Mirror, Mirror Page 11

  The windows were covered by heavy shutters, and a big wooden table dominated the middle of the room. The walls were lined with benches and counters, while above them tools hung from sturdy pegs, and at the far side of the building there was a wide stone sink. At first the room seemed to be empty, and Rosamund’s heart lurched. She clutched at the table for support for a moment, then as her resolution resurfaced she used the table to walk herself along the length of the room.

  When she reached the far end of the table she gasped, and relief flooded through her. There, in the corner of the room, sat the nursery maid, and in her arms slept Aurora and Day. A great trembling seized Rosamund, and tears burst out of her eyes. Though she tried to muffle the sound of her crying, the children stirred in their sleep and then awoke.

  They blinked sleepily for a moment or two, and then saw their mother, who had fallen to her knees before them, but who had her arms outstretched and waiting for them. Shouting with happiness and recognition, both of the children rushed out of their nurse’s arms and into their mother’s instead.

  Three pairs of cheeks were soon covered in joyful tears, and the cook’s and the nurse’s were a bit damp as well. Outside, the wind must have picked up and blown some of the clouds away, for rays of sun began shining through cracks in the shutters, as if the day itself wanted to smile upon the happy scene. The children recovered first, wanting to pull away and start telling their mother about all of their adventures, and Rosamund let them talk, contenting herself with beaming upon them as she listened, occasionally stroking their hair or pulling them in for yet another hug.

  This recital was abruptly interrupted by a choking sound from behind them, and Rosamund turned to see the cook being pulled violently through the door by his collar. A heartbeat later his place at the door was taken by one of the queen’s guards, who had heard the children shouting and had been drawn to investigate.

  The guard stood in the doorway for a long moment, and for the briefest flash of time Rosamund allowed herself to hope that he would not come any further into the building. She knew that this part of the floor could not be seen from the doorway, for the table blocked the view. If the guard would just stay where he was, Rosamund prayed silently, all might still be well…

  Confused by the sudden silence, Aurora tugged on Rosamund’s sleeve and said, “Mama?”

  Rosamund closed her eyes briefly as her flash of hope disappeared, then opened them again as she heard the sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor. Looking up, she could see one of the queen’s guards standing before them, staring at their little group with a grim expression. Even as she gathered her children closer to her, a corner of Rosamund’s mind found time to note that from where he stood, the guard was blocking out what little sun had been leaking through the window.

  * * *

  Randolph strode down the hallway furiously, sending angry questions back over his shoulder at the hapless steward who trailed after him.

  “How could you let them go like that? How could you possibly think that I wouldn’t have come in person on such an errand?”

  “Your majesty, it really wasn’t my place to object…” the steward tried to say, but he was ignored.

  “Letting some strangers come and carry my wife and children off to who knows where - which is another thing! How could you not even ask where they were going?” Randolph demanded, though he did not wait for an answer.

  Turning sharply, he jerked open the door to his wife’s room and went inside. The steward hastened forward to draw back the curtains, and light flooded in. Randolph looked around impatiently, not certain of what he was even looking for. He opened cupboards and pulled out drawers, seeking some clue as to his wife’s whereabouts.

  Eventually, he sat down at his wife’s desk and opened it. Lying there in the middle of the blotter was a closely-written letter, which in her hurry Rosamund had not remembered to put away. Seeing his own name at the bottom of the page, Randolph snatched up the letter and began reading it, growing paler as he did so.

  The handwriting had been poorly disguised, and he recognized it immediately. Before he had even finished reading, Randolph called for his horse and began heading towards the front door.

  “But you only just arrived,” the steward was protesting at his side. “Do you not wish to stay for at least a meal before you depart again? I am sure that the princess would want you to do so, if she knew you were here.”

  “And I am equally certain that if the princess knew I was here that she would want me to even now be upon the road again, and hastening to her side,” Randolph answered grimly.

  The steward halted for half a step, then hurried to catch up again. “But surely - she is surely not in danger, your majesty?”

  Randolph gave a harsh chuckle and increased his pace. He did not answer the steward, for his thoughts were too full of fury and fear to admit of further conversation. One thing he was certain of - his stepmother would pay for whatever she had done.

  * * *

  The queen paced back and forth in front of her small audience. The princess, looking as pale as dawn’s light, was clutching her children to her and clearly trying not to whimper. Two guards stood on either side of the little family, and another guard stood in front of them, with a spear point pressing into the back of the treasonous cook, who knelt before him.

  All eyes were fastened on the queen as she paced. The guards had just informed her of the cook‘s traitorous deception, and had brought the princess and children out as living proof of the man’s guilt. Eugenia was almost too angry for words. Almost, but not quite.

  “Traitor, fiend, coward!” she screamed at the cook, spinning around to glare at him. “How dare you! How dare you betray me in such a way!” Turning to the guard holding the spear, she then said with a vicious resumption of calm, “Take him out back and execute him.”

  The guard, who was not the brightest of his peers, hesitated and said, “But, this is out back, your majesty.”

  “Then take him out front!” the queen screamed, abandoning any appearance of control, and almost spitting in fury. “Get him out of my sight! I don’t want to see him!”

  The guard hastily pulled the cook to his feet and began dragging him off and out of sight around the corner of the house. Eugenia turned back to the rest of her audience and narrowed her gaze on Randolph’s pitiful princess. She heaved a great breath, forcing herself to think clearly. One thought alone was clear. No matter what else, Randolph must be punished- and so his family must be made to suffer.

  It would not be enough to cast them down and have them executed simply and quickly. A strange apprehension had begun to form in the queen’s mind however, and she did not want to risk drawing their deaths out too far, for fear that something would once again intervene to safe them. No, their deaths would have to be quick, she realized - but they did not have to be painless.

  “You there,” Eugenia said suddenly, pointing at one of the guards. “Go inside, and bring me the casket that sits on the pedestal in my chambers.”

  The guard went without question, and for the next few minutes silence reigned. The queen stared at the princess with a bitter gaze, the princess stared at the tops of her children’s heads while occasionally sending imploring glances at the guards, and the guards themselves fidgeted and did not dare to meet the eyes of either woman.

  The silence was abruptly broken by Day, who began to cry. Rosamund knelt to soothe him, but the child had grown afraid and now refused to be quieted. Seconds later Aurora too began to whimper, and then to cry outright.

  Irritated, Eugenia began pacing again, eventually telling the princess that if she couldn’t shut those children up that it would be done for her. The queen was quickly distracted however, as the guard returned from the house, bearing a small, lacquered casket gingerly in his hands. The queen took it from him eagerly. She peered inside, then gave a satisfied smile.

  “You - child,” Eugenia said intently. “Day, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to see what I h
ave in this box?”

  Day’s cries began to fade, and his small face took on an expression of great curiosity. He tried to move forward, but the princess stopped him and pulled him back. “No, Day, no. Stay with Mama,” she said.

  Eugenia laughed. “What about you, Aurora? Don’t you want to see what’s in the box?”

  Aurora looked at the queen suspiciously, then buried her face in her mother’s side. The queen laughed again, turning back towards Day.

  “Don’t you want to know?” she asked. The boy wriggled in his mother’s hold, but couldn’t quite get away. He demanded to know what was in the casket, and Eugenia moved a little closer to him, holding the casket out in front of her.

  “It’s a snake,” the queen said enticingly. The boy’s eyes lit with excitement, and Eugenia chuckled. She gave the casket a sharp rattle, and held it out again.

  Day broke away from his mother’s grasp and lunged forward, reaching the casket just as his mother cried, “No!”

  * * *

  Randolph galloped up the length of the drive, scattering sprays of gravel in his wake. Behind him rode a dozen of his most trusted men, who had all proven themselves time and time again in the northern war. He did not know what to expect at his stepmother’s house, but he was taking no chances.

  The tree-lined avenue widened abruptly, revealing a long, low hunting lodge set in a small glen. Randolph rode straight up to the building, reining in sharply when he reached the door. He dismounted swiftly, and pounded on the door.

  His summons was answered by a blade wielded by an armored man who appeared out of the shadows near the door, which Randolph met with a drawn blade of his own. Before most of his men had even had a chance to dismount, the battle had begun.

  * * *

  With a burst of strength that she didn’t know she had, Rosamund lunged forward and pushed her son away from the casket. The guards had begun looking over their shoulders some minutes before towards the sounds of clattering and shouting coming from the other side of the house, and they were not in time to stop her.

  The queen reeled back slightly at the sudden movement. She tried to open the box, but did not have time before the princess had grabbed hold of it, though she managed to not lose her own grip. Rosamund struggled with her valiantly, trying to wrest the box away, but succeeded only in keeping it closed.

  “Seize her!” the queen cried loudly. Instead of obeying however, the guard captain ordered his men to investigate the source of the commotion on the other side of the house, with only a curt apology for the delay addressed to the queen. The queen gave a small scream of frustration, and took one hand off the casket to swing a blow towards Rosamund’s head.

  The blow landed badly, just above Rosamund’s ear, but it was still enough to send Rosamund to her knees. Through some miracle however, she managed to keep hold of the casket, and the force of her falling brought the queen to the ground as well. As the shouting increased in volume behind them, the queen and the princess fought each other with fists and nails and teeth.

  Eugenia was a strong woman in any circumstances, and Rosamund was still only a very weak one after the deprivations she had suffered. From the beginning of the struggle both of them had believed that Eugenia would win - though one held that belief with glee and the other with despair.

  Desperation and panic had lent a certain amount of strength to Rosamund at the start, but that strength was fading quickly. The queen was unrelenting in her attacks upon Rosamund, and within moments the casket lay forgotten on the ground as Eugenia simply sent blow after blow at Rosamund‘s head and body.

  The queen had managed to get to a half-kneeling position, and was striking at Rosamund from above, but the pain of this was nothing compared to the fear Rosamund felt when she saw Aurora and Day suddenly launch themselves at the queen’s back. The queen screamed in surprise and shock as she found herself abruptly knocked over, with her shins being kicked and her hair being pulled by two miniature hellions.

  Though she couldn’t help but be grateful for the interruption, Rosamund flung herself forward and pulled her children off the queen, saying urgently, “Run!”

  The two children hesitated, but they recognized the tone that their mother had used, and after a moment they turned and began to run. They ran and ran, as quickly as their little legs could carry them, and halfway across the yard their running led them straight into their father.

  There was the briefest of hugs, and an order to stay put, then their father was gone again, on his way to their mother. Looking around, the children found themselves once again surrounded by guards, although these all looked much more friendly than the others. There was a brief argument between the siblings about what to do next, for one parent had told them to run while the other had told them to stay. Fortunately this decision was taken away from them by the arrival of the nurse, who had been hastily released, and who assured them both that there would be milk and cakes later if they stayed where they were.

  On the other side of the yard, Rosamund was still struggling with the queen, and had not noticed that the shouting and clattering had stopped. With the last of her strength disappearing, she collapsed backwards onto the ground and lay there limply, waiting for the final blow to come crashing down upon her.

  It didn’t come. Instead, a hand reached out and gently stroked her hair. Rosamund opened her eyes and saw Randolph kneeling over her. For a confused moment she feared that she had either died or finally lost her mind, but then she saw the casket lying on the ground behind Randolph. Behind the casket was the queen, sprawled out on the ground where Randolph had thrown her.

  “Randolph?” she asked wonderingly, her hand reaching up to touch his face. Until she felt the rough stubble of his beard under her fingers, she didn’t let herself believe that he was really there. “What are you doing here?”

  Randolph gave her a crooked smile. “Rescuing you, I suppose,” he said, before giving a giddy kind of laugh and helping her to her feet. “And it looks like I got here just in time.”

  For several minutes Randolph and Rosamund stood there, holding each other’s hands and oblivious to the rest of the world. Randolph told Rosamund his own story, of how he had found the forged letter and guessed that his stepmother had meant to bring her here. He told her how he and his men had overcome the queen’s mercenaries, and how half of the queen’s men had offered to switch sides as soon as they saw which way the wind was blowing. He told her about his fears and his worries, and teasingly scolded her for not waiting for him like he told her to.

  When he asked her what had happened to her, and to the children, she could only shudder and implore him to not ask her yet, as she was not ready to face it again, even in memory. Randolph frowned and would have tried to find out more, but he was interrupted by one of his men, who came over to say that the dowager queen was dead.

  The news was so unexpected that both Randolph and Rosamund turned to stare at the guard, before swinging around to look at the place where the queen had last been seen. The patch of ground was now empty, and Rosamund noticed that the casket was gone. Turning back to the guard, Randolph demanded to know what had happened.

  Spreading his hands in a gesture of innocence, the man disclaimed any involvement, but offered to fetch the group of guards who claimed to have seen what happened. Randolph gave his consent impatiently, and a few minutes later there were half a dozen men in front of the royal couple, each with a slightly different version of the story.

  From what Randolph and Rosamund were able to piece together, the queen had seen that all was lost, for her mercenaries were all either dead or turncoats, and the yard was swarming with Randolph’s men. She had broken away from the guard who had been told to keep an eye on her, and had snatched up the casket as she did so.

  Then, the guards all agreed, she had taken a snake out of the casket. Nothing happened at first, because the snake was either some kind of pet or under a spell - opinions varied greatly on this point, and it was some minutes before Ran
dolph could get the guards to continue their story - but then the queen bit the snake, which quite naturally bit her back. And then, the guards concluded, she fell over, dead.

  Once again Rosamund began trembling uncontrollably, and Randolph held her tightly for several minutes. After awhile he convinced her to go inside, and seeing that she was in no condition to walk, he swept her into his arms and began carrying her towards the house.

  “Don’t worry, darling,” he said over her half-hearted protests. “We’ll get you inside for a rest, and maybe a bath. Then what you need is a good meal. You’ll see, it’ll make all the difference in the world.”

  “Yes, dear,” Rosamund murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. The anxiety and fear was finally beginning to slip away from her, and she was exhausted. Randolph however was still talking, planning the meal that was to so quickly restore her.

  “And was that a deer I saw the cook taking into the house a minute ago? Venison sounds very good, don’t you think?” she heard him ask.

  “No, darling,” Rosamund replied firmly. “We are not eating that deer.”

  * * *

  Rosamund was soon returned to health, and was even sooner returned to happiness, for she once again had her entire family around her, alive and well. The whole terrible story of the queen’s cruelty was eventually told to Randolph, who as a result could not even pretend to be mournful at the state funeral that was held some days later for the late, departed queen. His expression of grim resolve was enough for most people however, as they could easily convince themselves that he was simply being stoic.

  It had been decided, between Randolph and Rosamund, that the story of Eugenia’s crimes would not be made public. Instead, a rumor was purposefully started, saying that she had missed her husband the late king Aldrich so much that she had taken her own life rather than be without him. Few people believed the story of course, but it made for some interesting conversations at the funeral reception.

  King Felix was naturally among the guests in attendance at the funeral, but any concerns Randolph may have had in introducing him to Rosamund were swiftly proven to be unjustified. No sooner had they been introduced then Felix greeted Rosamund with, quite literally, open arms - embracing her fondly as a long, lost cousin - or great-great aunt, as the case may be. As soon as the connection was explained to Rosamund, she returned his embrace, and was honestly delighted to have another family member to claim for herself, however distantly related.