by Sohan Ahmad
Meanwhile, in the dining hall, the two slaves began setting the long winding table. Archonis stood nearby, with a handful of his silver-crimson knights, watching every movement within the vast space. “Boys!” he called out as he approached the pair, “keep your eyes open tonight. Soon enough, many clever men will swarm our home. I shall entrust the prince’s protection to you. Prove worthy of my faith.”
The two slaves bowed. “Yes Commander!”
Geno added, “We won’t fail you, Master Archonis.”
The white of his beard lifted as Archonis smiled. “I believe you. Now go on, I have much to do as well.”
As the two slaves made for the kitchen, he commanded his men into place. One among the Serpent Council slithered in from behind. “Greetings, Commander Paladin. Let me be the first to commend you for the safe return of His Holiness. I understand that even in these times of peace, Chronos can be quite a danger to our kind. You should be rewarded.”
Archonis responded, “Greetings, Councilman. I have no need for praise. The protection of Elijah’s blood is my honor and joy. I suspect that any Isirian would do no less in my place.”
Cyrus was still close and could not help but notice the conversation. He seems oddly familiar. Who is he? His skin crawled with an eerie shiver as he laid eyes on the lord’s pale damp skin and slanted lids. However, there was too much to do. He had little time to sate needless curiosities.
Upstairs, Marcus arrived at Diana’s side in a tremble as he pulled a chair toward her bed. He rested his troubled head on her thinning stomach, transported to an infantile haven where the comfort of a mother’s presence silenced all fear and doubt. “Marcus?” She asked, waking with a rising pitch in her words and shortened breath in her chest. “What is the matter, darling?” Her senses returned with each stroke of his soft strawberry strands.
Marcus gazed up into her half-glazed eyes with his own. “Mother, do I disappoint you?” he asked with a whimper.
Despite her relentless ache, Diana sat up and told her slaves to leave the room. Caressing her son’s forehead, she answered, “Dear, your father and I love you with everything in our hearts; you are our only son. My only disappointment is not giving you a little brother or sister with whom to share life. Who put such heinous thoughts in your head?”
“But I have Cyrus,” the prince replied, nearly forgetting the reason he had come.
Queen Diana erupted. “I don’t ever want to hear you call that thing your brother again!” It did not matter how her words affected him. “That bastard lives here only by the good graces of your father. If that whore Isa had not seduced him, I would never have allowed such a disgrace.”
“It isn’t his fault for being born,” Marcus retorted. “He’s my brother, and our bond is stronger than any I have in this world.”
Queen Diana could stomach no more of his rant. “Are you closer to Cyrus than you are to your father?” She asked, pain shooting through every sliver of muscle in her body as she clutched at his arms. “Are you closer to him than you are to your own mother?”
Marcus searched for an answer. “I love you, Mother, but I love him too. Why can’t I do both?” When none presented itself, he began to sob.
Diana reached out to squeeze Marcus within her slender arms. “Hush, do not cry, my son,” she whispered. “Forgive your mother’s temper. The medicine makes it difficult to control my emotions. Now, wipe those tears, my darling little boy, and tell your mother who put such poisonous thoughts in your head, so I can make everything better.”
The young prince cried into her bosom for minutes, it seemed, before answering. “I was playing in the supply hold earlier, and I overheard Father forcing himself upon Isa. He told her he needed more heirs.”
Diana said nothing. She held her child with an unyielding grip to absorb every ounce of pain from his young heart. “Darling, I need you to fetch Isa,” the Slithering Queen told him with a kiss. “Go now. Tell no one of what you heard, not even your father. Not until I have had a chance to learn the truth.” Releasing Marcus with a smile, she wiped his tears. “Worry not, my little angel. Soon everything will be as it should. Now go, before the remaining guests arrive.”
“Yes Mother,” he replied, departing atop hurried feet. The prince returned to the dining hall just minutes before the feast’s commencement, spotting his slave brother by the bottom of the spiraled steps. “Cyrus, where is Aunt Isa. Mother needs to speak to her right away.”
“Brother, you’re a mess,” Cyrus said. With one hand, pinched the corners of his brother’s tunic, pulling up the fabric as the other hand flattened the wrinkles. “Stay here with Geno, dinner is about to begin. I will find Mother and send her to the queen.”
Marcus did just that, standing by the Drake’s side with a grin across his face, which drew Geno’s curious glance. The Prince seems to be himself again.
Cyrus, meanwhile, returned to his bedchambers to find a trembling and tearful Isa. “Mother, what has happened? Are you hurt?” he asked with a troubled look on his face. Is this because of Father?
Isa could not bear the thought of burdening her son. “Dearest, these are simple tears of joy. I am just so happy to be home.” Answering instead with as quick a lie as she could conceive.
You can tell me, Mother. It’s okay. The boy knew, but although he wished to dig deeper, too many guests required attendance. He shelved concerns for the time being. “The queen summons you.”
Isa collected herself. “Thank you, darling, I must not make her wait, then.” She gave her son a kiss on the forehead and made for the royal chambers.
When she glided past him, Cyrus grabbed her waist from behind, laying his forehead against her lower back, whispering, “Mother, it is okay to tell me if you are sad. There’s no need to hold onto your burdens alone. I’ll always be here for you and always protect you, so please stop hiding from me. I can’t bear to watch you suffer.”
She froze. What a horrible creature I am. Isa turned, knelt down to her knees, and kissed his hands. Smiling into his eyes, she told him, “I am eternally thankful to be mother to such a caring son. Please do not fret over me, my love. I promise that everything is fine. Return to your duties.”
Cyrus could not stop the red from rising within his cheeks. “Yes, Mother,” he said, though his words were far from true. I will wait for you atop the stairs.
Isa completed the climb toward Diana’s side. “I am here, my lady. Apologies for the delay.” She entered to see the queen on her feet. “Queen Diana!”
Isa hurried toward her master, but Diana, who stared out through the window. “Isa, pour me a cup of wine,” the queen requested. “I feel wonderful and wish to share a toast with my most trusted slave.”
Isa thought the comment odd. Not once in all these years has she made such a gracious gesture. Still, she replied, “My lady, you honor me greatly, but I am unworthy to partake in such luxury, especially with one as heavenly as Your Holiness.”
Diana responded with a smile, concealing a twitch in her clenched fist: “Forget such thoughts. Do not spoil the mood; share a drink with me as a woman and mother. There is no need for formalities in the absence of an audience.”
I’d best not refuse a second time. As Isa poured the red liquid, the tremble in her hands slowly faded. She does seem much better than usual. How much harm can one cup do? Isa convinced herself.
The Slithering Queen accepted the cup and shared a toast with her slave, swallowing the entirety of her cup while Isa chose only to sip. “Don’t tell me this is your first time, Isa?” Diana asked before pouring herself another.
“No, my lady,” Isa answered. “This is only my third. I don’t take well to wine. Please forgive me.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the wine,” Diana mocked, slurping down her second cup as Isa did her best to keep up. “Come chat with me for a moment.”
A second cup so soon? The slave worried, hesitantly taking a seat beside her queen. I wonder what has caused such a sudden change in my
lady. “Of course, Your Holiness. What do you wish to discuss?”
“Oh, nothing in particular,” Diana answered. “I am simply curious as to whether you love your Cardinal, and if I could trust your loyalty to the crown. Given recent events, my heart grows concerned about the safety of our people and lands.”
“Of course, my lady!” Isa answered, putting her cup aside. “I am forever grateful to you both for allowing us to live within the castle. Please trust that my loyalty is and shall always be with the crown for as long as your family lives.”
Diana cackled, “I am sorry, I cannot keep up this farce.” Her cheeks throbbed as if she had heard the most amusing of jests. “Do you believe me to be a fool, slave? I may be ill, but I am neither deaf nor dumb to the events that transpire within my walls.”
The queen continued to fill her venomous throat with crimson water as Isa’s heart trembled. Has Lady Diana finally discovered the truth? “My lady, I would never dare to question your wisdom, but I am confused. Have I done something to offend?” If I confess, I am as good as dead. My word means nothing to her.
“No, I suppose you would not dare to question my wisdom,” the royal mother answered, her rage smoldering with every deceitful word. “But you seem content to insult my intelligence. Yes, you have done something to offend; your very existence is an offense upon me—upon my house! It sickens me to be served all these years by the whore who seduced my beloved. You have violated my trust, and you violate my husband with the grotesque filth between your legs. Does it bring you pleasure, defiling everything I love?” she asked. “Was one bastard not enough for you? You just had to have more, didn’t you?”
Isa could hear only thunder, crackling through the chamber in the guise of words. “Please, my queen, it is not what you think,” she answered, doing her best to take shelter from the coming storm. “I swear to you that I would never do anything to harm your family by choice. My love for the prince rivals that for my own son. You must believe me when I say that I have been stripped of all choice,” she pleaded to her queen on hands and knees, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I begged His Holiness to stop, but he would not. He wished for a red-haired heir in case anything happened to the prince. The continued attempts on his life have blinded him to reason. Diana, please, as a mother and a woman, I beg that you understand. I am innocent of what you speak.”
At that moment, the Slithering Queen, drunk with wrath and wine, smashed her glass into Isa’s flawless, milky cheek. “How dare you try to deceive me with lies and sully my husband’s name? she asked, stabbing her slave with one of the shattered shards. “Your deceptive tongue and poisonous body may have worked on him, but it will never work on me, you whore!” Isa tried to crawl to safety, but every thrust invigorated Diana. “This country has no need of vermin like you and your offspring. Die with the knowledge that your death will not be the last.”
The Slithering Queen hissed into the poor slave’s ear as blood soaked her rags, “I will reunite you with your demon spawn, but his death will not be quick. Before I take his life and because I am so kind, I will care for your boy until his last days—he will want for nothing. I will let you suffer in the pits of hell as you wait and wait, until my face replaces yours and all memory of you vanishes from his heart . . . only then will I plunge a dagger into it!”
Unable to evade Diana’s wrath, Isa’s struggle soon waned. As life began to fade from her eyes and strength left her body, thoughts and memories of Cyrus flashed through her ever-weakening mind. What could I have done to alter the present? Events of her past began to flood what was left of her mind. The days when I still had a name and a reason to sing songs of glee. I remember when the thieves came and murdered my mother and father, stripping away my joy, but then Ramses rescued me.
One might call the poor woman cursed, but not Isa. Despite it all, my life fared better than many Isirians. I was mother to a loving son. So, she did the only thing she still had strength to do, smiling on behalf of the one good thing she would leave behind. At least you will receive a better life in my absence, even if it is a lie. Moments passed, and Isa departed from this world with tears and blood running down the length of her, murdered in the very house she had served for over a decade. Still blinded by madness, Diana began to strangle the poor slave even after her body lay limp, until she finally collapsed from fatigue.
Down the long steps, beyond the grasp of their ears, a banquet of rhythms beat through harp strings, drum tops, and brass flutes. Suckling roast pig and honey-fired chickens danced across the teeth and tongues of the Cardinal’s guests. The ignorant feasters continued to chew meat, sip wine, and share stories well into the night devoid of Diana’s presence. Though far from unexpected, eventually, the Cardinal desired a woman’s presence. “Geno, bring Isa to me.”
“Yes, My Master,” the young Drake answered, standing awkward and stiff by Marcus’s side. Along the journey toward the Slithering Queen’s chambers, Geno found Cyrus sitting silent halfway up the spiral. “Our Master commands for your mother.”
The slave son rose to his feet, flattening the loosely crumpled cloth of his ragged leggings. “Let me. There is a way to interrupt the queen and there is a way to disturb her. I know both, while you only know one. Wait here, let me handle this danger.”
Geno thanked him for his wisdom and assistance, replacing him as guardian of the central steps. Cyrus knocked three times ever so lightly against the massive wooden entrance with the back of his hand. When there was no response, he repeated, only this time it was two taps with all five knuckles. Still not a sound, and so he pounded once more with the full ball of his fist. Neither mother nor queen had answered, and so he entered, the door creaking open to an empty room. Where are they?
Chapter 11: Two Mothers
Cyrus began his search outside the queen’s personal bath, but found nothing, making his way toward the window by the bed. As he glanced past the framed glass, over the vast acres of dying grass beyond the Cathedral, he noticed the sloppy sheets atop the feathered bed. Mother would never leave the royal bed so messy. Cyrus took his steps with great care, following the guiding fingers of pulled satin, until he found them, collapsed on top of one another.
Are they asleep? Odd as that sounded, he whispered above his mother, “Please wake up, Mother.” Doing his best not to wake the queen. “His Holiness has asked for you.” Isa lay motionless at the foot of the bed. Her blank eyes were aimed at the ceiling as Diana lay faced down with her hands besides the dead slave’s throat. Cyrus saw the shards of broken glass from an emptied pitcher of wine, and thought, Did they drink too much? Why were they drinking at all?
There was still no answer, so he separated the bodies with all his strength. Blood? “Mother, wake up!” he shouted, hoping to shake her awake, but the only response was silence. “Mother, why won’t you wake up?” the boy asked once more. She must be drunk, that has to be it. He filled a cup with water, splashing a fistful onto Isa’s face, but still she would not wake.
Cyrus placed his fingers in the cup once more, flicking cool drops onto the second mother. “What! Who’s there?” Diana blurted with bobbled tongue, swiping the water from her lids.
“It’s me, My Queen,” Cyrus answered as she dragged her aching body toward the dark, wooden pillar at the corner of the bedpost.
“What has happened?” Diana stammered, barely able to hear the young slave’s words until her fingers stumbled upon Isa’s cold body. “Gods!” Too soon, what do I do? She wondered, glancing upon the desperate boy. Does he know? Has he told Ramses? Her mind raced, and her heart beat louder than the drums below as sweat and heat began to pour out from her skin.
“Thank the Divine Serpent that you are well, my lady,” Cyrus said. “Please, I need your help. Mother will not wake, no matter what I try. What happened to her?”
Thank the Divine Serpent I am safe. She scrambled to her knees, throwing her arms around the boy. “Praise the Goddess, I am saved. Your mother . . . does she live?”
Cyru
s’s brow twitched. “What do you mean?”
The Slithering Queen retreated deeper against the wood at her back, with a deliberate tremble. “Oh, dear child. Of course, you do not know. She wished to replace me as queen.”
“Lies!” the boy shouted, “she would never…”
Diana leaped through his words, grasping onto his balled fist. “I told her that Ramses would never allow it and she became enraged.” Her grip squeezed harder with each word as false tears trickled atop their huddled hands. “When Isa lunged at me with shattered glass, everything went dark. I cannot recall what happened after. Praise the Goddess for returning me.”
Time stopped as Diana’s words painted his mind red. Mother is dead? The question rang again within his skull. Mother is dead? And again. Mother is dead? Until finally, it became an answer. Mother is dead. The interlocked planks burst from the walls and began to splinter, flying across the room like a hurricane. A maelstrom swirled around him, swallowing the shards of broken glass, the wine, and blood as grief strangled his swelling heart, squeezing until the nightmare blinded him.
The boy’s blank mind filled, ever so slowly, with memories of his mother’s smile, her kind words and loving touch. Every moment of warmth quickly warping into collections of his mother’s suffering. The oldest memory continuously replaced itself until the day’s events took form: Geno’s recounting of the Cardinal’s abuse and finally, an image of her tears just before she entered the royal chamber. Rage and misery ripped at his soul until his pupils mirrored the hatred in his heart.
Diana brushed the boy’s boiling fury aside with a loving embrace. “You poor thing. I can hardly imagine your pain, but take solace, my child. You have saved your queen’s life. I swear upon my name and crown that you shall want for nothing and that I shall do my best to replace the love that her betrayal has cost you.” Let it go, Bastard. Succumb to me. She clutched him closer against her bosom. Just like that. Melt into my embrace. She grinned like a demon that claimed a soul from the divine—yet she did not see the scarlet fury that burned within his eyes.