Queen Joanna

by Kate Danley

  And so she wept, clinging to the stone of the battlement like a pilgrim baptizing holy ground with her grateful tears.

  And so the guards began to whisper that King Stephen had driven one more queen mad.

  “WHY?” STEPHEN ASKED, his face full of confusion as Joanna stood before him like an accused prisoner the next day. The throne room was empty so that only they were witness to their words. His crown sat heavily upon his limp curls. “What would cause you to so sin against yourself and the gods? Why would you seek death in the dead of night?”

  “It was not my doing,” said Joanna, trying to explain. “It was only a dream.”

  “Your words are just like hers!” he burst out, his voice pleading at her to change her story, to tell him some other truth. “Why would you choose to mimic the path of a woman who caused my heart so much pain and harm?”

  His words chilled her. “I did not know that she perished this way,” insisted Joanna. “It was not my intention... It was a dream. It was just a dream.”

  “Have I been cruel? Have I been demanding or unkind? I stayed away from you,” Stephen shouted impotently, “because I feared that I was the cause, I was the reason that she ended herself, and I did not wish to push you to such dire ends!” He placed his forehead in his hand and Joanna did not know if it was rage or despair which caused his shoulders to tremble. He seemed trapped in the memories of what had happened before. “Why would history repeat itself?” he asked to no one. “I have done everything different. I have walked the exact opposite path. Perhaps it is my own inattention which has caused you so much grief...”

  “Nay...” she began.

  He looked up at her, his brown eyes burning with remorse. “I shall give you all the riches you could ever desire,” he promised. “I shall shower you with wealth and joy! But you must not sin against yourself again!”

  And the next day, her room was filled with jewels and gold. New gowns were laid upon the bed. Birds and monkeys and every delight were brought before her to try and make her smile.

  But when she went to bed, the dream returned. Her feet were upon the walkway. Her legs carried her to the top of the castle parapet. And once more, it was a guard who saved her from jumping to her death.

  As she was carried back to her room, she caught the face of Queen Mary scraping the inside of the mirror, trying to break through.

  “Staaaaay awaaaaay!” the queen hissed.

  The next day and the next, the pleasures and gifts doubled. They were piled at her feet for the taking. Carriage horses. Hunting parties. Acrobats. New fools. New ladies. The rights of her people stolen in the war, restored. Sacred land was returned to northern rule.

  And yet every night she found herself upon the parapet. No matter how many ladies slept in watch, no matter how many bolts were thrown in the door, her feet found a way to begin the death march.

  The advisors began to whisper that her madness was caused by want of motherhood, that a child would calm her hysteria.

  Finally, King Stephen said at the morning meal, “I shall come to you this evening. I shall fulfill my duties as your husband and king.” And then he got up and left the table, a man condemned.

  Joanna could have wept. Finally. King Stephen’s actions would protect her from her uncle, her life would be preserved, her promise fulfilled. She had wooed him. And perhaps, she tried to comfort herself, this madness had been brought by the knowledge of her impending death at her uncle’s hand if she did not capture this king. Perhaps the advisors were right and the solution was a child. Perhaps, once this night was done, she would fear looking in a mirror no more.

  She waited anxiously for night to fall.

  When King Stephen entered her chambers, her lady-maids politely excused themselves and scattered.

  Stephen’s face was pained. Joanna knew from his nightly visits to his queen’s chapel that he did not wish to be in the room with her. But she did not care. She would see it through, no matter what the cost to Stephen. She would do whatever it took to stop the dead queen’s curse. He began unlacing his doublet. Joanna waited. And then she looked into her mirror and screamed.

  It was her face. Queen Mary’s face. She was coming out of the glass. The mirror wept scarlet. And that was when Joanna realized that when Stephen had sworn anyone who might follow him at night would die, it was not by his hand. It was by hers, by his Mary, his jealous Mary. It was her hand which kept him bound to death.

  “STAY AWAY!” Queen Mary screamed, her voice mingling with Joanna’s terror.

  The king turned, scanning the room for the danger that caused her fear.

  “The Queen!” Joanna said, her hand trembling as she pointed at the mirror. “The Queen!” she cried out again.

  Stephen’s face paled as he shook his head disbelievingly. “What?”

  “She is there!” Joanna sobbed. “Right there!”

  Stephen shook his head, as if waking from a dream or a spell. He swiftly tied his garments and strode out of the room, leaving Joanna alone with nothing but the mirror.

  “Staaaaaay awaaaaay...” Queen Mary hissed.

  Joanna’s ladies rushed inside to calm her hysteria, to stroke her hair and murmur words of comfort, but it was no use.

  The blood that dripped from the mirror did not disappear.

  And in the morning, the broken body of one of Joanna’s ladies was found upon the ground outside the castle. The whispers began that the madness of Queen Joanna was catching, a poison which would invade the mind and lead to death.

  But Joanna knew the truth. It was not her, but the queen in the mirror, who caused these terrible deeds.

  Her girl’s death was Queen Mary’s revenge.

  And it would never end. She knew it. It would never stop. Mary would never allow her husband to move on. The wedding would have to be annulled if either of them hoped to survive. And so Joanna strode into the throne room where her husband held court. Her ebony hair hung loose and unbrushed. The ties on her clothing were held as best she had been able to do herself. She did not care. It could not wait. His advisors and attendants were busy discussing matters in the cavernous hall and paid her no mind. She walked up to Stephen on his dais, not pausing to curtsey or even acknowledge his place with a tilt of her head. Instead, she gripped his arm fiercely.

  “Your wife is alive,” Joanna said, knowing he would not believe her.

  The king looked at her as if she were a raving madwoman. “What did you say?”

  At the sound of his voice, the entire room stopped and looked at the royal couple.

  “I said,” Joanna answered, lowering her voice, “That your old wife is alive.”

  Her words struck him like a blow to the face. “How could that possibly be?” said King Stephen, pity in his eyes. “If she is alive, where is she?”

  Joanna wet her lips. “She lives in the mirrors of the palace.”

  The court broke out into titters, and then into guffaws, and then gales of laughter.

  “I speak the truth,” she insisted, hot tears of embarrassment coming to her. “She has bewitched you, my liege. She lives in the mirror and will stop at nothing to destroy us.”

  “My wife,” he replied slowly and succinctly, so that there would be no misunderstanding his seriousness, “is dead. And, the gods rest her blessed soul, she would never seek to destroy a woman so unworthy to be her successor as you. You will never speak to me about this again.”

  “But my liege—”

  “NEVER!” he roared.

  Her face burning with shame, she swiftly left the room with the few shreds of dignity that she could gather around herself.

  How could he not believe her? How could he not see that his dead wife would drive them both to an early grave?

  “Leeeeeave hiiiimmmm allllooooone!” hissed the queen as Joanna passed by a mirror.

  Joanna looked around and found a pedestal. With all her strength, she lifted it and hurled it at the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

  The courtier
s in the hallway stopped. Silence descended as they all stared in shock.

  “GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS!” she screamed at them, and then ran on down the hall, brushing the wetness from her cheeks.

  She grabbed a servant who was scurrying by. “You must remove every bit of gold, every bit of glass. Cover every mirror. Sand every piece of wood to dullness! Nothing can remain which will show a face in its surface!”

  “My queen?” the servant stuttered, unsure.

  “Am I or am I not your queen?” she roared. “You will do as I command!”

  The servant bowed and then ran to spread word of her edict.

  The whispers now began that this mad queen was a pious woman and wanted not the trappings of royalty. People’s hearts began to soften, thinking that it was their own suffering that caused her to suffer so. But the king, finding his golden goblet replaced with a wooden cup, upended the table in the banquet hall and decreed that only gold and silver fill his house. And he called for his own personal physician to look in upon the queen.

  His men held Joanna down upon her bed as a black-robed man peered into her eyes, bled her from her arms and legs, placed leeches upon her temples, and found no solution.

  “She seems to be bent upon self-harm,” said the court physician to King Stephen. “There is little else I can do.”

  “I do not wish myself harm!” Joanna insisted, struggling against the strong hands restraining her, begging for them to listen to her and believe. “The queen is alive and drives me to my death!”

  The physician took Stephen aside. “She raves. Perhaps a priest should be called to hear her confession, in case she has been possessed by an evil spirit,” the physician suggested.

  “Please,” Joanna whispered. “Please, do. Anything!” she begged.

  But the priest merely looked at her and shook his head. He anointed her. He assured her he had chased out the demons and that she was now safe. But as he touched her forehead, the walls of the room ran red. Blood pooled upon the floor, ankle-deep. The face of the queen was everywhere. “Jooooannnna!” she cried. “Jooooaaaannnna!” she said a thousand times.

  Joanna screamed for help.

  “Please,” King Stephen begged, kneeling at her side. “Please return to me.” He took her hand tenderly, and for the first time, she saw love in his eyes.

  And she knew what she must do to save him.

  That night, it was not in a dream that Joanna walked up the steps. It was not by the force of a dead queen that her feet carried her to the battlement. She looked and waited until the guard had already passed by. And then, when all was silent, she stepped from the top of the wall out into the quiet.

  As the ground rushed toward her, she heard the queen’s cry.

  As the pain, the blackness, the end engulfed her... she woke to find herself in a room exactly like her bedchambers.

  Joanna stood, her heart broken, knowing that she had not escaped. She walked over to the mirror. But this time, there was no reflection. Instead, it was like a window peering into a room, a room that seemed to be a mirror image of the one she now found herself in. It was her own room. The Queen’s chambers.

  And then Stephen entered.

  He did not seem to see her, and so Joanna pounded upon the glass to get his attention. “Stephen! Stephen, can you hear me?”

  But he did not turn. He did not acknowledge her. He just walked into the room with a girl who looked just like Joanna on his arm. She was dressed in a wedding gown of gold and white. Tenderly, he kissed her cheek before leading her to the bed.

  Just then, Joanna saw something by her left hand. A note upon the dressing table, the note from her uncle that the advisor passed to her a lifetime ago, which she had cast down. After all this time, it still waited. But the unintelligible words on the front were suddenly not just scribbles. In her uncle’s looping scrawl, it said, “Joanna, you shall know when to open this.”

  She picked it up and broke her uncle’s seal and read: “And so vengeance for your father’s death is meted out. His curse shall break King Stephen. All that ever touch his heart with love shall be driven mad and taken from him. And so I thank you for fulfilling your duty, sweet niece. Your affectionate uncle.”

  The bride in King Stephen’s bed looked over at her in the mirror and her eyes widened in fear as she saw Joanna.

  And Joanna knew her duty. She screamed out in warning as she pounded on the glass, “Stay away!”

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  Other Titles

  McDougall Previews Award for Best Fantasy Book of the Year

  WINNER - 1st Place Fantasy Book, Reader Views Reviewers Choice Awards

  Before Romeo & Juliet, there was... Queen Mab.

  WHEN FAUNUS, THE GOD of daydreams, breaks the heart of Queen Mab, revenge can be the only answer. Using the most powerful families in Verona, they wage their war against one another, and place their final bets upon the heads of two youths, one named Romeo and the other named Juliet.

  But when Queen Mab falls in love with a gentleman named Mercutio, everything changes and she will do anything, even if it means destroying the world, to save him. Will it be enough to stop the tragedy? Or only spur it forward to its terrible end?

  Weaving Shakespeare's original text into a dark, epic fantasy, fans of The Woodcutter will love this latest retelling by USA TODAY bestselling author Kate Danley. Experience the romance of Romeo & Juliet from a different point of view - through the eyes of the bringer of dreams... Queen Mab.

  http://www.katedanley.com/mab.html

  About the Author

  USA TODAY bestselling author Kate Danley is a twenty year veteran of stage and screen with 300+ credits to her name and a B.S. in theatre from Towson University. She was one of four students to be named a Maryland Distinguished Scholar in the Arts.

  Her debut novel, The Woodcutter (published by 47North), was honored with the Garcia Award for the Best Fiction Book of the Year, the 1st Place Fantasy Book in the Reader Views Literary Awards, and the winner of the Sci-Fi/Fantasy category in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards. Her book Queen Mab received the McDougall Previews Award for Best Fantasy Book of the Year and 1st Place Fantasy Book in the Reader Views Reviewers Choice Awards. Her Maggie MacKay: Magical Tracker series has been optioned for film and television.

  Her plays have been produced in New York, Los Angeles, and Maryland. Her screenplay Fairy Blood won 1st Place in the Breckenridge Festival of Film Screenwriting Competition in the Action/Adventure Category and her screenplay American Privateer was a 2nd Round Choice in the Carl Sautter Memorial Screenwriting Competition.

  Her projects The Playhouse, Dog Days, Sock Zombie, SuperPout, and Sports Scents can be seen in festivals and on the internet. She trained in on-camera puppetry with Mr. Snuffleupagus and played the head of a 20-foot dinosaur on an NBC pilot.

  She lost on Hollywood Squares.

  www.katedanley.com

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Queen Joanna. Copyright © 2014 Kate Danley.

  All rights reserved.

  Originally published in the From the Indie Side anthology 2014

  Cover Art Image by Cover Shot Creations

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