We Three Queens

by Jon Jacks

  Having seen the forces gathering against them on the game board, Helen understood the empress’s disdain for the archer’s vain attempt at evening the odds – yet it at least helped reassure the men that they retained some control over their situation.

  The swirling snow parted urgently as the Optio charged towards them, riding back through the stationary column from his usual place at its head, his red cloak flowing out behind him like spilled blood.

  The horse’s eyes, however, where as white and globular as snowballs, her rider struggling to bring her to a halt. She would quite obviously have preferred to continue her frenzied dash away from the column’s head. She breathed heavily, clouds of hot moisture emanating from flaring nostrils.

  ‘My lady, there’s…’

  The Optio grimaced, unable to come up with the right words to describe why he had brought the column to a halt.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ the empress said helpfully, fully realising his reticence to describe what he’d seen, ‘I’ll come along.’

  ‘My lady, I’m not sure that’s wise, for it–’

  The empress raised a hand to silence his protestations.

  ‘I’ll be fine, Optio, I assure you! I presume you haven’t ordered anyone to attack…this blockage?’

  Like the Optio, the empress didn’t want to panic those standing around them by accurately describing what lay in their way.

  ‘I thought it best not to…aggravate it.’

  ‘Good,’ the empress replied, pleased that no one had been foolish enough to try and take on this otherworld creature. ‘I’d like to observe it for myself, however.’

  She strode out past the halted carriages and their curious occupants, indicating once again that Helen should walk with her. Helen had to skip and make a little jump to catch up with the empress who, despite her impressive age, was even more impressively and unnaturally sprightly.

  Was it, Helen wondered distrustfully, due to her ability to access the powers of the darkness?

  If Helen had ever had any doubts about just how powerful that darkness could be, they vanished as they neared the head of the column. Her misgivings, however, were abruptly magnified.

  The darkness was total here, as if what little light of the sun that penetrated the snow had been completely quenched.

  Yet even more astonishingly, the snow itself was no longer white, but entirely black.

  *

  The edginess of the men and horses increased the farther the empress and Helen made their way up the column.

  The men muttered fearfully amongst each other, failing to mute their complaints even as the empress made her way through them.

  They shivered, but not from the freezing cold alone.

  They grasped nervously at spears, at shields; at their hearts.

  Out in the darkness, the wolves could now be heard howling. Yet their wails were full of lament, as if they, too, feared the complete lack of light.

  There was not even any moon to direct their wailing grievances at.

  The armour of the men glinted a little here and there, yet only from the light that lay far behind them. Some of the men, Helen saw, had attempted to light lanterns; but even these appeared to have had all their brightness sucked from them, the flames little more than rose petals flicking in a light breeze.

  ‘Wait here,’ the empress ordered her men, some of them hesitantly stepping out of line to protectively accompany her as she headed deeper into the darkness.

  The order was not directed at Helen, however.

  Once again, the empress indicated that the young girl must follow her into the darkness.

  Everything within Helen screamed at her that she should refuse: her heart beat wildly, her lungs abruptly seemed devoid of air; her throat constricted, painfully, tightly; her blood rushed around her body, her brain near exploding with the sudden increase in pressure behind her eyes; her muscles tensed, her bones ached, stiffened, as if refusing to move.

  This darkness wasn’t a normal darkness in any sense.

  She felt it rippling over her skin, oil-like in its touch. It beat with a steady rhythm, as if alive, possessing its own deeply drumming heart. It swelled and ebbed, as if breathing.

  The farther they stepped into the darkness, the darker it seemed to become, such that when Helen fearfully glanced over her shoulder, looking back the way they had come, there was now very little light even there. The column of men, horses and carriages stretching out from the edges of the cloud of oily darkness appeared from here to be entirely enveloped in an evening’s swiftly darkening sky.

  The surrounding darkness now pummelled her, drawing her attention back to the thickening blackness they were heading into, the blows like those of an increasingly fierce wind. The darkness swirled, much as snow whirls in gusts, but here the flakes were of a deep, pure black.

  Somewhere from within that blindness there came the regular thrumming of vast wings, of feasibly innumerable wings. The textures of uncountable feathers were just visible if one looked extremely closely, ridiculously intently: and having formed this image in your mind, following the idea of these wings back to a central point, it was at last possible to define the darkness as a colossal creature seated astride what must have once been the pathway.

  ‘You? Was it you that called me?’ the Angel of Death demanded angrily.

  *

  Chapter 15

  ‘No, not me,’ the empress calmly replied, craning her neck right back, looking up as if trying to distinguish the point where the very top of a looming tower faded into the night.

  Helen could just make the empress out in this darkness, a dim sheen now bathing her, the merest shadow of light coming from high above; emanating from two glowering eyes, a snarling mouth.

  ‘Who then? Who would call me?’

  ‘One who seems to have acquired more powers than I believed possible.’

  ‘What does she request from me? She gave me no commands, other than that I should wait awhile.’

  ‘A while?’

  ‘A while for me, as you know, is a great time in your realm.’

  ‘Then; I assure you, we will make no attempt to pass.’

  ‘That is wise. Then you can wait?’

  The empress shook her head.

  ‘Not for as long as “a while” takes in your realm.’

  The angel shrugged.

  ‘I did wonder.’

  ‘We can go around you: I take it, if you have received no commands, that you won’t make any other attempt to block our passage?’

  ‘I think I’ve already done far more than I should, don’t you?’

  ‘I agree; far, far more than anyone should realistically expect of you.’

  The angel nodded sagely in response to the empress’s comment.

  ‘I’m glad someone understands our relative positions!’

  He bent forward a little, stretching out to look over a column that still seemed to be lying in darkness, frowning in the manner of someone trying to work something out.

  ‘What…what do you carry there?’

  Without glancing back over her shoulder, the empress replied confidently, suggesting she knew what the angel must have detected hidden amongst the carriages.

  ‘It’s the cross: the True Cross.’

  Helen almost jumped with a start at this admission: she knew, of course, that Mary had told the truth when she had claimed that the empress had stolen the cross, yet she was still surprised that the thief had openly proclaimed her guilt while she was standing alongside her.

  No doubt the empress realised it wouldn’t be wise to lie to the Angel of Death.

  ‘Hmn, interesting,’ the angel mused. ‘No wonder someone called me up to try and stop your passage.’

  ‘Then…you will let us pass?’ the empress asked hopefully.

  The angel shook his head sadly.

  ‘No…I have to wait here…a while.’

  ‘I understand,’ the empress said with a slight nod of her head. ‘Then we will lea
ve you to ponder your dilemma.’

  The angel replied with a gentle nod of his own head, along with an amused grin.

  ‘I’m glad someone understands that it is indeed a dilemma I face!’

  *

  A wolf drew closer, his eyes warily focused upon the angel, his steps hesitant.

  He took one step too many: and instantly flopped to the ground, all life immediately sucked out of him.

  The angel shook his head, amazed at such foolishness.

  ‘Obviously,’ the empress said, having seen what had happen to the wolf, ‘she isn’t yet fully aware of your nature.’

  ‘Indeed,’ the angel agreed, ‘what other explanation could there be for her arrogance in seeking my help?’

  ‘Even so,’ the empress said, chuckling bitterly, ‘she seems far from ready to earn her place in the Box of Fools!’

  The angel briefly laughed along with her.

  ‘She sees your time is waning,’ he said wisely. ‘She’s simply beginning to claim – earlier than she should be, admittedly – what she sees as rightfully hers.’

  ‘She learns quickly.’

  With a scowl of agreement, the angel let his cold gaze suddenly fall upon Helen.

  ‘And what of your own apprentice?’ he asked.

  Apprentice? Helen was scandalised that the angel had used such a dreadful term.

  Is that what she was regarded as being?

  An apprentice in accessing the powers of darkness?

  ‘She too learns quickly–’

  ‘I mean…do you trust her?’

  The empress hesitated, before replying honestly.

  ‘I did.’

  The angel laughed mischievously as the empress apologetically glanced Helen’s way.

  ‘You know, I think she really was surprised by…your honesty, if not your answer.’

  Helen did indeed appear shocked by the empress’s admission, her expression perhaps even one of anguished injury.

  ‘It isn’t wise to tell a lie when standing before the Angel of Death,’ the empress said coolly.

  ‘So…do you wish to ask anything of your apprentice, while she stands before me?’

  Helen realised that the angel was giving the empress the opportunity to discover exactly how the trust between them had been destroyed.

  The empress continued to look Helen’s way, her own eyes now also full of an anguished sadness.

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No, I don’t.’

  *

  Chapter 16

  They had no choice but to turn away from the river they had been following, heading out across what was undoubtedly more arduous going.

  They had left behind every carriage but one, along with those people who weren’t necessary for the safety of the column. The empress had assured them they had nothing to fear from the angel unless they made the mistake of drawing closer, while the wolves would also leave them alone, as their appointed task was to follow the column.

  As the empress had promised, the wolves did indeed stay with the column, dark shapes amongst the snow, running silently along its flanks. They ensured that the column had no choice but to continue heading for higher ground, the wolves preventing them from swinging to one side and re-joining their original course at a point where the angel could have no effect upon them.

  The baby Magnus, along with his nursemaid, had been moved to the carriage containing the True Cross. Even the empress’s coach had been left behind, such that both she and Helen had been given horses to ride.

  As they rode together through the fiercely swirling snow, their heads down despite the shawls they had wrapped around their faces, the leader of the men Helen had brought with her trotted alongside, lamenting their change of course as he warily eyed the shadowing wolves.

  ‘They’re keeping us from the very place where we could easily see them off: we’d prepared defences earlier at Constantinople–’

  ‘Constantinople?’ Naturally, the empress recognised the inclusion of her son’s name within the hamlet’s name.

  ‘Father re-named it in honour of your visit,’ Helen explained, ‘just as he intends to rename the river we had been following: Afon Bannon – River of the Empress.’

  ‘That is indeed an honour, and when I see you father I must thank him personally,’ the empress replied, adding, ‘The preparation of defences there also explains why our journey towards them has been deliberately blocked; the wolves mean to attack soon.’

  ‘I could send messages to the king that we require more warriors,’ the men’s leader offered.

  Helen sensed a bitter resentment flooding through her as her father’s man made this proposal. Why should her father’s men be sacrificed simply to help this woman steal such a priceless treasure? Yet she also realised she was being unfair: her father had ordered the man to ensure the safety not only of her but also of the empress and her charges.

  She had, of course, considered ordering her father’s men to wrest control of the column from the empress’s legionaries: but even under normal circumstances, such a mutiny wouldn’t be assured of success, while the empress’s ability to call up the dark arts meant it could only end in the unnecessary deaths of these men. Besides, how would she persuade her men to desert the empress anyway, when they had sworn to protect her?

  ‘Your king is busy, I’ve heard,’ the empress said in response to the soldier’s offer. ‘No matter: we have more than enough men and arms to deal with any attack. But you should warn your men to stay alert and make sure they don’t let the wolves slip amongst us as we struggle against the snow!’

  With a nod of obedience, the leader peeled his mount aside, placing his horse into a slight gallop as he rode off into the thickly veiling snow.

  ‘Why did you turn down the offer of more men?’ Helen asked the empress curiously, remembering their earlier discussion about the possible need for reinforcements. ‘Do you think the angels will be enough to protect us?’

  The empress shock her head miserably in reply.

  ‘As I’ve said before, the angels will expect us to show a willingness to fight our own battles. And as for the question of the use of extra men, well…’

  She paused, as if reflecting on the wisdom of saying too much.

  ‘Well,’ she said determinedly, ‘as it seems Fausta has more power than I’d allowed for, the more men we gather here can now only make our situation worse.’

  *

  Chapter 17

  It was such an odd thing to say: ‘the more men we gather here can now only make our situation worse.’

  How could that possibly be true?

  The empress hadn’t made any attempt to explain further: rather, she’d peeled away from riding alongside Helen, much as the solider had done only moments before.

  Ostensibly, she wanted to check up on the admittedly laborious progress of the carriage, yet Helen couldn’t help but think it had been nothing more than an excuse to ensure the empress couldn’t be persuaded to divulge any more information: as if the empress felt she’d already said too much, or more than she’d originally intended at least.

  Helen was tired of having to constantly try and work these things out for herself. The cold, when out on a horse as opposed to being inside a relatively warmer carriage, was far more bitter than she had realised, something she felt deeply ashamed of as she would normally have ridden with her men. The thick woollen cloak only kept out so much of the freezing wind, while it was already soaked with melted snow, such that it lay heavily across her shoulders.

  The thick shawl around her face naturally failed to protect her eyes, her vision blurring as they watered, as the tears froze in pearl-like droplets across her eyelashes.

  She just wanted the steady rocking of her mount to send her to sleep for a while.

  *

  Mary was riding alongside her on a donkey.

  And cradled within her arms, tightly wrapped in swaddling clothes, was the Christ Child.

  Mary glanced Helen’s way, smi
led lovingly.

  ‘I’m Mary the Mother, the Loving and Nurturing Myrrhbearer: for like this, he appears innocent enough,’ she said, indicating the child in her arms as she began to pull back his covering, ‘and yet how will he be if raised badly, especially as the blood runs so deep?’

  It wasn’t the Christ Child in her arms after all, but the empress’s grandson Magnus: Helen recognised the richness of his garments.

  She was about to express fear for the child being left uncovered in this weather, but they were abruptly reasonably warm and out of the wind, suddenly appearing within the interior of the carriage.

  The nursemaid was dozing, despite the violent rocking of the carriage as it cumbersomely snagged again and again on the stones it was travelling over. Magnus too was fast asleep, as usual (causing Helen to wonder what sort of spell the empress might have placed him under), as well as being back in his crib.

  The game board had also been placed within this carriage, its pieces all firmly locked into place. The positions and forms of the pieces, however, had changed considerably since Helen had last seen the game. And, most worryingly of all, the pieces of her own set had moved and changed, a sign that she had been unintentionally accessing the powers even as she tried to resist it.

  The game, the darkness, was sucking her into its orbit.

  ‘Take a closer look at the game,’ Mary said calmly, ‘and you will learn something.’

  Helen was at first surprised by Mary’s invite to learn something from the game, this game of the dark arts: but then Mary pointed to the crows represented hovering alongside the empress’s set, declaring adamantly, ‘This is not a piece of Fausta’s, as you might suppose, but one of the old empress’s.’

  Helen grimaced in confusion.

  ‘Why would the empress terrify her own men? It makes no sense!’

  ‘And this?’ Ignoring the questions, Mary indicated a piece in the form of whirling snow storms curling over a number of squares. ‘Again, under the empress’s control!’