We Three Queens

by Jon Jacks

  Uraeus shook her head and smiled pleasantly.

  ‘Why thank you, kind Mintaka: and to think, I’d had heard that hawks seem to enjoy nothing more than eating a poor animals intestines and spleen! But I can’t take your life simply for the sake of something as trifling as a brooch!’

  ‘Then I insist you share in the glow of my eyes,’ the hawk said, hopping closer towards Uraeus so that she could let their light shine fully into her, ‘to aid you in your two most important journeys. One will be as a lamp to you that can safely lead you anywhere, even when the light is so bright it blinds you. The other is for the journey you must take now – it will be as a mirror, one allowing you to both see your reflected light and also recognise your veiled darkness.’

  Now Uraeus couldn’t really see how such remarkable gifts could really aid her on any journey she might wish to take: but Mintaka wasn’t to know that, of course, Uraeus told herself, and so she had no right to complain or moan.

  But Mintaka was no longer there.

  Neither was poor Saif, who must have recovered and flown off without Uraeus realising.

  More amazingly, though, the dress she was wearing wasn’t her coal dust splattered smock but the dress of night and fire. She was holding its front up slightly in her hands, as she had with her smock when she had let Saif safely fall into its hammock-like embrace.

  But within the whirling firmament of the magic dress she saw herself there, as an angel might rise through the stars and past the brightly glowing planets.

  She also saw there another Uraeus, one who was of the darkness, not the light: and yet she still suddenly and briefly shone brightly, as the Evening Star burns before plummeting into the darkness of the netherworld.

  *

  It was a darkness illuminated everywhere around the palace by the most immense braziers Uraeus had even seen, the flames reaching skyward, creating an orb of blazing red around the looming buildings.

  Carriages arrived endlessly, languidly trundling along the wide roadway, no matter the sense of urgency of their young and eager occupants to finally arrive at the ball. They knew that an aura of decorum had to be maintained.

  Uraeus, of course, had neither carriage nor even a single horse to carry her to the steps rising up towards the palace’s great doors. She merely appeared from the darkness lying outside of the sphere of flame-red light, ascending the steps as regally as if the blackest carriage of all had dropped her off and now still lay hidden there, waiting patiently for her return.

  At least, this is what anyone lucky enough to witness her arrival presumed: for how could a princess so gorgeously dressed have arrived by any other means?

  Her dress was of the dark cosmos itself, illuminated by the whirling constellations of stars!

  Dressed in this manner, and carrying herself with an enviable élan gifted her by the elegantly revolving stars themselves, Uraeus couldn’t fail to make an impression on anyone who saw her: or indeed, on anyone who heard of her, for the excited gossip spread around the halls and corridors as swiftly as fire rushes through dried undergrowth.

  The prince of this dark ball was intrigued when he heard of her.

  Enchanted when he saw her.

  Charmed when he spoke to her.

  Entranced when they touched.

  Bewitched when they danced.

  Who can truly say what his feelings might have been if they had kissed?

  ‘I must visit your lands,’ the prince breathed hungrily. ‘I must meet with your king, your queen, and ask permission–’

  ‘You have my permission to visit,’ Uraeus breathed almost as excitedly, her own urgency enhanced by her need to interrupt him before he made any embarrassing declaration of marriage.

  For, of course, there was no king or queen, nor were there any lands that either they or she owned.

  And naturally, she didn’t want him to know this.

  ‘Though my lands lie far beyond the ancient forest,’ she added, hoping to dissuade him from ever searching for her non-existent lands.

  ‘Really?’ he said, frowning in puzzlement. ‘I know of no palace lying in that direction; and yet my ambassadors regularly travel far beyond my already extensive lands.’

  ‘It is a land constantly veiled by both mists and ignorance of its existence,’ Uraeus replied, maintaining the pretence that she was indeed the wealthy princess she appeared to be (for to admit otherwise would be far too embarrassing and shaming for even her to bear!). ‘It would not surprise me that they might have missed it on their travels.’

  ‘Then I must inform my advisers that they have to first check then change their maps and charts!’ the prince declared, raising a hand high above the whirling dancers and, with a click of his fingers, demanding the approach of his most trusted confidantes.

  ‘Then I, too, will fetch my carriage driver,’ Uraeus stated pleasantly, sadly letting her fingers slip from the hand of the handsome prince, miserably parting and drawing back from him. ‘Only he can really help them chart the positions of my lands.’

  She regretfully stepped away from the dance floor.

  She imperiously strode through the ballroom’s vast doors.

  She rushed down the elegant stairway leading outside.

  She fled the palace.

  *

  She was in the darkness once more.

  But now the blaze of light surrounding the palace was behind her, not ahead of her.

  She couldn’t see where she was heading.

  She wasn’t sure where to go. She wasn’t sure how she had even come here in the first place.

  If only the moon were out, she thought, I might have some idea where I’m running to.

  Her feet told her the land she was sprinting across was becoming more uneven, less cultivated, wilder.

  As she flailed out with her hands before her, trying to ensure she didn’t run into anything in the darkness, she realised she was rushing headlong into a heavily wooded area, perhaps even a forest.

  That wasn’t wise.

  Not at any time. But particularly on a night.

  Night was when the creatures of the forest took firm control of it. When their heightened senses and instincts gave them a distinct advantage over man, whose intelligence counted for nothing when it was panicked into incoherence by fear of the darkness.

  This was the time of bears, of wolves.

  Realising she should turn around, Uraeus spun upon her heels and glanced back towards the palace.

  But there was no brightly illuminated palace, as she’d expected to see through the maze of trees.

  She must have got confused, she thought: she must be looking in the wrong direction.

  She glanced everywhere about her.

  Yet no matter where she looked, she could no longer see the blazing red glow enveloping the palace.

  Surely she hadn’t run so far from the palace in so short a time!

  Worst of all, now that she had spun around, she was completely disorientated. She had no idea of the way she had been running, let alone the way leading back to the palace!

  She cautiously strode on through the forest, a mass of nothing but slightly varying shades of darkness, hoping to find something – anything – that might help her re-establish the way to take to reach safety once more.

  From out of the surrounding darkness, there came a growling. A snarl.

  Just ahead of her, there was a bright, flickering glow: the sharp yellow light of hungry, almond-shaped eyes, watching her every move.

  *

  The eyes of a wolf.

  She couldn’t outrun a wolf!

  It was a creature of the night, of the forest. It could see clearly where she would only be befuddled and useless! It could move as swiftly through otherwise obstructive undergrowth as smoothly as fish flow through water!

  The fearful beast moaned threateningly.

  The dreadful creature groaned.

  The pitiful animal whimpered.

  It wasn’t moving towards her, as she
had feared it might.

  It remained where it was.

  It slumped to the floor, crumpling onto one side, its yellow eyes closing exhaustedly.

  Uraeus tentatively drew a little closer towards the supine wolf.

  A thick, white stem appeared to be growing from its underside.

  A spear: or a lance. Deeply embedded in the poor beast’s stomach, right thorough his navel.

  Uraeus carefully and silently knelt down beside the sickening creature, reaching out to tenderly caress its blood matted fur, its painfully heaving chest.

  ‘What can I do? What can I do to help you?’ she asked concernedly.

  She looked at the spear, wondering if it would be wise to attempt to withdraw it.

  It might make things worse, opening up the wound.

  It might even result in her own death, if it caused the wolf such pain it at last attacked her.

  She gripped the lance, the wolf’s blood running between her fingers.

  She had to help this injured animal, no matter what danger it put her in.

  Slowly, she pulled on the lance, withdrawing it as gently and smoothly as she were able. As part of the metallic point was revealed, she took even more care, ensuring the sharp edges didn’t cause further agony to the painfully whimpering wolf.

  She breathed with relief when the blade finally came free. She cast it aside with a further, thankful sigh.

  ‘Thank you for rescuing my father.’

  Wondering who had thanked her, Uraeus spun around: and found herself staring into the yellow, reptilian eyes of another and obviously younger, stronger wolf.

  Naturally, Uraeus was surprised to hear a wolf speaking so politely to her: but naturally, she didn’t wish to startle the wolf by pointing this out.

  Instead she said kindly, ‘Your father needs help that I’m afraid I’m unable to give him.’

  ‘If you are only afraid of what little aid you can give him,’ the wolf replied, ‘rather than being afraid of us, then I can assure you that he will recover. And so for saving the life of my father, Ensis, I offer my own life to you as forfeit: for I am Rigel Duamutef, and you can make an enchanted stole of my pelt that, when cast about you, will render you invisible to any assailant.’

  Now of course, Uraeus was well aware that such a magical shawl was exactly what she required to hide from the prince and his men, should they decide to come seeking after her: yet she shook her head and smiled pleasantly.

  ‘Why thank you, kind Rigel: and to think, I’d had heard that wolves seem to enjoy nothing more than filling their stomachs with people who get lost in the woods! But I can’t take your life simply for the sake of something as trifling as a stole!’

  ‘Then I suggest you share in the blood of both me and my father,’ the wolf said, striding closer towards Uraeus so that she could see that, like his father, he had suffered a wound to his own chest.

  Concerned, she reached out to touch the still freshly bleeding gash: and as the blood trickled through her fingers in bright drops as red as Mars, as succulent as berries, they rained across the soft and welcoming earth and seeded there.

  They sprouted, black stalks bearing white leaves, burgeoning into red blooms.

  The black of polished boots and smartly pressed pantaloons, the white of crisp, crossed belts, the red of tunics and tricornes.

  For every drop spilt – and there were hundreds, scattering everywhere about the ground, despite the wolf suffering no noticeable harm – a proud solider came to life in its place.

  And despite it still being dark, the soldiers set immediately to work, reclaiming the land, creating farms, establishing towns; and building Uraeus a towering palace.

  *

  As her palace and cities swiftly rose about her, an awestruck and distracted Uraeus didn’t notice when or how the wolves vanished. She hoped, however, that they were still safe, perhaps having created their own new home within whatever was left of the forests her new kingdom had displaced, for thick woods still surrounded its very farthest boundaries.

  This didn’t sound quite as amazing and unlikely as it might have seemed only a few moments ago, for her own lands were abruptly populated, the soldiers bringing with them sons, spouses, fathers, siblings, daughters, brides, and, naturally, mothers. With them came all manner of beast, creature, and animal, the farms instantly industrious and prosperous.

  Almost as immediately, an ambassador arrived in the courtroom announcing the arrival of a rich prince seeking urgent audience with the princess.

  Of course, it was the darkly handsome prince of the ball, who had set off searching for the mysterious princess the moment she had fled his embrace on the dance floor.

  He arrived in the courtroom beautifully attired, his own attendant troops even more numerous and spectacularly uniformed than the princess’s soldiers.

  The prince and princess instantly recognised each other.

  They rushed into each other’s arms.

  ‘We must be married,’ the prince insisted hungrily. ‘Tonight! At the very latest, tomorrow, and long before the sun has chance to rise!’

  Naturally, the princess was thrilled by this declaration of enduring love.

  And yet…she noticed the disquiet that had settled over the people attending her court.

  Yes, they smiled: politely, courteously.

  But they were forced smiles, the smiles of those who were following orders, not their own inclinations.

  They obviously didn’t agree that marriage to this prince would be a good thing for either them or the kingdom.

  They wouldn’t protest against the marriage, their strained, sickened expressions revealed: but they would prefer that no such marriage took place.

  And so Uraeus politely, courteously, stepped away from the prince.

  And politely, courteously, she declined his offer of marriage.

  The prince’s eyebrows rose in astonishment.

  In bewilderment.

  In fury.

  For this was lust, not love.

  ‘Then I shall take what is rightfully mine,’ he declared imperiously, turning around and striding purposely out of the vast hall, ‘even if our union can only be forged through war!’

  *

  Despite the size and capabilities of her new army, the princess realised that neither they nor her kingdom would have a hope of repulsing the might of the dark prince.

  Even as the prince stormed out of her palace and boarded his waiting carriage, he mustered his generals about him, giving orders for the gathering of his armies, making plans for the surrounding and eventual capturing of the princess and her lands.

  The princess briefly considered calling him back, relenting to his demands.

  But she held back, wanting time to think this dilemma through.

  Of course, it was all no more than a waste of time.

  No matter how much she considered the matter, she always came around to the very same conclusion: she couldn’t let either her people or her kingdom face depravation and devastation simply for her own sake.

  She had to make peace with the prince. Even if that meant capitulating to his demands for marriage and the unification of the two nations.

  She informed her courtiers and her own generals that she would ride out into the darkness on her own, to meet and greet the prince even as he advanced towards them at the head of his vast armies.

  He was already passing through the surrounding forests.

  He would be here soon.

  There was nothing else she could do.

  *

  As Uraeus rode through the woods towards the swiftly encroaching prince and his troops, the creatures of the forest disturbed by the army’s approach rushed everywhere about her.

  The animals were terrified, panicked, and dashed past her as if she were invisible. Suddenly, a young lion leapt out of the darkness just in front of her, his mane briefly blazing as it caught and reflected the light of the lantern held by the princess.

  Uraeus was st
artled. Her horse was startled. The lion was startled.

  They all reacted with horror, all rearing up in fright.

  The horse instinctively flailed out with its forelegs, its incredibly hard hooves striking a harsh blow across the young lion’s heart. The lion’s already ferociously beating heart couldn’t take anymore: the poor creature’s legs collapsed beneath it.

  ‘No, no! That’s enough!’ Uraeus shouted at her panicked horse, pulling hard on its reins to stop it from continuing its pummelling of the now helpless lion.

  Seeing that the lion had now completely crumpled to the floor, slumping into a heap amongst the undergrowth, Uraeus’s mount calmed down enough for her to be able to restrain and prevent it from uncontrollably darting off. She slipped down off its back, winding its reins around the branch of a nearby bush.

  Kneeling down by the young lion, Uraeus wondered what she should do to help it recover. She caressed its heart, sighing with relief when she realised it was still beating, if unsteadily.

  ‘Thank you for saving my brother.’

  Wondering who had thanked her, Uraeus spun around: and found herself staring into the burning eyes of another and obviously older, stronger lion.

  Naturally, Uraeus was surprised to hear a lion speaking so politely to her: but naturally, she didn’t wish to startle the lion by pointing this out.

  Instead she said kindly, ‘Your brother needs help: I fear that his heart is racing too much!’

  ‘And yet your heart is obviously in the right place,’ the lion replied, admiring her gentle massaging of the young lion’s chest, ‘and so I am sure that he will recover. For saving the life of my brother, Hatsya, I offer my own life to you as forfeit: for I am Saiph Hapy, and you can construct a soaring balloon of air from my lungs, together with a magical, blazing mane that will lift you up to safety as surely as Saturn rises as the Midnight Sun into the sky.’

  Now of course, Uraeus was well aware that any device that could magically lift her up and away in safety was exactly what she required to avoid the prince and his men: yet she shook her head and smiled pleasantly.

  ‘Why thank you, kind Saiph: and to think, I’d had heard that lions seem to enjoy nothing more than running down their prey! But I can’t take your life simply for the sake of saving my own!’