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The Queen’s Alternative
by
Ofavon
(The prompt was a painting of a Queen, flanked by a guard on her right and a scribe, reading a scroll, on her left.)
“By the authority vested in me by his Majesty King Potsdam of Lower Lumbago,
you are to be escorted to the Tower, Madam. There you will remain ‘til the
moon passes through two phases of the wandering planets and await execution by
beheading on the eve of Ascension Day.”
Her Majesty sighed, and under her breath she muttered, “So the old fool went
ahead and did it.” She wished this scribe did not have bad breath, as he
intoned the fateful words, the odor of garlic filled her chamber.
On her right side, the castle guard stood by stoically. Like all the others
in the court, he knew the reason for the King’s displeasure with the Queen. She
had not yet conceived! Unforgivable! Imagine ... five Queens and the House of
Potsdam was without an heir to the throne. There were some at court who
suspected the King himself was to blame, but no one dared speak it aloud, yet it
was patently absurd to believe that five Queens had been infertile. Like the old
fairy tale of the fictional Emperor unaware of not wearing clothes - no one
dared mention the fact.
The scribe droned on, describing in detail the method of execution -- he was
an old hand at such matters, he had read these pronouncements to four previous
queens and countless other members of the Royal entourage who had roused the
King’s displeasure.
As he spoke, the Queen counted the days on her fingers. “Two phases of the
wandering planets,” she considered, “Hmm, a little more than two months ...
well, all was not lost ... there was an outside chance.” She cast a measured
glance at the castle guard to her right - young, virile man - would he be
discreet?
The scribe was now finished. He rolled up his decree and turned to the castle
guard. “You will stay with Madam until the escort arrives,” he said.
The door closed behind him as he waddled out carrying his scroll and garlic
laden breath with him. The Queen looked at the castle guard once more. “Young
man,” she said throatily. “We don’t have much time, let me tell you what you
must do.”
The End
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