The hunter’s bow was cocked and ready to strike. He was nearing sixty years old and was aware of how the kill would go down. The unsuspecting prey carelessly allowed him the advantage by being unaware danger was near. He saw it many times before when he hunted deer. They were his favorite prey as they were as beautiful as they were easy to kill. But this was no deer. This was a girl of seventeen. She was raised in a castle with servants. If her parents were alive she would not be in this danger.
He pulled on the arrow. The target was within his grasp. Sweat poured out of his skin. He knew he must strike soon. He looked again at the Princess who was bending down to pick a flower like a maid would choose her brush. The moment was ideal for a kill. He would be rewarded or executed.
His mind said, Shoot now!
The Queen was like a python ready to squeeze power from the Princess. Power became everything. Princess Joanna would die by an arrow shot by her own servant. His hand twitched as if it caught all his guilt.
He thought of his task. Shoot!
Princess Joanna was the rightful heir to her father’s throne. She should marry a prince, not face death. He let his finger slide on the bow for a second. Sweat had soaked through his clothes. The girl moved towards another flower as she hummed a song from long ago — the melody familiar at the moment of discovery.
Shoot her.
He was blameless; it was an order from the Queen. His mind raced with images of Princess Joanna’s father, mother, great uncles and all her relations; it was as if they were walking across it.
Shoot.
Even if the people of Bow would not know what really happened, the hunter would know. He would know. He tugged on the arrow. The arrow vibrated in the bow like the command vibrated from the Queen’s throat.
The arrow waited on his command.
Shoot?
He lowered his bow.
True power, like love, was given, not taken.
He felt tremendous sorrow because he knew the Queen would kill him. He thought of his poor wife. Perhaps he could save her. He thought they might escape over the border to the Kingdom of Ott which was fifty miles away. Then he had a thought to save everyone. If the Princess would run away from Bow, she might reach the border and safety. He ran to her and tugged on her shoulder as the conscience tugs on the soul.
“Princess Joanna,” he said with urgency.
Princess Joanna froze. No one would dare touch her without permission, let alone tug on her! She was about to scold him when she realized that there might be immediate danger at hand.
“What is it?”
“I was ordered by your stepmother to take you to this field and kill you. She fears that you will challenge her for the throne.”
Her eyes darted to his bow strapped across his back and she stepped away from him.
“I must advise you to run, run to the north as the Kingdom of Ott is but fifty miles from here and there the Queen has many enemies. She will not be able to find you. Trust no one. Now take off your cape.”
His mind thought of a plan to cut out a heart from a deer to take to the Queen as she required him to bring the Princess’ heart back as proof of her death.
“Thank you,” Princess Joanna said.
She realized the danger she was in as she took off her royal cape to give to him then dashed into the forest adjacent to the hilly meadow. She touched velvety moss on a tree and headed towards the north. She imagined the army would search for her relentlessly if he failed to convince the Queen she died.
She ran for the first few miles on the hard dirt then she walked. The forest smelled of decayed leaves where spiders and bugs crawled near her feet. Plants penetrated every space in the woods as green thriving examples of the reign of God.
Princess Joanna moved away from civilization. The ferns on the ground caught her silk dress until she lifted it up. She ran again, but the path became overgrown and more difficult. The fate she traveled towards held uncertainty like her kingdom; power stripped, gutted, and removed from her. Still, she was alive. Joanna could not predict if the nation would be broken by her stepmother.
*
The Queen waited alone near the statues in the rose garden. As she waited, she paced and her royal gown became caught on a white rose bush. Her fine silk gown trapped her to the bush. She snapped the rose in half and left it on the ground. She wondered why the hunter took so long to return. She longed to remove all obstacles in her path; the shadow of apprehension stifled her until the task was complete. To her relief, he approached carrying a cape and a box.
“You're late!” she said.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He bowed a low bow. “It took longer than I planned. This is her cape.”
He handed her the cape and the box. The Queen took it, looked inside, and smiled.
“You may go, but tell no one or I will tell my Commander in the Royal Services to hunt you down and kill you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Queen.” He bowed to her and left her in the cultivated garden.
The garden unleashed flowering spring tulips in rows of red and yellow. The gardens contained an assortment of green bushes. A hawk landed on a round lilac bush which caused a rabbit to dart out from underneath and run into the thicker bushes on the other side of the garden.
A wind blew and the scattered trees bent at its command. The fresh breeze lifted the Princess’ cape up as the Queen held it. She smiled at the thought of her victory; no more would the Princess challenge her authority.
The Queen felt invincible. Her power became complete. Her smile faded as she thought of informing the staff of the death. The Queen walked back to her castle and the trees’ shadows cast dark spots against the grass. She reached the bronze castle door and she passed two guards who bowed to their Queen.
“I need to see General Stuart,” the Queen said.
“As you desire, Your Majesty.”
The soldier hurried past the main hall in which paintings hung like recollections. The paintings of the Tower family kings lined the walls. A painting of a budding garden with a tree above the animals was larger than the others. The lines ran together to make the tree seem alive like the paintings of the Princess’ family made the castle seem alive.
The Queen followed her soldier into the Grand Room in the heart of the palace. She put the cape down on an oak bench and stood near the fireplace covered with green marble. She saw her reflection in the mirror which rested on the mantel. Her face had aged, but her lovely high cheeks fitted her regal birth.
The fire flared as it devoured the wooden logs and the Queen looked at her box. A drop of blood sat on the keyhole. She threw it in the fireplace and the fire reacted by shrinking, but then it overtook the box — its flames grew mammoth. In an instant, what had been was no more.
The Queen sat at a desk and took out paper, her long fingers separating the pieces, and wrote a letter to explain the death of the Princess.
General Stuart wondered why the Queen would summon him, but his duty was to advise then follow her command. The hallway, thin and tall like a forest canopy of pines, echoed his steps and the muffled sounds of doors closing in other parts of the castle seemed to indicate excitement. He approached her and bowed to his Queen.
The Queen glanced at her General. She wondered what the man, his silver hair short and his dark uniform fitting his strong frame, would say when he heard the news. He was fond of the Princess the Queen acknowledged, but she knew he would follow her command as she understood the workings of her military.
“Your Royal Highness, you wanted to see me,” Stuart stated.
“Yes.” The Queen stopped writing and stood up.
The General did not allow himself to be swept away by the willowy woman whose vibrant voice compelled others to action. He refused to make the same mistakes of other commanders as he was the Superior Commander responsible for the well-being of the kingdom and his judgment must reflect the truth.
She said, “I have been informed by my hunter that the Princess was attacked by wolves and she died.”
“No!” His posture slumped at the news. Then Stuart added, “When and how?”
General Stuart needed to sit from the shock but didn't dare. Memories of Princess Joanna replayed in his head and he regretted he did not accompany her that morning.
“It happened when the hunter took her out for a morning exercise. She traveled into the woods near the meadow. By the time he reached her, some wild animals had killed her. There is her cape.” She pointed to the bench.
Stuart felt the heat of the fire, which was almost unbearable, as a bead of sweat rolled down his neck.
“Where did he place the body?” Stuart saw the Princess' cape, but he wanted more proof.
The Queen turned away from him as she spoke. “The attack left little remains of the Princess and he buried her before the birds of prey devoured her corpse.”
“May I send out a search party to confirm his account?” Stuart stepped toward the fireplace as if to make her face him.
“Not at this time. We must prepare for the funeral. We will need to inform the other Royals.” The Queen faced him as if she complied with his thoughts.
“We must tell her subjects quickly,” he said.
Stuart tried to understand what happened. He disliked the Queen and his shock gave way to suspicion. Still, he swore an oath to her. It was the same oath he took when her husband was alive.
“We will wait to inform them. We will allow the capital city of Pantor to mourn first, and then we will inform my subjects of the Princess' death. We must keep order. There will be no uprisings or distant kings coming to rule our kingdom.”
The Queen studied General Stuart.
“As you order.” Stuart bowed.
“You are dismissed,” the Queen said.
The Queen took the cape to the planning room and informed the Minister of the Kingdom of the terrible news. Then she asked to be left alone to grieve.
The official left her and the Queen looked out the large window and rejoiced. She planted her hand on the glass with her fingers spread open. The castle window overlooked the town of Pantor and its majestic cobbled streets. Beyond the gate many people began their morning unaware that the heir to the throne was not in the castle.
The Queen would silence any who opposed her and reward those who supported her. She planned to make Pantor the most envied city in all the kingdoms. She would restore beauty to the city neglected by her late husband’s lenient ways towards the common people. She pictured in the city square a marble statue of herself and generations of children would pay homage to it. Her joy overwhelmed her, except the Queen felt a quiver in her hand. She thought it strange.
General Stuart made his way out of the Great Hall to the narrow corridor and passed an empty room. The statues stood in the room waiting to be catalogued. The Queen planned to redecorate again. He made for the front entrance of the castle and the other soldiers. He almost told them the news, but he spotted another room off the main entrance — a small chapel. Stuart slipped inside to pray.