Sweet
“My Liege”
Said the tired and weak man, with spent spirit. On his knees he went, with weariness and not fealty.
Clad in armor from skull to toe, only chipped in places where the Liege had struck… it still shone bright, even after months of war, much like the shameless arrogance of the man himself.
His helm, once sparked the proud sigil of the Emperor of the lands, now held firmly beneath the boots of the Liege. His sword, once a symbol of prestige now fiddled by the Liege’s soldiers, scraping the hard blood and grime off their boots.
He was brought up by a hundred chambermaids and manservants, never batted an eyelid, moved a muscle. Born in a mile high castle… Velvet below, gold above… Higher than his subjects, higher than God.
And now, he trembles with fear and shame, staring at the grounds of the very castle that once housed his dignity.
The Liege smiled, after many moons. “What an unfamiliar sensation, has it really been so long?”. The Liege had spent years in the same castle, walking the same gardens, sharing the same high seat, and… to much much chagrin… the same bed. But it could never bring the same joy, as it did to its former Emperor.
The Liege was happy, she was finally happy.
He said again, whimpering, swerving his frightened gaze up and down post-haste .
“My Liege”
“My Liege”
She said, as she fell on his feet. Wailing and begging for a slight glimpse of mercy.
He was salivating from the mouth, eyes dyed wine red, drenched in power and unprecedented monarchy.
He kicked her away, laughing maniacally, as he continued hacking and slashing her brothers, sisters and young borns.
Her husband was the first to go, as much as she could recall. Her memory was fainting speedily. Everything was moving too fast… turning red and black. She couldn’t evade the last memory of her husband. The lips, moving ever so slightly, but the dead white eyes. Why were the eyes pale white?
She remembered more… the whinnying of the horses, the wild triumphant guffaw of the enemy soldiers, the cadaver, the pike and finally the head.
Never had she felt a pain so sharp, so swift that it even ripped out the grief – leaving behind a hollow shell, a lifeless canister, a memory of what once was and never will be.
After days of plunder, rape, arson and murder he, and his handful of vassals and henchmen, finally left. As a token of triumph, slaves were taken, so many slaves till the town was only left with the old, broken and sickly. She was one of the slaves. His personal favorite, hand-picked for his pleasures.
Still grief-stricken, she followed suit and joined the queue of slaves, slowly getting dragged in the muddy tracks.
He looked at her with a wicked grin, “I like you, I will find you a right place in my kingdom”
She said nothing.
He dismounted, approached her and pulled her hair back, and repeated himself with an addition, “... you will answer me when spoken to, and you will address me as ‘My Liege’”
“Yes… My Liege”, quivering lips spoke, gasping for air, courage and hope.
And suddenly, like a wish granted, the hollow shell of her body was filled with grief – a small moment of melancholy followed by a silent shriek, remembering her husband – then the grief escaped, now replaced by anger, the paleness flushed and she steamed hot with turbulent blood – then finally arrived calm vengeance, a plot, a hope, a pathway to retribution. The thought of it made her, ever so slightly, smile.
“Good”, he said, “I am glad this appeases you, you will make a great addition to my coterie”
With an unfazed gaze and an undithered motive, she replied -
“My Liege”
“My Liege”
She said calmly as he climbed on top of her, slithering like a cunning snake, vicious in his movements, and vile in his desire, building up the poison.
“Y-Y-Yes, yes, I am your L-L-Liege”
He spluttered, driving his ravenous organ inside her, craving for her innocence to be beguiled… itching for her to be bewitched by his manliness. He shook like a plague ridden dog, sweating, panting, howling.
He swung. He writhed. He finished.
She got up and cleaned herself up. She looked out of the jewel and garland studded window, the palace was lit up with celebration, it was a betrothal after all. She remembered her wedding night, in her small town. It was nothing like this, she remembered much less flowers, much less jewels, but there was joy… and fulfillment.
She glanced out the window. The kingdom was lour and gloomy.
She knew this, she knew the kingdom frowned and spat at their Emperor, behind his back. A kingdom of slaves, bandits and vagabonds – all of whom had their homes wrenched away from them, their loved ones murdered and made one with the dust.
She looked at him, drunk and collapsed in his virile achievement.
She looked out the window again. “None of these slaves could ever make it to the palace chambers, but I have. I am overlooking everyone, even the Emperor”, she thought as she sipped sweet red wine from an adorned goblet. “Wonder who he murdered to steal this wine?”, she thought. She put the goblet away, it tasted like blood now.
She could kill him right then, make a run through the castle halls, leap the palisades and disappear amongst the vagabonds and slaves. Then what? Starve and shiver through the nights, sleep in the filthy streets like a derelict just to wake up the next day to see a grand cortege, mourning the Emperor and celebrating his life?
She could live her life on the streets, ultimately contracting an unknown sickness, slowly rotting away in the city ditch while he gets a giant golden effigy to immortalize him.
“No” she thought, “Not this way”
A tap on the door broke her chain of thought. She opened the door, and slid outside.
“My Queen, my apologies. I have news. Does he sleep?” The man outside asked. The Queen’s personal guard, an old, well built man, another slave who made it to the palace.
She nodded.
The old man looked around.
“May he lay senseless forever. The commander’s sons plead allegiance to your cause, they offer men. Many strong men. They will remain silent under the veil till your orders…”
“Excellent”
“My lady. He still outnumbers us, ten times at least. Be it wise to proceed? We have more mouths and ears in the kingdom now. What if we are revealed?”
She smiled at the old man. She was no stranger to doubts and judgements.
“We were outnumbered twenty times yesterday, thirty a month ago, hundred a year back.”
The old man calmed down and took a long breath. He was content. He smiled back and bowed to take his leave.
“My Queen… and by the gods, very soon”
He continued…
“...My Liege”
“My Liege”
“Must it come to this?” A wise smile on his defeated face, “I have friends beyonds the oceans, the mountains. We can foster a great relationship!”
“You use that with such… thoughtlessness” She spoke for the first time.
“Use… U-Use what?”
“The phrase ‘My Liege’... how does it feel?”
He was silent.
“How does it feel when you say it?”
He remained tongue-tied.
“The corpse of my dear husband feeds my village grounds. Weeds and wanton vines now crawl endlessly over his remains. His hollow head is a shelter to worms. My brothers and sisters are but ghosts in the fields, scaring the crows. I left them behind, I walked with you and called you ‘My Liege’. Do you know how I felt?”
He remained still as a pillar.
“It envenomed me with shame. Every last drop of love and happiness was siphoned out of me. I lived but I was dead. My only desire was to see you squirm in pain like a trout choking on air, like Prometheus getting his liver devoured by the eagle, everyday, for the rest of time. I did not want you dead, I wanted to be that eagle.”
“My body is tainted, it turned evil and sacrilegious the day you touched me. I stabbed my wound three times that night to ensure I never bear your progeny. There was blood everywhere, even the healers were aghast but the gods saw to it that I live. Despite such brimming pain and abhorrence, I still walked beside you and called you ‘My Liege’. Do you know how I felt?”
He was turning pale, with shame and shock.
“I felt the devil playing in my spoiled wound. Every passing day I felt it getting bigger and bigger, till today, when he is finally ready to devour you whole. I felt pulled down by the weight in my belly. I had to foster evil to end your evil. This devil is my vengeance, this devil is my child, I gave my blood to it and even after you are gone, I will live with it.”
There was silence everywhere except for a few distant roars in the kingdom as the usurper was announced.
“The Slave Queen… Praise the Slave Queen!… Liberation! Freedom!”
“So what now? How do you wish to end me, exact your revenge?” he asked.
“I don’t”, she said as she slowly approached the empty throne, “You do not understand. I don’t want to kill you”
She gently caressed the armrest of the beautifully ornate chair, “This moment marks the beginning of my vengeance – To see the arrogance sucked out of your armor. To witness your soul crushed in your helm. Death will not come so easily to you, oh no, your life now is my avengement.” She took seat on the throne, a gale of emotions hit her, but primarily, it was the contentment.
Bemused and amok, he tried to get up, but was held down by her soldiers. Another company of soldiers charged through the main door.
“Take him away”, she commanded.
“W-What? W-Where? Withdraw your traitorous hands!”, he squealed.
“Oh Don’t worry”, she leaned back, the arch of the throne fit her well. She sheathed her sword. crossed her legs and breathed in the fecund air of dominance, “I like you… I will find you a right place in my kingdom.”
A year had passed.
Thievery and poverty were a thing of the past. The kingdom was now thriving. The old slaves now held positions of powers, their possessions restored.
She became a stalwart figure of omnipotence. She took no man for a King, bore no one’s child. She adopted orphans – the victims of the kingdom's pillaging past – as vassals, cupbearers, even possible heirs.
Dusk was near, it’s when she would go out for her daily visit. She knew where she was headed – the steps outside the temple – where he was always found.
Friendless, dejected, with a despair-shaped dagger struck in his heart. He was half the size now, and lost most of his hair, if not all. He had lost sense in his legs – some say he tried to kill himself by leaping off a bridge. But it was a weak attempt and the townsfolk didn’t let him die.
“Death will not come so easily to you, oh no, your life now is my avengement.” The Queen’s word is the kingdom’s command.
She climbed the steps and found him staring at the sunset, with a pale, blank expression. She sat next to him and placed three things, slowly, one after the other.
First, A Flask of Water… He grabbed the flask and emptied it within a moment’s time.
Second, A Raw Lamb Shank… He clawed and chewed the raw meat, drooling from the sides of his mouth like an uncultured boor.
And finally… Third, A Shining Dagger with the Queen’s sigil on the hilt…
There were no sudden movements this time.
He looked at the queen, with tears in his eyes. She kept smiling, looking at the resplendent sunset. Not a wrinkle of concern on her face.
He snatched the dagger and swiftly brought it close to his neck… but he stopped… He did not have the nerve… courage was never his strong suit and she knew that well.
“A few more inches, damn it!” he thought
She smiled a little more, as though she heard.
A quick look at the hilt, the Queen’s name shone in a golden red hue under the slant rays of the sleeping son.
“Death will not come so easily to you, your life is my avengement.” The curse, the judgment, the first and last words of the demon child of vengeance.
His hands weakened and the dagger fell on the steps, with a loud crash. She picked up the dagger and packed it neatly in its sheath.
“Maybe tomorrow” she said, unconcerned, as she started her descent down the steps.
He began to sob uncontrollably.
The winds were stirring a tempest… the orchestra of trees howled a requiem… as the sun lowered the curtains on the Emperor’s tragedy.
For what is new for you, the world has lived aeons ago.Time brings all heavens to dust, for what is old for you, the world has awakened for it now.
ReplyDelete