Shards Of The Glass Slipper: Queen Alice

by Roy A. Mauritsen

  “Jovette, Gael. Get up!” The Maldame banged loudly on their bedroom doors, “Get dressed!”

  Cinderella’s stepmother and her stepsisters still lived in the same house together, even after Cinderella had moved out of their small estate to marry the prince. With the dutiful Cinderella no longer there to perform the endless array of upkeep the grand house and its grounds had fallen into disarray. But that was a different time and now the house was used mainly as a meeting place and home to several other members of the witch’s coven.

  It took some time for the sisters to prepare for their arrival at the castle, as the younger witches had come to enjoy the posh style of dress. By mid-morning the three of them were waiting outside, the sisters having packed several suitcases, much to the protest of their coven leader, the Maldame. Their carriage, though somewhat fancy but by no means royal, showed signs of age and wear much like the two horses that had pulled it around to the front of the house. The carriage driver, a tall broad-chested man in a hooded cloak, jumped down from the driver’s seat, and quietly grabbed the suitcases with his gloved right hand and stowed them on the back. He then went to open the door for the three witches.

  “Oh, he’s not coming with us, is he, Maldame?” Gael bemoaned, ignoring the offered hand of help from the man as she stepped into the carriage. Following closely behind was Jovette, who gave a scoffing sigh and ignored him as well as she settled into the worn velvet carriage seats.

  “It is time to embrace our destiny, sisters,” the Maldame proclaimed as she accepted the driver’s hand and stepped up into the carriage for the long ride from Cornish to Marchenton castle. “Let us travel to Castle Marchen and be welcomed through its gates. Our poor stepdaughter Cinderella will need our support in this dark time. The fulfillment of our prophecy awaits!”

  ***

  “May I have a glass of water please?” Cinderella rubbed her forehead; the queen’s crown was not yet properly fitted and was giving the former princess a pounding headache. Adding to that was her thick royal dress; heavy, hot and confining. The throne was stiff and uncomfortable, and the gathering of staff and advisors that had crowded in the receiving room were all bickering loudly above each other in a heightened buzz of concern.

  “Grain stores are low,” one of Cinderella’s advisors pushed through the myriad of discussions to try and get the new queen’s attention. “This cloud cover has been over too long now, the crops have not been able to grow and winter is approaching!”

  “Any word from the neighboring kingdoms?” Cinderella asked aloud to the group. “Is anyone willing to offer supplies for us through the winter?”

  “No, my queen,” another advisor answered. “The neighboring kingdoms feel that the beanstalk was a curse and want no part of us or else they would suffer the same fate as us.”

  “That’s what they think? Ask again,” Cinderella implored, weariness hung on her words.

  “My queen, we’ll need to organize a militia,” said another advisor. “In case the army doesn’t return we are rather vulnerable right now should another kingdom have ideas of invading.”

  “Has there been any word from the army?” someone else shouted.

  “We’ve no worry of invasion with all of the revolts and uprisings across our own kingdom,” came a reply from some on else in the crowd. “What are you going to do about that?”

  “I-I don’t know yet,” Cinderella’s answer was less than assuring and the gathering staff buzzed louder. “I’m trying to find out what resources we have for that, but the King’s conscription took most of the able-bodied men. Can I have a glass of water please?” She asked again, her voice failing into desperation.

  “We’ve gotten our tenth decline for the autumn ball. This last one is from King Cole’s kingdom. King Marchen would use these festivals to discuss trade agreements with the neighboring kingdoms,” another elderly advisor interjected. “At this rate we’ll have to cancel the whole thing… first time since I can remember,” the elderly advisor despaired.

  “The taxations from the markets help to offset the costs to maintain the king’s road during winter,” added yet another advisor. His breathing was solely through his chubby mouth, with a rather rotund belly that bulged beneath straining gold buttons. “Without the villages supporting the markets there’s nothing to tax. What percentage did you want to increase the tax to compensate for the— ”

  “Can’t someone else handle that?” Cinderella asked, her head pounding as she tried to recall what little she knew of the royal taxing oversights.

  “Which one? The road tax?” The portly advisor asked.

  “The festival?” The elderly advisor asked

  “All of it!” Cinderella snapped.

  “But you are the queen! These matters must be addressed by the throne,” the advisors scoffed.

  “Hardly a queen,” someone in the crowd commented loudly, “just another show pony for the prince, if you asked me.”

  “Those who call themselves royal advisors are not living up to their titles as much as they are living up to their coffers, if you were to ask me.” Cinderella responded coldly. “And speaking of titles, I am a princess at least trying to act like a queen! Trying to do the best I can!” Cinderella stressed in a loud voice. The crowd momentarily silenced at the outburst.

  “And failing,” Cinderella added softly as the urge to cry rose about her eyes but for a moment, she slumped back into the throne. “Can I get some damn water, PLEASE!” She yelled finally, anger pushing down her tears.

  A chamber maid appeared in the crowd of royal officials and advisors, pushing through to the throne, she gave her best curtsey to approach the queen.

  “Yes, Catherine, what is it?” Cinderella said weary of yet another formality and yet another request of her.

  The Chambermaid whispered quickly in the young queen’s ear and Cinderella shot up straight in her throne with a jolt.

  “This meeting is adjourned!” Cinderella immediately ordered to the crowd who rabbled at the sudden announcement. “Henry, I am going for a walk to get some air.”

  Once Cinderella had left the receiving room, she walked with the chambermaid, stopping in the doorway to momentarily, “pop a few of these buttons off so I can breathe,” she said, and exhaled deeply.

  The chambermaid dutifully went to help loosened the queen’s elegant gown a bit.

  “Thank you, Catherine, you’ve given me as good excuse as any to get out of there,” Cinderella said as the two walked briskly down the hall. “They only time they seem to respond is when I have to lose my temper.”

  Cinderella spied an unattended serving tray resting on a small side table in the hallway and stopped briefly to pour herself a glass of water.

  “I was hoping to not call too much attention, but being as you are the acting steward and queen, you should see this,” Catherine said, concern crossed her voice. “It is hard for me to explain, M’lady.”

  They reached the queen’s private chambers and entered, Cinderella gave Catherine a puzzled look as the chambermaid motioned quickly to step towards the balcony.

  “Do you see it?” Catherine asked, throwing open the tall balcony doors.

  Staring out of the balcony, Cinderella still did not understand.

  “Just the grey overcast cloudy sky that has been this way every day for almost a year. What is it I'm looking at?

  “The rain,” Catherine insisted.

  “It's raining?” Cinderella replied. The balcony stone was starting to quickly darken with wet rain drops.

  “Look at it—the sky. It's starting to get worse. I wanted you to see this, its going to cause some problems,” Catherine said again with concern.

  “Flooding?” Cinderella asked.

  “No, the rain...it's red,” Catherine replied.

  Cinderella looked harder, noticing from her vantage point high in the castle that across the landscape, the rainy haze was tinged in a faint murky red. It was midday; the sun would not set for hours still so it was not a t
rick of the sunset; overcast or not, she realized. Intrigued, Cinderella stepped out of the balcony, holding her hand out to the cold drizzle. The rain drops began to collect in her palm, it was noticeably tainted red. She looked up towards the clouded sky, it seemed the clouds were growing tinted with a grayish maroon color.

  A sudden horrific thought crossed the princess-queen’s mind as she looked at her hand.

  Blood.

  This was blood from the army that had traveled up the beanstalk and disappeared into the clouds. Cinderella took a slow, horrified step backwards, still staring at her rain-soaked hand. The rain was getting steady and more heavily tinted with blood. In the dull distance of her awareness she began to hear shouts and screams from about the castle grounds, from the others that started to realize what the rain was bringing. Perhaps it was the giant’s blood and her prince and the army were victorious in the clouds.

  That notion was quickly dispelled with an unmistakably sound. Not like thunder but of a heavy whoosh. Then off in the distance, a dull, wet thud could be heard on one of the castle rooftops. Cinderella looked up from the red water in her palms. From above there was another sudden whoosh, and a heavy sickening thud landed right in front of them on the balcony. Catherine was the first to scream as Cinderella was suddenly shocked back to reality turning to see a lifeless body falling from a great height through the sky smashing upon the grand balcony in front of them. The broken body was of a soldier, wearing the armor and dressing of the royal army of Marchenton.

  Cinderella felt disconnected from her surroundings as the handmaiden screamed. In the distance she could hear another far away scream as another body fell from the clouds to the ground. Quickly, the two hurried inside as they hastily shut the grand balcony doors. Locking the doors Cinderella shoved the curtains tightly together. As they did, Cinderella caught sight of another body further away from the castle as it fell from the clouds. Then another fell further in the distance. And another.

  “Lock all the doors! Shut all the windows. No one gets inside! No one gets inside,” Cinderella repeated frantically. Wiping her hand on her elegant dress, Cinderella left a reddish stain on it.

  From elsewhere around the castle grounds she heard more screams, shouts and murmurs as more and more people began to realize it was raining the blood of Englishmen, and the crumpled, crushed bodies of the king’s army were falling from the clouds.

  A horrible day turned into a more horrific night as the blood-soaked rain and bodies continued to drop from the clouds all over the kingdom. Remains of soldiers were strewn cross fields and roads, smashing through the roofs of barns, stables and homes. Over the course of that night terrified villagers made their way to the castle to seek shelter and answers. Throughout that night, Cinderella and the remains of her court huddled in firelight from the throne room’s fire place, collectively reflexively wincing at any loud thud they heard throughout the castle.

  By the following day, there were more soldier’s bodies scattered about the kingdom and even more villagers packed into the castle, but still very little answers that Cinderella could give.

  Every so often there could be heard a dull thud and shattering crash of loosed slate shingles, as a body would strike upon the roof and slid its way down the wet rooftop to the bloody mud ground below. Sometimes a body would snag, dangling awkwardly off a rooftop. And there had been at least one instance when a soldier’s remains crashed through a section of castle roof, causing not just a large hole but a partial collapse as several bodies that had fallen previously and weakened the roof broke through.

  Cinderella sat on her uncomfortable throne, her dress still stained from bloody rain, as panicked royal advisors and council members, staff and frightened villagers crowded around, trying desperately to figure out what to do. Rumors that people have been killed by the falling bodies murmured about, along with wails of doom and assurances that this was a curse brought by the beanstalk’s fall all added to the din. Many of the advisors were clustered around a table, piled with maps and drawings as they quarreled over possible defenses for the castle.

  Cinderella silently agreed that it was a curse brought by the beanstalk, one that had taken the prince, the king, and her love, Jack. Would the next body they found be that of Jack or the prince? she wondered grimly. She did not want to know the answer.

  Sitting on her throne, Cinderella slipped into a silence. Withdrawn, her thoughts were numb, her eyes were beyond tears and her heart was beyond feeling. She offered a slight, acknowledging nod affirming a request to collect the bodies of the fallen soldiers and pile them in the castle’s courtyard square.

  Then her attention was drawn to a growing disturbance near the door. Ignoring the sharp protests of Henry, the throne’s majordomo, Cinderella’s stepmother pushed her way through the crowd of advisors. By the time they had reach the throne steps, Henry, unable to stop the insistent intruder, scrambled to at least make a rushed formal announcement.

  “Announcing Princess, I mean… Queen Ella’s stepmother, the Maldame, to speak with the Queen Ella directly…”

  “ I’m here for you, my poor child, I came as soon as I heard,” the Maldame declared “despite the rudeness of your staff,” she shot a cool glance at Henry standing nearby, and he returned a defiant glare back at her. “A transgression which I’ll overlook in these desperate times,” she said dryly.

  “Stepmother!” Cinderella exclaimed her mood instantly brightened with a sigh of relief. “I am so very happy to see a familiar face!” Cinderella stood from her throne and stepped quickly to the Maldame, Giving her stepmother a lengthy hug, Perhaps it was the first such pleasant exchange the two had ever had. The Maldame offered the slightest of cordial hugs in response.

  “Queen Ella!” Henry exclaimed. “The queen does not hug!”

  Cinderella ignored him. “You are here to help me?” she asked almost in disbelief.

  “Of course,” the Maldame exclaimed almost too sweetly. “Jovette and Gael also. I have spent years trying to teach you duty and discipline, dear child,” the Maldame reminded her. “But it was only to prepare for you the tests and challenges the world would throw at you. You thought me cruel, I am sure. Testing times require strength and command, my dear. Already it seems that things are getting beyond your grasp.”

  “We’re doing everything we can to keep this under control,” Henry spoke up in defense of the castle and his staff. “How dare you insult my staff—”

  “Just until you can get your footing with all of this new power,” the Maldame continued to speak to the queen, cutting Henry off mid-sentence. “I will do my best to guide you, as I always have. We’ll do it together. And with my help and a little magic, we’ll get through this terrible time.”

  “Wonderful,” Cinderella exclaimed with a breath of relief. “You and the sisters are more than welcome to stay here for as long you’d like, Stepmother.”

  “Most generous, my Queen,” replied the Maldame, barely able to contain the smile that cracked across her leathery face. Everything was beginning to come together, she thought to herself.

  Henry was not above voicing an objection. “To what qualification does this woman have to just barge in to advise the throne?”

  “She is my stepmother!” Cinderella answered defensively. “She’ll know how to handle these matters.”

  CHAPTER 48

  TO SAVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  Marchenton, Present Day.

  The castle was quiet and still in the early morning as the night begrudgingly gave way to a brightening predawn sky; when the scouts on the walls sounded the horns in alarm. Dendroba’s eyes snapped open at the sound, barely realizing he had dozed off late into the night. Work and exhaustion had overtaken him at some point, he did not recall. But he awoke as he heard the horns. And by the time the horns sounded a second time, Dendroba was already running to the ramparts. They had done so the morning before, when Wonderland’s army arrived.

  “What now?” Dendroba wondered. “Are they marching on o
ur walls?”

  Dendroba caught his breath as he met the guard on watch on the wall.

  “What is it?” Dendroba growled, afraid of the answer.

  “The bloodthorns are gone!” The guard on watch announced, his own voice quivered with incredulousness, “disappeared!”

  “What!” Dendroba replied. “Impossible! Those bloodthorns don’t just disappear.”

  “They are not there, sir. I checked the whole perimeter of the castle. They are gone!”

  Dendroba glared at the guard on watch. This was not good news. The one major tactical advantage they had could not have just disappeared overnight. He leaned hard over the wall bracing his arms against the ramparts and strained to see in the early morning dimness. The familiar shape and darkened lumps of the bloodthorn wall were absent. Its familiar silhouette that Dendroba had gazed upon for the past five years was indeed nowhere to be found. And what was worse Dendroba realized in the dimness of the greying dawn, was that the Wonderland army was marching toward them.

  “Get me a lit torch, soldier, now!” Dendroba ordered gruffly as he reached back and held out his hand. Quickly the guard on watch grabbed the stubby remains of a nearby torch and in moments had it relit and handed it to it the General.

  Dendroba tossed the torch quickly over the wall. It fell straight to the ground in a spray of embers. In the torchlight below it was clear the mass of bloodthorns that had grown into a tall thorny wall of briar and covered the land around the castle, was gone.

  Dendroba strained to look closer.

  “Not gone…” He said. “Shrunk, nothing more than groundcover now and easily stepped over. Wonderland magic,” he growled.

  Dendroba turned to the guard, hardly wasting a second more. “Come, blow your horn. Sound general quarters! And prepare for battle. Wake the castle up! We are out of time!” He let out a long weary sigh. “It will either be a long day… or a very short one.”

  ***