by Lucas Flores
The man grunted again and continued to sharpen his ax.
“Ok then,” Blackheart said. She adjusted the sleeves of her dress, waiting for the man to acknowledge her. “Well, ok then,” she whispered before leaving.
The following morning, Blackheart and Zane escorted Marie and Josephine downstairs to the executioner’s room. The prisoners were bound and forced onto their knees.
A guard entered the room, stood at attention beside the doorway, and shouted, “Long live the queen.”
The queen walked in and glared at Marie and Josephine. “At last we are here,” she said. “I bestowed upon the two of you my most unwavering trust. I’ve protected you both and even considered the two of you as friends. Josephine, you are the closest thing I have to a sister. Everything about you reminds me of your brother, so it pains me to see you this way.”
Blackheart shuffled impatiently. “Enough of the pleasantries. The executioner should be here any moment now.”
Metal scraped against the floor outside the room. Blackheart clenched her teeth together and covered her ears. The high-pitched noise sent chills through her body.
The executioner entered the room. He walked straight up to the queen’s side.
“Well, here they are,” Blackheart stammered while pointing to Marie and Josephine. Annoyed that the executioner completely ignored her, she repositioned herself along the other side of the queen. She pointed to Marie and Josephine again and repeated, more confidently, “Here are the traitors. Their crime was lying to the queen and disobeying a direct order from the Crown.”
The executioner grabbed Marie and Josephine by the hair and dragged them across the room. Both screamed. He threw them onto the chopping block. “Stay,” he uttered in a deep commanding voice as he readied his blade.
“Wait!” Blackheart shouted. “I almost forgot.” She stepped toward the doorway. “Bring in the child.”
A guard from outside the room pushed Red in and blocked the doorway. She moved toward Marie, but Blackheart stepped forward and grabbed hold of her little arms.
Red squirmed and fought to free herself from Blackheart’s grip. She broke out into tears. “Mommy!” she screamed.
Tears streamed down Marie’s face as she tried to release herself from her bindings. She screamed and lifted herself up off the block, but the executioner pushed her back down.
Marie spoke to Red. “Don’t worry, sweet pea. Be still, my daughter.”
The queen stepped forward. “She is not your daughter, you filthy witch. You took her from me.”
Marie remained perfectly still. She sang an old lullaby to Red, even as the executioner lifted his ax. Then, with one quick swing, the singing stopped.
“No!” Josephine and Red cried.
And with another swing of the ax, the last living heir to the throne was gone.
Red kicked and screamed. “Mommy! Noooo!” She tried to free herself to run to her mother’s side, but Blackheart’s grip was too firm.
Blackheart pulled Red out of the room and threw her back to the guard who brought her in. “Take her back to the west wing. It’ll be her turn tomorrow.”
“Oh, really?” the queen asked. She strode to the doorway, grabbed Blackheart by the hair, and pulled her back into the room. “You’ve had your way this time. The girl lives or you’ll find yourself sharing a grave with Marie and Josephine. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” Blackheart replied.
* * *
Disgusted by her cousin’s heartlessness, the queen threw Blackheart onto the ground and left the executioner’s room. In the hallway, she looked down at Red for a moment but didn’t know what to say. The child had just lost the woman who raised her. She thought to herself, “Maybe now is my chance to make up for lost time. But how?"
“Please take her back to her room, and make sure she has a decent meal,” the queen said to the guard holding Red before briskly walking away.
The queen felt torn. She wanted to establish a relationship with her daughter, get to know her, and maybe one day receive her love the way Marie had. But at the same time, she knew that most of the kingdom had no tolerance for lepers. “And it’s all my fault,” she whispered.
Later that day, while on her way to see Red, the queen pondered the past and how long she had waited and hoped that the king would return safely. She remembered those sleepless nights when all she could think about was his touch and the smell of his skin. It drove her mad. Waiting for a man who never returned became a form of torture.
Two years after the king departed on his voyage, when it became clear that he would never return, the queen decided to take on suitors. One man who stood out to her was the one with nothing to offer. Unlike the rest of the suitors, the unidentified stranger was tall and handsome. His eyes were blue and his hair was red. It was assumed that he was not from this land because no one recognized him. He himself didn’t even know who he was or where he came from.
Having lost her husband to the sea, the queen couldn’t resist the fantasy that a man found unconscious on the shore was somehow meant for her, as if the sea was giving her a second chance at love.
While lepers and sympathizers were hunted and the city was cleaned of such impurities, the queen gave in to her own sin. The two lovers became close. Whispers of the affair circled the palace and, before long, the two had conceived Red.
When Blackheart learned of this, she had the man taken away. Though Blackheart had seemingly good intentions, and was looking out for what was best for the kingdom, the queen regretted being so easily influenced by her. Now, six years after giving birth, she knew that it was a mistake to give up her baby. She missed the first six years of her child’s life. Six years of someone else raising her and receiving the love she always wanted. Despite all this, she knew the kingdom would never accept or acknowledge Red as royalty. For now, all she could do was keep her close to ensure her safety.
“People here aren’t used to seeing people like you. It bothers them, so keep your birthmarks hidden away in the shadows,” the queen said as she handed Red an oversized cloak before introducing her to the palace foreman. “Wear this while you’re working in the palace, and stay out of the way as much as possible.”
After a few months had passed, the queen was given strict orders by the doctor to rest and remain relaxed in order to avoid complications with her pregnancy. Since General Bello was always wrapped up with his duties, the queen was scared to move a single muscle. Instead, she had Red work in her bedroom as her personal attendant. This also became a way for her to spend more time with Red, to get to know her and maybe form a sense of family that they had missed out on.
One day, as the queen lay resting, she called out, “Dearie, oh dearie.” She lifted her head an inch off the pillow, but dramatically sank back into it with a sigh. She wore a thin nightgown that stretched tightly around her large stomach, which protruded out of her frail looking, otherwise twig-like body.
Red, who was scrubbing the floor around the bed with a wire brush, stopped and stood up. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Would you get Mommy more pastries?” she asked. However sweet the queen made herself out to sound, she knew her deep voice scared the girl.
Red quickly dropped the wire brush and dried her hands with her cloak. Damp from the knees down, she ran to the credenza where the kitchen staff had placed a spread of sandwiches, pastries, and teas. She used silver tongs to grab a piece of sweet bread and placed it on a small ceramic plate. She then ran back to the queen and handed her the bread.
Their relationship was strongly defined by protocols. Red was only allowed to speak when spoken to by the queen. She wasn’t allowed to call the queen anything but "Your Majesty," and, in the presence of others, she was to stay mute and keep her hands, arms, and face covered.
As soon as the queen started eating the sweet bread, she tore off a piece and handed it to Red. Red smiled and stuffed the entire piece of bread in her mouth. Still chewing, she returned to her spot on the
floor and went back to work.
After a few minutes, three knocks sounded at the door. It swung open and Blackheart walked into the room.
Red stopped, remained perfectly still, and tried her best not to be noticed. Though everyone in the palace knew she was the queen’s daughter, the queen felt it was in everyone’s best interest to ignore her and not be reminded of her presence.
“I have urgent news,” Blackheart said. “The generals found and took the rioters’ camps in the woods and captured scores of lepers in the process. They were equipped with weapons that they’d taken from our guards over the years and accumulated an ample surplus of livestock, silver, and gold. Oh, and General Bello wants to see you,” Blackheart said to conclude her report.
The queen nodded but didn’t respond. She could not leave the palace in her current condition.
Blackheart stared at the queen’s protruding belly. “I’ll relieve him so that he can come to you. That way the two of you can spend some time together, alone, without that.” She looked at Red and smiled.
* * *
The following day, Blackheart quietly left the palace. The same flare of escorts and parades that typically accompanied the queen when she left the palace wasn’t there for Blackheart. Only Zane and a few guards escorted her outside and waited to see her out of the palace. They stood at attention as she passed and entered her carriage.
Blackheart smiled and waved majestically before closing the carriage door, as if a crowd of people was seeing her off. She smiled and relished the fact that even though she wasn’t going to be around, she still managed to cause a little trouble for Red. Earlier that morning, while Red slept, Blackheart left a piece of bread in her room and locked the door from the outside. She smiled and fondled the key a few times as the carriage passed through the city, knowing that Red wouldn’t be able to report to work on time.
When traveling in the forest, royalty or dignitaries usually included an armed escort for safety. But, now that the trees were gone, reduced to barren fields of tree stumps, Blackheart saw no need to have armed guards escort her through. The road ahead was clear and safe enough.
However, after half a day of traveling, the carriage stopped unexpectedly. “Why have we stopped?” she yelled to the chauffeur. When he did not respond, she thrust the carriage door open and just missed hitting General Bello.
“You stopped because of me. We were coming to escort you from the palace to the leper settlement.” Bello leaned forward on his grey riding stallion and peered down at Blackheart before dismounting. “But I see you got an early start.”
Confused, Blackheart stepped out from the carriage and saw two armed guards on horseback in the road ahead of them. “I was coming to relieve you so that you could spend time with the queen. She’s in no condition to travel.”
“Ah, well, this is perfect,” Bello exclaimed. “I’ll continue on my way to the palace and you can continue to the settlement with an armed escort. You really shouldn’t travel these roads alone.” He filled her in on the progress made while clearing out the forest.
“Very good. I’m looking forward to seeing things for myself,” she said. Bello mounted his horse and rode away toward the palace without formally saying goodbye.
Disgusted by his insubordination, she stomped her way back to the carriage and climbed inside.
It took nearly two days to reach the edge of the forest that butted up against the Caterpillar’s Forest. Even with the escort, Blackheart had her chauffeur ride day and night and only asked to stop a few times.
As the sun was setting on the second day and Blackheart’s carriage arrived at the settlement, she gazed out the window. To her surprise, there were many trees still standing.
The chauffeur trumpeted their arrival and dismounted to assist Blackheart out of the carriage. The generals hastened out of their tents.
Blackheart walked straight up to Bello’s right-hand man. “Why are we standing in the middle of the woods?” The general hesitated, then mumbled a quiet, indiscernible response.
“What did you say?” Blackheart asked.
He cleared his throat and stuttered, “Your Grace, the saws have dulled out.”
“What?” She did not expect the blades to dull. “Well then, that’s not your fault at all, is it? Bello should have reported this.”
“The good news, Your Grace, is that we’ve cleared out enough of the forest to cease the rioters.”
Blackheart remained silent for a moment. “You think these are all the rioters? What makes you think there aren’t any more in the Caterpillar’s Forest?”
“Like I said, Your Grace, they’re as good as dead if they wandered further north.”
“Yes, my gut is telling me you’re right, but there is no way to know for sure unless we step into that forest and look for them. Don’t you agree?” He gulped loudly and cleared his throat.
Before he could reply, Blackheart eagerly jumped into the more pressing topic. “So where are these rioters?”
“This way,” the general replied.
After a few minutes of walking, they reached a deep pit dug into the ground.
Though the dusky sky and nearby campfires cast a hint of light into the vast pit, it was mostly bathed in shadows and darkness. From the light available, and the cries of those inside, Blackheart could discern both men and women. Judging by the voices and the grieving, she could also tell that entire families, parents and children, were captured and that some individuals had broken limbs after being thrown in. She was surprised to see so many lepers and sympathizers all in one place. “There must be scores of them in there,” she said through a smile.
The general puffed up his chest. “Oh, there are a lot, yes. They appear to have been living a separatist’s life out in the woods, caring for themselves and for each other, like a community of families.”
“I’ve seen enough,” Blackheart said. “Bury them.” Nothing disgusted her more than the sight of sympathizers and lepers standing together.
“Alive?” His eyes bulged widely. “Don’t you think we should consult General Bello and the queen first?”
Blackheart laughed. “Are you questioning me? Yes, alive. Now give the order so that we can move on to other things. I will remain here and see to it that everything continues to operate smoothly in Bello’s absence.” Though she would never admit it, Blackheart enjoyed overseeing the military operations. She felt an inherent sense of power commanding others who had been trained to follow.
The general hesitated, but a stern look from Blackheart compelled him to give the order. The queen’s soldiers began to shovel dirt back into the pit. Screams erupted from the people below. Women pleaded and shouted to spare their children.
None were saved.
The other generals and guards gathered around.
The soldiers were a blur of movement, rapidly shoveling and moving back and forth between piles of dirt and the pit. It didn’t take long for the earth to silence every last cry for help.
CHAPTER 7
Red woke in her usual fashion. She sat up in her bed when the bells rang and wiped the morning grime off her face.
She saw the small loaf of bread, practically the size of a dinner roll, lying on the floor. What was it doing there? “I don’t remember sneaking in food from the kitchen last night,” she said as she got out of bed and dressed. She didn’t pay too much attention to it though because she had to get ready to start her chores. The queen was expecting her.
Red picked up an old brush that sat on the broken night stand and worked the tangles out of her red hair. She often wondered about her mother and whether she did the same things in the morning when she lived in the palace. She pushed the thoughts from her mind. Thinking of her mother still brought tears to her eyes, but it was getting easier now that several months had passed.
She held the brush in her little hand a bit longer before putting it back on the night stand. She still didn’t feel comfortable in the room so she tried to keep everything in its place,
where she found it, where her mother last left it.
Using water she kept in a bowl, Red washed her arms, face, and neck. Water barely trickled out of the sink in the shared wash room, so she filled a bowl every few days and used that to wash herself in the mornings.
She wore the same clothes on most days because the other servants wouldn’t give her new things to wear. A fat servant who always smelled bad screeched, “You’re far too young to have to change as often as adults.” The others agreed. “Yes, my dear, you’re too young. When you get older, we’ll make you more.” It was common for servants not to go out of their way for someone else or do more work if they didn’t have to. To them, making clothes for a girl who would quickly outgrow them was a wasted effort. However, they did take turns patching up her tiny frock when Red tore holes through it.
When Red was ready, she picked up the dark cloak that the queen had given her and slipped into it. Unlike her frock, the cloak was beautiful. It was heavy and made out of a good material. It was simple, but embroidered with shapes of flowers and hearts.
Red tried to open the door. She turned the nob. Locked. She tried again, thinking she had done something wrong. She tried again and again, frantically pulling and twisting the knob. Nothing worked.
She pounded her fists against the spiny, splintered door. She screamed, “Help me! Someone, help me!” She was hitting the door so hard that splinters of wood pricked the skin on her small fists.
A woman on the other side of the door shouted and told Red to remain calm. Then, something slammed against the door.
Startled, Red took a few steps back. Something crashed into it again, but it still stood firm.
“Ooohh, ouch!” the woman screamed. “I’ve really done it this time.”
After the woman stopped screaming, Red could hear two people talking on the other side but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then, after a few minutes, the door swung open.
Red smiled and jumped up and down. She waved her blood-smeared hands up in the air to celebrate.