by Lucas Flores
“What’s this girl’s name and what happened to her?” Blackheart asked.
“Trinity, My Lady,” the guard replied. “I don’t know what happened. I found her like this.”
“Does anyone else know about this? Have you awakened the queen?”
“No,” the guard replied.
“Good. Wrap the body and take it to the tower before the morning bells ring. Have the executioner cremate the body.”
“Yes, My Lady,” the guard said.
“And tell no one of this,” she continued. “Not even the queen.”
* * *
When the morning bells rang, the queen sat up in her bed. The room was dark, but hints of early morning sunlight peeked in from behind the window coverings.
Before the queen could get out of bed, her ladies-in-waiting entered the room one at a time. The first was Amanda, with her usual large, beaming smile. She pulled back and pinned the heavy window drapery to the side while humming. As dawn’s light bathed the room in reddish and auburn hues, Beatrice, another of the queen’s ladies, rushed in. Dressed in light blue, she passed through the room swiftly and entered the washroom to prepare the queen’s bath.
Amanda then cleaned and replaced the candles situated atop the large wooden furniture. Celine, the third woman who entered, was older. Slower and steady in her gait, she approached the giant four-poster bed at the center of the room and pulled back the layers of sheer linens that adorned it. “Good morning, My Queen,” she sang, as she worked at the linens.
Several other women glided into the room. Each carried an assortment of clothes, powders, and other items to aid in preparing the queen for her day.
Therese was the final woman to enter. She brought in breakfast pastries and dishes and quietly laid them out on a long, narrow credenza situated at the back of the room. She bowed toward the queen, stepped out of the room, and closed the bedroom door.
“I swear, you women are exhausting,” the queen said as she stepped onto the cold floor and winced.
Two of the nearest women rushed toward the queen and offered assistance.
Celine, from behind a pile of bed linens, warned, “Don’t overdo it, Your Majesty. You should probably stay in bed today. Let them help you.”
The queen waved her hand and walked to the spread of food even though she didn’t have much of an appetite.
Heavy breathing replaced the chatter and clatter of the ladies working.
“What’s wrong with all of you?” the queen asked.
The women exchanged glances with one another. Their heavy breathing turned to loud and labored gasps.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I’m having trouble breathing,” Amanda explained, breathless.
Looks of panic swept from face to face across the room.
“Why is my skin burning?” one asked.
“Mine too!” another said.
Celine, standing closest to the queen, collapsed. Another passed out immediately after.
The other women quickly discarded or threw what they were holding and stumbled into one another while trying to aid those who lay lifeless on the floor. Powder and undergarments flew across the room.
“You women must be joking!” the queen shouted. “Humph!” Dodging clouds of powder and stepping over clothes, she walked into the washroom and slammed the door closed behind her.
Beatrice poured a pail of steaming water into the half-filled tub.
The queen shrugged. “Get out, and fetch the doctor to examine the women who fainted.”
“Fainted? Who fainted? Which women need examining, Your Majesty?”
The queen closed her eyes, took a slow deep breath, and groaned. She jerked the door open and stomped her foot angrily while gesturing for the young woman to leave the washroom.
Finally alone, the queen relished the silence. After bathing, she tiptoed across the washroom to get a towel. Since becoming queen, someone always drew her bath and washed her hair. This was the first time she was left alone and she was a little hesitant. When done drying herself, she stepped out of the washroom and paused at the site of her quiet bedroom. The women were gone. Powder and clothes covered the floor and were the only remnants of the bizarre scene that occurred earlier.
The queen picked up a few pieces of clothing and started dressing. She was amused at how long it had been since she had completed these ordinary tasks herself. She walked to the mirror, picked up a small finger-length brush, and applied a layer of white powder over her face. She almost did not recognize the woman gazing back at her from within the mirror. She tried not to think about her altered appearance and instead compensated with her wardrobe. She picked out a white multi-layered dress that shimmered brightly and added a false dab of color to her skin. She crowned her head with jewels and white ribbons of satin and silk to distract people from her noticeably damaged hair.
Standing in front of the mirror, she frowned. “I look like a corpse bride.” The white dress only drew attention to her cracked skin and to the dark circles around her eyes. “Ugh!”
A cloud of white erupted around her as she layered more powder onto her arms, face, and neck. There was nothing she could do to cover up or hide her corpse-like appearance. She threw the brush and makeup on the floor. “This can’t be,” she whispered. “Is this the Widow’s Curse?”
The Widow’s Curse was an old wives’ tale about a woman who had lost her husband during an accident in the Caterpillar’s Forest. While mourning her loss, the widow walked deep into the forest to weep. Feeling the woman’s sorrow, the spirit of the forest appeared in the shape of a black spider as a sign of condolence. But the woman, blinded by sadness and anger, refused the forest's sentiment and killed the spider in an attempt to avenge her loss. The trees around her shuddered. The spirit flared back to life as a pair of large eyes, one colored red and the other green. Its voice filled her ears with a curse. Widow, you mourn death yet kill without a blink. Your inner lament shall be your torment. You will age, but never die. You will live, but life around you will be sucked dry.
The queen dismissed the thought. Impossible. That was just a story that kept women up at night. She trudged down the winding stairway alongside the large gleaming crystal chandeliers that hung over the marble foyer. Sunlight poured through the undraped windows of the massive room. Bustle from the main floor echoed upward. Every little sound combined into waves of clashing noise.
As the queen walked down the staircase, the buzz and movement stopped. Everyone bowed and waited for her to pass. The only sound coming from the foyer was the clack of her heels hitting the marble floor as she crossed to enter her Court Room.
A monolithic entrance constructed of large slabs of marble separated the foyer from the Court Room. Swirls of black and grey cascaded across the surface in a dizzying fashion.
A court steward stood by the entrance and cleared his throat. The young man bowed and ceremoniously pounded his staff on the ground. Upon announcing the queen’s arrival in a loud and confident tone, the steward stammered slightly and barely choked out the last word before gasping for air. “Her Majesty the Queen of Wonderland.”
“What’s wrong with you this morning, boy?” the queen asked before entering.
The Court Room was where the queen and her governors carried out their day-to-day tasks. There was no rhyme or reason to the cases they heard or the rulings they made, as long as they were what the queen and her cousin wanted.
Also assembled, behind the governors, were the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. Everyone stood and bowed.
After taking her seat in front of her court, the queen opened the session. Stiff and poised on her chair, she said, “There is something wrong with the torches in the palace. We need them all replaced. On my way down, just now, I noticed that the torches on the walls faded and burned out along the way. Either they were not replaced earlier this morning or there is something else wrong. I find it difficult to believe that all the torches are defective. Who here is in charge of maintenance and housekeeping
?”
A fat, round woman slowly raised her hand. It and her voice trembled. “I am, Your Majesty.”
“Ah, good!” the queen shouted from across the room. “Come closer!”
As the young woman approached the throne, the queen asked, “What’s your name, dear?”
“Jeannine Hoggle, Your Majesty,” the woman whispered, her voice still shaking.
“Louder,” the queen said. “I can’t hear you.”
“Lady Hoggle, Your Majesty. Your third cousin through marriage.”
“Yes, of course you are. So, you’re responsible for these torches?" the queen asked.
“I’m embarrassed to say that I am, Your Majesty.”
“Well, Lady Hoggle. I don’t want to take too much time on the subject. I’ll leave it to you to make sure this doesn’t happen again tomorrow,” the queen said, gesturing for her to return to her seat.
The queen maintained her stone-like demeanor. She licked her dry lips and stretched her neck to loosen her collar. “Before we move on to business, I want to discuss another issue that needs your attention.”
The queen addressed her ladies and relieved them of their duties. She told them that they were no longer needed for something that she could easily do herself. “Just look at me,” she said, “I managed just fine on my own. And now that you have more time, you can make yourselves useful by cleaning my bedroom from top to bottom. You left it a mess this morning. Not even a street rat would sit its disease-infested ass on my floor.”
The women gasped.
After a slight pause, the queen screamed, “Now! You can start by cleaning it now!”
The group of women rushed out of the Court Room.
Agitated, the queen dismissed the governors as well. She stepped into the corridor and told Marie, Josephine, and Therese that she would like a word with them, upstairs in her private study.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the three replied in unison.
When the four were alone, the queen closed the door and asked, “Where is my child?”
Marie stepped forward. “We did what we were told, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s brow rose. She turned to Josephine and Therese. “Is this true? So soon?”
Therese lowered her head and avoided the queen’s gaze.
Josephine nodded. “Yes .. . . Yes, Your Majesty. We took the baby out of the palace and drowned her in the river.”
The queen flinched. Her face sagged into a deep frown, “My dear ladies, I .. . . I had no idea you would act so swiftly.” She walked across the room to an open window that overlooked the sprawling city. Cool air from outside flowed in. “Well .. . . what’s done is done.”
Marie stepped forward. “May I speak freely, Your Majesty?” she asked.
“Of course,” the queen whispered.
“You’ve stood up to Lady Blackheart before. Why not this time?” Marie asked. “This was your child, your own flesh and blood.”
The queen scowled in regret. “I’ve had my disagreements with Elzana. If it were up to her, every leper and sympathizer would be dead. That includes you, Marie.”
Sympathizer. Another term that made the queen’s stomach churn. This was what Blackheart called anyone caught aiding or hiding a leper during or after the inquisition—the relocation of lepers to the Caterpillar’s Forest.
“Elzana is only looking out for what’s best, for all of us,” the queen said. “Besides, no one would have accepted that child as their princess.”
Marie took a step forward and opened her mouth to respond, but the queen lifted her hand to stop her. “Marie, don’t worry about it. What’s done is done. Please go now.”
* * *
Marie and her two companions returned to the foyer.
Blackheart approached from a distance, dressed in a cloud of soft fabric laced with gold ribbons and decorative bows. Her silvery spun-up hair was adorned with crystals and towered over those around her.
Marie quickly parted from Josephine and Therese. As she rounded a corner and hastened her approach to the West Wing, she could hear Blackheart’s shrill voice. “Where do you think you two are going? And where’s the third withered hag, that dirty little swine who completes your trio?” Blackheart asked. “I am asking you witches a question. And why are you just standing around? You heard the queen. She wants her room cleaned from top to bottom. Let’s go. Get to cleaning, wench! And don’t forget your old friend here.” The sound of Blackheart’s laughter filled the foyer.
“Oh, thank God,” Marie whispered, grateful to have escaped Blackheart’s path. She rushed through the obscure halls of the West Wing, knowing she couldn’t keep the child in the palace. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what she would do if she walked into her room and found the infant eaten by rats and dead on the floor.
Halfway back to her room, she tripped over a loose stone and fell into a murky puddle. Wet and a bit scraped, she got back onto her feet and shook the dirty water off.
A strange sound echoed through the darkness.
Marie paused. What was that? It sounded like a person but nobody was around. With no time to waste, she continued on her way.
Before Marie could open her door, an elderly woman, nearly naked and drenched in her own waste, approached. Balding, with only a few decaying teeth left in her mouth, the woman could barely speak. “I heard noises coming from your room.”
“Noises?” Marie replied. “I’m sorry, dear, but your ears must be giving out on you like the rest of your body.”
“My ears are perfectly fine, you old cow.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m far too busy to chat,” Marie said. “If I were you, I would worry more about staying out of the way than chasing silly ghosts.” Marie quickly entered her room and locked the door behind her.
The old woman shouted from outside the room. “Crying! I heard a baby crying in your room!”
Marie remained at the door for a moment, ready to open it and usher the old woman away if she kept shouting. Luckily, the shouting stopped.
Lying right where Marie left her, the baby girl was safe, unharmed, and asleep. “What a beautiful child,” Marie whispered. She lit another candle and retrieved one of the bottles of milk she took from the birthing room. “There has to be a way to get you out of the palace.”
The baby stirred.
“Oops, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Marie said. “But, it is time to eat.” She cradled the girl in the crook of her arm and fed her. The baby’s eyes twinkled.
Marie smiled and whispered a prayer as she laid the girl back on her bed. “I’ll be back, my angel.”
She left the candles lit so that the baby wouldn’t be alone in the dark. It made her feel a little more secure, though nothing could really ease her fears entirely.
Marie hesitated by the door, but couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to get back to her chores. Out in the hallway, she locked the door and looked cautiously over her shoulder.
Swiftly approaching footsteps echoed from down the hall. “Is this where you’ve been hiding, you old witch?” Blackheart asked.
Marie jumped. “Your Grace,” she said as she bowed. “How .. . . How do you do?”
“Quiet, I’m not here for small talk. I heard someone shouting from here and have taken it upon myself to investigate.”
“How noble of you,” Marie said. “What do you really want?”
“Watch your tongue,” Blackheart warned. “To my amazement, I found an old woman practically bathed in her own urine wandering these hallways. She was disgusting. She wouldn’t stop screaming,” Blackheart said. “Something about a baby. Do you happen to know what she is talking about?”
“No, Your Grace, I don’t.” She stood, frozen with fear, hoping that the baby on the other side of the door remained quiet.
“I can’t believe someone like her has been allowed to live in such a state. I had the crone removed and taken to the tower. Her usefulness, much like the rest of her body, seems to have expired.” Blackheart’s eyes narrowe
d as she leaned in toward Marie. “But now that we are on the subject, did you take care of the leper?”
“Yes,” Marie replied. “We waited until everyone was asleep before taking her out to the river. First, to keep the child’s screams and cries from being heard, we stuffed the infant’s mouth with old filthy rags. Then, to keep the body from coming afloat, we cut open her stomach and filled it with stones.”
Blackheart smiled. “That’s horrifying. You know, I was about to search your room, to be sure that you weren’t hiding that hideous thing. But I think you are learning. Besides, I really don’t want to be in this part of the palace much longer. I can already feel my body itching with fleas.”
Marie smiled and nodded. Go to hell you dirty witch, she thought.
“Well, I guess my work here is done,” Blackheart said. “Whatever you do, Marie, don’t break a leg anytime soon. I’m having the entire wing swept through tomorrow, room by room. That old hag was the first to go. It’s time to clean house and whoever can’t work better be able to run out of the palace, or I’ll have their head.”
CHAPTER 2
“Wake up, Therese,” Marie whispered.
Therese twitched and opened her eyes.
Marie stood next to Therese’s bed wearing an old dingy frock and shaking a lamp. With her ragged hair pinned back, she stared down at Therese. Desperate, she continued. “Get up. Get the bed bugs out of your hair and get ready.”
“What has gotten into you, Marie?” Therese asked as she rubbed the cloud of sleep off her face. “It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” Therese nearly jumped out of bed when she saw Marie carrying the baby. “You brought her here? What is wrong with you?” Therese shouted in her dry coarse voice. “You’ll get us killed!”
“Quiet, Therese. Quiet,” Marie whispered. “Please stay calm. You’ll get us caught. We need to get the child out of the palace. Elzana plans to sweep through the West Wing tomorrow. We have no time to waste. We have to get the baby out of the palace and out of Blackheart’s ruthless path.”
