made her way into my flesh and spirit at a moderate pace. I was aware of her leaving a space about my heart and aware of the space getting smaller and smaller until her presence took my heart as well.

  I felt whirled by a tornado of energy, force, and otherness. The Fire Witch filled and possessed me, but I felt no heat, cold, no presence I could understand as evil or good. I felt a new reality in my mind, new blood in my veins, something other than air in my lungs. I felt my life ebb away. My heart stopped beating. I began to tremble and foam at the mouth. Urine and liquid feces ran down my legs, which lost their strength, and I collapsed to the floor, into my own filth, not falling, but slowly sinking as my spirit seemed to leave my body.

  I’m dying, I thought as my face touched the cold marble. My ears rang and I felt my soul fly upward toward the stars and moon.

  Death. I was dying.

  I was dead.

  Chapter 4

  I opened my eyes to a dark, blurry world. I wondered if I had gone to the land of unquiet spirits, though I thought I had lived a virtuous enough life to be among the blessed souls. Then I saw more light. My eyes focused on Aerid, a younger sister, sitting in a chair and reading a book. When I moved she started, gaped at me, rose, and ran out of the room. I felt relief that I was not dead and had not gone to hell. Soon the Venerable Mother and Sisters Felicity and Anna hurried into what I recognized now as my own bed chamber. The mother touched my hair.

  “Alethea, can you hear me?”

  I could only speak softly. “Yes, my Lady.” Out of habit I tried to raise myself up enough to bow to her. She stopped me by placing a hand gently on my shoulder.

  “No, child. Don’t try to get up. Do you need anything, Alethea?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  My throat was parched, my mouth dry. She sent Felicity to fetch water. I managed to raise my head enough to drink. It hurt to move. At the mother’s direction, Anna and Felicity filled the tub in the adjoining chamber. Felicity and Katarine carried me to the tub, gently lowered me in, and washed me. The water felt so good I sighed and purred with pleasure. They smiled, amused to see disciplined, unexpressive me give off sounds of joy, but also heartened that I was well enough to express the rapture I felt. They dried me and helped me put on a smock. I drank more and said I wanted something to eat. Janessa brought in broth and bread. She soaked the bread in the broth and fed it to me. It comforted me to see her. When I glanced up at her, she smiled.

  “Surprised they let me in here?” she said quietly, when the others were off in a corner tending to something.

  “I guess I am,” I managed to say.

  “I’ve heeded your advice and tried to behave myself. I’m in a little better standing than I was before.”

  Seeing her and hearing she was at least trying to accept her place in the convent, made me feel better. But sorrow wove its way through my relief at her turn of behavior. She hated it here. Being taken from her dream of a husband, children, and home had broken her heart. I didn’t know which would be harder: seeing her put to death for her behavior or seeing her wear her life away in sorrow, miserable and lonely but unable to alter her destiny. If put to death, she would not endure the grinding wheel but would be offered poison. I didn’t want to think about that. And yet, I thought of the many years she would endure here and could not bear that thought either. As she waited on me these things ran through my mind. I saw how I cherished her as a friend.

  After I ate I wanted to stand up. Janessa and Anna helped me get to my feet and take a few steps. As I was completing them, the doors opened and the queen came in.

  We stared, not certain what to do. The prioress and Felicity knelt. Janessa and Katerine helped me to a chair, though one was not supposed to sit in the presence of the queen, and then prostrated themselves.

  “Please, ladies, as you were. I would prefer to see you standing.”

  As they all got to their feet, Linise walked over to the chair I was sitting in. I tried to stand. She said, “As you were,” and then reached out and touched my face.

  The queen has large and lustrous eyes. She is tall and well-formed. She did not exactly smile, but she did not look angry or hostile, which was good.

  “Alethea, you have served well. The king, my husband, is pleased, as I am.”

  “Thank you, my Queen.” I still could get no volume in my voice. My words emerged as a whisper.

  “You are weary, I know. Gain your strength. I’ll speak with you at another time concerning your request. Be thinking of the thing you will ask for.”

  And then I knew. It would not be what she probably assumed.

  She left. Bathing, eating, and seeing the queen had exhausted me and I fell asleep. I woke hoping Janessa would be my attendant, but I saw Katerine. She asked me if I felt well. I told her I did. She asked if I desired anything. I said I could eat something. She brought me more substantial food this time and wine.

  I longed for the familiar routine of the convent and hated being cooped up in my room. Two days after Queen Linise visited, a team of physicians examined me and pronounced me strong enough to be up and around.

  I began my first day with breakfast and then worship. But after that, the Venerable Mother sent word that she wished to see me. I went to her office. There she told me the Fire Witch had requested to speak with me.

  Of course, I was frightened and wondered if I had done something to anger her. Still, obligation lay upon me to obey. Nemara and Thelka accompanied me. The hurried, scurrying figures who also traversed the halls of the palace made way for us. It was illegal, both for men and women, to touch or speak to a Maiden of the Court. We were completely holy to our task. Everyone gave a wide berth. I thought we would go to the room where the awful possession of my body had occurred, but instead we went to a suite of fancy apartments where guests of the king, high-ranking officials, and, I was told, high-class courtesans lived. The queen waited at a door. She gave me a hard look and nodded to two guards who opened the door for me and closed it once I was inside.

  The room, large, carpeted, filled with comfortable furniture, lighted with lamps, looked inviting. I smelled incense. I heard something, turned and saw the Fire Witch for the first time.

  She wore nothing but air. She was fair and blonde like the people from my district almost all are, her body well-formed with full breasts, strong limbs, a flat stomach that curved down to an abundance of light brown hair at the fork of her legs,
which were straight, slender, and powerful. Then, in a moment, she was clothed in a long, orange gown. It flickered like fire. I wondered if it indeed was fire, though it looked like cloth and I could feel no heat coming from it. She smiled. She had a beautiful face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling. “I have lived as a spirit the last few years and am not used to having a body or wearing clothing. I often forget to dress, which can be embarrassing.”

  I could only gape. I wondered if I should do some sort of obeisance.

  “Your name is Alethea?” she asked.

  The question snapped out of my torpor. I bowed. “Yes, and ever your servant—” My tongue stuck. I did not know how to address her.

  “Lady Goddess will be fine.”

  I wondered if I should kneel, but she came close and touched my shoulder.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me. In fact, I came here to apologize. I’m sorry I violated you, Alethea.”

  I stared at her. I did not know what to say. Her beauty had stunned me into silence.

  “Now, let me see. I surprised you by apologizing. Also, you are surprised I’m not ugly, gnarled, and green or purple like we imagine witches are. You think I’m pretty, which pleases me, but you are also surprised about that. They call me the Fire Witch. I am in fact a goddess, not a witch. I am Suelta.”

  Now I felt even more amazed. Suelta was an ancient goddess of fire and warmth. Her name in one of the ancient tongues of our people means “sun-warmed valley.” She also was the goddess of the heat of passion in a woman’s body and the heat that forms a child part by part over the months of pregnancy. Of course, my calling as a Maiden of the Court disallowed for me those aspects of a woman’s life.

  “You recognize my name.”

  “I speak the Dullov tongue.”

  “Then you know I am not a witch. How did you learn Dullov?”

  “My mother and father speak it. They are from Vistuala, where the language is still used. We spoke it in our home and I sang in a choir that remembered the ancient hymns in the old language.”