by Euan McAllen
Gregory looked back one last time. He was fleeing again, with Timothy again. Time had spun around in a vast circle. He lost it all again. There was no relief. Inside and Outside, both were cursed, both could bite. That left only the Maze and what there was within its walls. He studied the Hermit as he went in ahead, hoping for a clue as to how to survive. Hands locked tight, Esmeralda and her Timothy entered together, side by side. Gregory brought up the rear. A butterfly blew past on the wind; possibly lost, confused; possibly not. With a butterfly, it was hard to tell.
The next day, Prince Mozak - once temporarily known as Marcus, now Prince Regent - ordered the gate to be removed and the entrance bricked up. It felt better that way.
Into The Maze: Prequel
In the church, in the Village, in the Maze, sat an Outsider, the young Adolphinus; head lowered, eyes closed, as if he was trying to sleep, as if he was trying to shut out the world. He was not happy - not that ‘being happy’ had ever been the purpose of his visit. He felt empty, wasted. He was tired of the experience. He sat in denial, balancing a big headache, afraid it would topple him. He had tasted too much flesh. He had drunk too much. He had witnessed enough depravity to last a lifetime. He had had his adventure. He had lived how the other half lived and now wished for no more of it. He had scratched his itch until it bled. It was time to go. Time to clean up his act, go home, and sneak back in. Go home, he told himself: back to God and the rules and regulations which went with him. Such things made God stronger, easier to understand. They would make him stronger.
Adolphinus glanced up. The Vicar was walking towards him. He did not stop to say hello but carried on past with a haste which was manufactured purely to avoid eye contact. The two were not on speaking terms, and agreed on nothing except that God did exist. You have no rules, thought Adolphinus. You demand nothing. And this is what you have, nothing. Rules and regulations, thought Adolphinus; to put weak men in their place; to remove the need for decision making. Yes that is what we need. I see it now. Time to grow up. He was jolted out of his deep thought by a sudden invasion but refused to look up. It was Gregory who, without waiting to be invited, sat down next to him.
Gregory looked at Adolphinus. Was the man meditating again? Was he in conversation with his god again, making excuses? Always the hypocrite. They had known each other for nearly a whole year now and still Gregory did not know if he was regarded as a friend or not. Adolphinus rarely gave clues, only lessons in how to live and not live one’s life - whilst ignoring his own advice.
‘Thought I might find you in here.’
Still Adolphinus did not look up. ‘What do you want?’
‘I thought you would like to know.’
‘Know what?’
‘She’s given birth, and all is well. It’s a healthy baby. All is good.’
‘Good. That’s good.’
‘It’s a girl. She’s decided to call her Esmeralda.’
‘Esmeralda. That’s a nice name. Now leave me be. I need to be alone.’
Always alone, thought Gregory. You always want to be alone. Too embarrassed by your own sins?
‘Very well,’ he said and slipped away, to leave Adolphinus to continue his private battle with his conscience and the recent experiences he had inflicted upon it.
***
It was the young queen’s bedroom, in which Queen Anneeni sat alone, save for her cat, but not for long for she was expecting a visitor: Gregory, her personal assistant and now also her lover. King Helmotti was away hunting, likely at this late hour to be crashed out by a campfire, drinking himself into a comfortable stupor while singing dirty songs with his circle of loyal knights and other toadies. During the twelve months they had been wed he had turned her into a crazy woman, a woman denied the freedom to think, to talk, to be his equal. He took her for granted. He had hunted her down and now she was his trophy, his fresh meat.
Valadino had come to her rescue. Cocksure Valadino had turned her back into a woman with his sure cock and suave bedside manner. Valadino knew how to make a woman feel loved. He had made her sane again, love sex again, take risks again. And this was the biggest risk both of them had ever taken: having an affair under the nose of the king.
But it was worth it, she told herself over and over - sometimes boldly, sometimes nervously depending on how much alcohol she had consumed. Valadino kept her young, energized by always being on edge while negotiating a path between fear and frenzy, excruciating submission and sublime ecstasy. He looked up to her, not down on her. He thought it a privilege to be allowed to touch her, caress her, love her: with him she was not just temporary sexual relief from the stress of ruling the kingdom. He didn’t spin her around. He didn’t wind her up. He didn’t kick her out of bed, or into bed, or in bed. He was her bundle of joy, almost like a second cat.
And here he was, as promised, his body aching to give it his all. And her body began to ache as he approached the bed, smiling, finger on his lips requesting she say nothing. The affair had been going for weeks now so conversation was no longer a pre-requisite to sex. That came afterwards. Only the look mattered: the look he gave her and the look she gave him. And they made love, to perfection, with a consummate ease she never experienced with her husband. Afterwards, they sat up in bed and looked out at the darkness of the night. Like a couple of orphans, they only felt they had each other.
Valadino had no illusions. He knew it could not last. It had to end. He took what he could and enjoyed each encounter as if it was to be the last. It was a constant headache: not falling in love with the queen. For the queen it was a constant battle not to let her feelings show in public when Valadino was close by, worse still when talking to her.
***
Valadino sat up in bed and rubbed his head. Someone was banging on the front door of his cottage. It was night time - that gave him a bad feeling, one which escalated into terror as he imagined the king standing outside, perhaps wielding his sword, perhaps clutching a rope with which to hang him by the neck until dead. Valadino nearly pissed himself. He sneaked a look out of his bedroom window but saw no one. No guards then surrounding the place. So just one person at the door? Perhaps a messenger from the queen, to join her, for the king was away again.
Calmed by the power of his own logic, Valadino crept up to the door and opened it slowly, yanking it open when he saw that it was the queen herself; his queen; his lover; the hood of her cloak covering her head. She pulled it back to reveal her face. She did not look happy. Tears were threatening to explode in her eyes. In an instant he knew why she was her, what was coming. It could never last. What came had to go. As autumn pushed aside summer so it could not last. If there was to be another summer for him it would not be with her.
‘Do you want to come in?’
‘No. Best not.’
As expected, he thought. So say it, he thought. Get it over with.
Before she spoke again Queen Anneeni looked around, eyes darting this way and that, until she felt sure that they were totally alone.
‘I’m sorry Valadino but I have to say something.’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’
‘It has to end it yes?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. She felt a wave of relief pass over her for her burden had been lifted. She noted how well he was taking it, almost workmanlike.
‘I understand. Is he suspicious?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
The king was not suspicious: truth was she was suspicious that she was pregnant, and so she had a plan which she needed to execute immediately. And it did not involve young Valadino who was, in the final analysis, a nobody. Valadino interrupted her thoughts.
‘It was good between us, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘I made you happy yes?’
‘Yes you did. You made me very happy.’
‘Good
to hear it. Good luck then.’
‘Thank you.’ Suddenly, she looked awkward. ‘There is one more thing.’
‘Which is?’
‘You can’t be my personal advisor anymore. I have to dismiss you, with a month’s pay of course.’
‘Dismiss me? Why?’ Valadino felt abandoned and a little bit insulted. She could keep the month’s pay!
‘Too much history. It would be awkward having you around. We might give the game away.’
Having me around you, thought Valadino. Very well, so be it.
‘Very well.’
‘You’re not angry?’
‘No, not angry. Though I will have to find another job.’
‘You have your farm?’
‘It’s my brother’s farm now - and he’s up to his neck in debt.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find another job. You’re very clever.’
I don’t feel clever, thought Valadino.
‘Goodbye then,’ she said and turned away.
‘Goodbye,’ he replied and slammed the door - but only when he was sure the queen would not hear it.
Best not to fall out with the queen.
***
She was the talk of the Castle: the king’s mistress had given birth two days earlier and now the race was on. She and the queen lay in bed in adjacent rooms; each holding their new born baby like it was the most fragile thing; each cementing the bond; each recovering from the pain and exhaustion of childbirth. The queen looked down at her son, expecting the best for him. The king’s mistress looked down at her son, hoping for the best. Nothing could come between mother and child except the king, and he did.
The king had been acting doubly pleased with himself but only half as committed. Without warning, he entered his queen’s bedroom. He did not acknowledge her or return a smile but instead looked down at his baby, weighed up the evidence, and left without saying a word. Next he entered the bedroom of his mistress and did exactly the same. Back in the throne room he sat and deliberated.
Decision made, he issued a command: the babies were to be swapped, in secret; and nothing must ever be said about it, never, on pain of death. He wanted the bigger, more boisterous baby - and the child of the woman he truly loved - to be his official son, to be his prince, to be his successor. The mothers would be sworn to secrecy, and if they ever talked, well they would suffer - as would their children of course. He did not witness the screams of defiance and despair as each baby boy was pulled away from his outraged, protesting mother. And if he had he would have ignored it.
The queen held on to her baby to the last as they peeled him away. She could not let her flesh be separated from his. And when she was finally forced to concede defeat she fell back exhausted, broken and bemused by the action of her husband. Why take away her only son? The answer came when she was ordered to accept the replacement and the truth dawned. When she protested she was told it was ‘by order of the king’. ‘Tell no one else suffer the consequences,’ she was told. Accept it, she was told, and move on. She never would. The fraud would slowly crush her soul, and kill her.
The king’s mistress suffered much the same agony, though the thought that her son would grow up to be the prince, and one day the king, eased the pain of separation and gave her the reason to carry on. She looked down at the queen’s baby in her arms. He was a lovely little baby. Yes, she knew her place. Yes, she would love this child as if it was her own - and she would demand that the queen do likewise. It would be the only way for both of them to survive this - and likewise their children. ‘They are our children’, she would tell the queen later. ‘We must be mothers to both of them.’ Their sons, later named Helmotti and Bizi, would never be told the awful truth, for it might drive them mad.