Mythophidia

by Storm Constantine

  Shrugging off my assault, he appeared unconcerned about Papavera’s condition. ‘Simply have her brought here,’ he said, fiddling with some equipment on his bench, ‘and I will do what I can to ameliorate her condition.’

  Normally, nobody but me ever visited Anguin’s resiance, but on this occasion I was forced to secure the services of Vienquil and Eluski to carry the young queen up the stairs, because I was loath to touch the girl myself. Despite their unflinching loyalty to me, they still complained in the most forthright terms about the disagreeable odours and liquids emanating from the queen’s body. At Anguin’s direction, they laid Papavera on the largest table in the room, which the alchemist had cleared of debris. I had to hold a kercheif to my nose, for the stench was indeed terrible, although Anguin hastened to assure me this was only because the poor girl had soiled herself. My servants and I were then asked to depart, which we did without question.

  Back in my rooms, I poured us all a stiff tincture of narcoceine, which we drank in silence with shaking hands.

  ‘Your highness,’ Vienquil ventured. ‘If I may speak plainly, I feel there is something quite seriously amiss with the young queen.’

  ‘Something rather more than a simple illness,’ Eluski added.

  ‘A deduction I share, my dears!’ I said briskly. ‘However, I feel it is a subject we should not discuss at this point, at least until Anguin has reported back to me.’

  Both servants assumed a mulish expression, sensing my refusal to include them in my secrets. ‘Come now,’ I said in mild admonishment. ‘No need for hard faces! Vienquil, massage my shoulders, if you would. I feel quite shaken!’

  As the girl’s long, agile fingers plunged with shuddering accuracy into my muscles, I was beginning to question whether I had done the right thing in commissioning a bride for my son from the alchemist. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have asked him to concoct a philtre whereby Marquithi would have become so senseless, he’d have married a sheep if I’d asked him to. Still, it was too late for regrets. We could only live with the results of my actions and trust that Anguin knew what he was doing.

  At dinner-time, when Marquithi returned from a tour of the neighbouring estates, he came rampaging into my rooms, demanding to know what I had done with his wife.

  ‘Mother, Papavera’s ladies claim you had Vienquil and Eluski carry her off this afternoon! They say my beloved was quite ill! Where are the physicks? Where the sickroom fumes? Where, indeed, is Papavera?’

  ‘Calm yourself, my pet,’ I said. ‘The girl is in good hands.’

  ‘Those of your slithering wizard, no doubt!’ he cried. ‘Take me to my wife at once!’

  I regret that we fell into serious dispute at that point, resulting in my having to physically restrain Marquithi from barging to the secret stairway and breaking down the doors. I don’t know what would have happened if, at the climax of our altercation when the exchange of blows seemed imminent, the door to Anguin’s stairway had not opened and Papavera herself walked into the room.

  Marquithi let go of my hair and arms immediately and swept across the room to smother the girl in a fond embrace. ‘My love, my dear sweet love,’ he cooed. ‘What have they been doing to you?’

  There was not the slightest trace of illness lingering about Papavera’s body. Her pale skin had resumed its limpid translucency, her long, black hair its lustre. She smelled so strongly of honeysuckle that the air in the room was drenched in perfume.

  ‘Mother, what has transpired here?’ Marquithi asked, his arm protectively clutching the slim shoulders of his wife. ‘There is nothing wrong with Papavera.’

  The girl caught my eyes with her own, and gently, imperceptibly, inclined her head. A weird intelligence sparkled in her gaze which I had not recalled seeing there before.

  ‘Indeed not,’ I said, patting my hair, which had come quite adrift from its tressure in the struggle. ‘Happily, your illness seems to have been of a temporary kind, Papavera.’

  ‘I am quite well,’ she said softly.

  An idiot light bloomed in my son’s face. ‘A temporary sickness? Mother, call the physicks at once! Can it be my beloved is with child?’

  I shuddered and turned away. Somehow, the prospect of that was distinctly gruesome.

  Mercifully, Marquithi’s blithe assumption proved incorrect. Physicks examined Papavera and could find no trace of sickness, but neither any trace of pregnancy. It was decided her condition had been caused by something she’d eaten, or else a twist of the gut from some female complaint. Whatever the cause, she now appeared to be in the best of health and as vibrant as she ever could be. However, I could not dismiss a feeling of unease.

  Anguin again manifested infuriating obstinacy when I attempted to question him about the girl.

  ‘You saw her condition!’ I said. ‘She appeared dead, indeed half rotted! Yet, hours later, she trips into my chambers as lively as a doe! What was wrong with her, and what did you do about it? I demand to know, Anguin. Remember, I am your mistress!’

  Anguin waved aside my outburst. ‘The puissance of my work is ensured only by its secrecy,’ he said. ‘Therefore, I regret I cannot comply with your requests.’

  ‘At one time you doubted you were responsible for Papavera’s presence here at all,’ I reminded him.

  He grinned; an expression one would expect to find upon the slack-jawed face of a slaughtered dog. ‘Did I? And you believed me?’ He laughed. ‘Do you think a person who can induce an ancient parchment, as authentic as the hair on your head, to manifest spontaneously in the archives would encounter any difficulty conjuring up a princess?’

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘What are you saying? The document was genuine. It bore an antique seal no-one from Loolania could possibly have known about, but which the Councillors vouched was official, if rather outdated. You could not have created it.’

  He shrugged. ‘True... perhaps. Anyway, you must smother your fears about the young queen, your highness. The lady Papavera has a very delicate constitution and is therefore prone to minor maladies. It is nothing beyond my adroitness to handle.’

  ‘You mean this might occur regularly?’ I had to sit down. The prospect was not pleasant.

  Anguin shrugged. ‘To preclude such inconvenience, it might be best if the young queen visits me regularly, so that I might attend to her needs.’

  ‘Did you foresee this, Anguin?’ I demanded.

  He turned away. ‘It is impossible to anticipate the outcome of any experiment in fulness,’ he said.

  After her illness, the character of my daughter-in-law seemed subtly to change. There was less evidence of vacuosity, although she remained as mute as ever. I perceived a calculating glint in her eyes as they gazed, downcast, at the floor. Her followers and sycophants seemed hysterical in their desire to ingratiate themselves into her favour, and she seemed to grow taller from their attentions, trailing them behind her like the hem of a sumptuous gown that is worn for effect, but has become quite invisible to the wearer through its utter familiarity. Marquithi, on the other hand, shrank before the eruption of his wife’s dark glory. He locked his door upon Eluski’s requests for entrance, and I could no longer glean any information as to his condition or thoughts. Every night was spent with Papavera, and all that Eluski could report was that upon pressing his ear to the King’s bedroom door, he heard the sound of a woman’s laughter and the moans of a man in ecstasy - or torment.

  I never encountered Papavera in my rooms on those days when she went to visit Anguin, although I always knew when she’d been through them, because the scent of honeysuckle hung heavily on the air. Anguin must have cut another set of keys for her, because she never had to request entrance from me. I gradually realised that the palace and its occupants had all become subject to Papavera’s power. She had grown from a pathetic scrap of a girl into a creature of insidious strength. All were besotted by her. All, that is, but for myself and my immediate staff.

  One evening, I instructed Vienquil and Eluski to m
onitor the young queen’s behaviour, as I knew the time must be approaching when I would again encounter the flavour of honeysuckle lingering in my rooms. ‘Watch her with great care,’ I said, ‘and report.’

  Neither of them returned to my rooms that night, nor even in the morning. I believed them to be engaged upon some course of investigation, trusting their intelligence and survival skills would ensure their safety.

  At noon, I was aroused from the contemplation of a book by a faint, high-pitched scream that emanated from some distant corner of the palace. Later, two of the post-prandial guard came to my rooms and reported that my beautiful Vienquil and Eluski were dead. Vienquil had been found spreadeagled beneath the royal bee-hives, quite stung to death, her body unrecognisably swollen in the most hideous fashion. The bee-keepers were aghast and could not imagine what had impelled the swarms to behave in such an uncharacteristically aggressive manner. Eluski, having met the Black Summoner in an even more grisly way, had been found dead in a well, his genitals and his eyes having been brutally torn from his body.

  Upon receiving these unwelcome tidings, my body went into spasm and two of my maids had to beat my chest fiercely to force my lungs to draw breath. Emotion overtook me and I succumbed to a fit of weeping. The sensation of it was curious, for I had never suffered it before. How vile to be subject to such uncontrollable convulsions on a regular basis!

  Eventually, however, after a large dose of narcoceine, the reaction abated, and I was able to examine the situation with a placid eye. It seemed obvious to me who was responsible for these repulsive crimes. Papavera was clearly of my particular female clan, yet she was far from an accomplice of mine. How dare she despatch my favourite retainers with such aplomb! I was in the process of formulating a suitable response, when the bitch pre-empted me. Even as I reposed in my bed fashioning a wax poppet, she swept, without knocking, into the room and posed, hands on hips, at my feet. The scent of honeysuckle was so strong, it almost made me gag.

  ‘I can’t recall inviting you here to see me,’ I said, covering the poppet with a corner of blanket. ‘Neither did I hear you knock.’

  Papavera ignored my remarks. ‘I take exception to the eyes of spies,’ she said. ‘Do not presume to have me watched again.’ I don’t think I’d ever heard her speak so many words at once. She seemed like a towering column of evil vapour, as beautiful as she was wicked.

  ‘Papavera,’ I said, attempting to sound tranquil. ‘Would I be correct in thinking you are attempting to lock horns with me in some way?’

  She did not answer.

  ‘Look,’ I continued, ‘if any of my staff have been observing you, it was simply through my concern for your welfare.’

  ‘Pah!’ she spat. ‘I don’t need your concern! I am quite capable of looking after myself.’

  I could see that, and it vexed me greatly. I attempted a rueful smile. ‘My dear, I do not wish us to become enemies. We are sisters, after all, in a way.’

  Papavera flexed her narrow shoulders, and pulled her mouth down into a sneer. ‘Sisters? You attempt to amuse me, obviously. I am not your sister, I am your son’s wife. I am the Queen of Gordania, and you are the widow of a dead king. I have no intention of becoming your creature, like Marquithi is - was. I value my independence. All I have to say to you is this: leave me be, and I shall leave you be. This seems a sensible and workable arrangement.’

  ‘You have murdered the most valued of my people!’ I cried.

  She shook her head. ‘Indeed, I have not! Whatever gave you that idea? The beasts were punished in a just and fitting way, but not by me, I assure you.’

  ‘By whom, then?’

  Her face assumed a dreamy expression. ‘My kin are vigilant on my behalf,’ she said.

  ‘Your kin?’ A cold, dark shadow smothered my heart.

  ‘Quite so,’ she replied with a crooked grin. ‘Now, no more pretty boys sent to my husband’s room, no more spies, and I promise there’ll be no more unfortunate accidents. Are you agreeable to this?’

  My hand, beneath the coverlet clutched convulsively around the wax poppet. I opened my mouth to speak, but Papavera interrupted me.

  ‘And images of wax will certainly have no effect upon me,’ she said. ‘Of this you can be sure. Now, comply or suffer. It is your choice.’

  She mocked me. I had no choice.

  The sinister turn events were taking would have be dealt with immediately, I knew that. With Vienquil and Eluski gone, I realised how alone I was. Marquithi was lost to me, a paralysed insect in the web of the dark queen. Anguin, I felt I could no longer trust. In desperation, I appealed to the Chamberlain. For all his faults, I had realised Tartalan was no fool. Surely, he, of all the court, could discern the malevolent aspect of the young queen? He came to my rooms at nightfall, obeying my furtive summons.

  ‘Tartalan, there is something diabolical about Queen Papavera,’ I said. ‘She is dangerous and wicked, indeed possibly inhuman. It is imperative we do something about her.’

  Tartalan screwed up his nose in vexation. ‘Diabolical? Dangerous and wicked?’ He shook his head. ‘Why should you think that?’

  I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. There was no way I could convince Tartalan of the truth with an hysterical tremor in my voice. ‘My Lord Chamberlain, I beg you to listen to what I have to say. Every word is truth. Will you believe me?’

  He studied me profoundly for a few moments, and then nodded. ‘Of course. I believe you to be many things, my lady, but a liar is not one of them.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it. Your credulity may indeed be stretched by what I have to relate.’

  Because I needed an ally so badly, I gambled with Fate and told the Chamberlain everything, from the moment when I had approached Anguin with my dilemma. He listened in silence to my words, one finger pressed against his thin mouth. Near the end of my narrative, he was beginning to cast nervous glances over his shoulder. I have a gift for story-telling. Even I felt a little frightened.

  Tartalan shook his head, and rubbed his face. ‘This is a startling tale,’ he said and then peered at me sideways. ‘Still, it could be said you have brought this misfortune on yourself.’

  I made an exasperated sound. ‘I know! Don’t you think I haven’t admonished myself severely for that? Anyone can make a mistake. I did it for the sake of Gordania, not just for myself.’

  He nodded vaguely, apparently deep in thought. Then he said, ‘I will need proof of Papavera’s malignance before I dare approach the Council.’

  I gasped in horror. ‘Approach the Council? Are you mad? No, no! We must see to this abomination ourselves! But of course I respect your desire for tangible evidence...

  ‘So, what do you suggest?’ he inquired, as if we were discussing some trivial issue of palace etiquette.

  ‘We must observe what transpires in Anguin’s chambers on those occasions when Papavera visits him for her... treatments,’ I said. ‘It is to be hoped we should gain the knowledge of how to deal with her.’

  Tartalan looked doubtful. ‘With respect, I have no desire to suffer the same fate as other members of this household who have observed Papavera’s behaviour,’ he said.

  ‘Neither have I! But it seems to me that the young queen is at her least powerful when she needs Anguin’s attentions. It is the obvious time to set about dealing with her.’

  ‘I hope you are right,’ said the Chamberlain.

  It was a sentiment I shared.

  Papavera now visited Anguin once a month. I was unsure whether this was because her descent into illness had begun to occur on a more regular basis or simply because Anguin had stepped up her treatments in order to avoid any serious relapse. I was distinctly nervous of interfering. Anguin had withdrawn from me and I no longer enjoyed visiting him in his workroom. I realised I had badly underestimated his personal strength and overestimated his loyalty to me. He had created his own queen. Who really wielded the power in this House?

  As I counted the days to the dark of the moon, that time w
hen the scent of honeysuckle invaded my rooms, I thought wistfully, even affectionately, of the doltish Lady Selini of Crooms. Perhaps there was still room for manoeuvre in that direction - should Queen Papavera be removed from Marquithi’s life. This thought cheered me a little, as I wrought what sorcerous protection I could to provide Tartalan and myself with at least a measure of security.

  On the evening in question, a chill mid-winter night, Tartalan came to my chambers dressed in black. I myself donned the apparel of a man, so that I should be able to move quickly if the occasion merited it. Ever since my initial talk with the Chamberlain concerning this night’s venture, I had been considering how this might be the only chance I would get to rid myself of the presence of both Anguin and his creation. Consequently, I had armed myself with razor-edged metal crescents and topical poisons. Tartalan, as my witness, would be my only defence against any legal unpleasantness which might follow. We hid in one of the ante-rooms, and waited for the scent to reach us. At the hour when evening turns to night, all the lamps in my apartment became weirdly dimmer, and the appointments took on a vigilant, breathless appearance. Power sizzled invisibly in the air, raising the hairs on my arms and neck. I glanced at Tartalan as we crouched among the curtains. ‘Do you feel it?’ I asked him.

  He nodded.

  ‘She is coming,’ I said. ‘We will not see her, but she is coming.’

  A faint breeze that held the promise of snow lifted the golden fringes of the curtains, and I shrank back against the window casement. I was terrified that, at any moment, Papavera would swoop into the room and throw the curtain wide. She would stand there, tall as a tree, with her black hair whipping round her colourless face, and she would point a finger right at me, utter some fatal words... No, no, I must not direct my thoughts along such a fell avenue. I had charms aplenty around my neck, my skin had been anointed with an essence of protection. Papavera did not consider me a threat. As she glided through my rooms, she would not even give me a single thought. I pressed my hands against my mouth.