The Prince in the Looking Glass
Short Story
by Stephen Collicoat
I paused to listen.
Two horses were approaching at full gallop. Scarcely had I registered
this, than they appeared, bearing down at furious speed. I threw myself
back as they passed: manes flying, eyes rolling, their iron-shod hooves
clattering on the pebbled track. In seconds, they were out of sight,
but their wild stampede echoed through the forest as I ran back toward my
home.
These were not ordinary horses - tired hacks, whose feeble strength my
peasant neighbors harnessed to draw carts, plough fields or endlessly
circle, turning stone wheels to grind wheat or barley into coarse flour.
These were strong, graceful and intelligent animals - steeds that
carried armored knights. Brave creatures that charged into battle, then
stood resolutely as their riders hacked or bludgeoned each other in
screaming, blood-drenched fury.
What was worse, the riderless horses carried the King's colors. The
saddle of one - a black stallion - was smeared with blood: a large stain
spreading through the woven cloth, dappling the coat of a snarling lion.
Father's in danger, I thought, running hard. How did the King find us?
Here, far from the castle, eking out an obscure existence at the
furthest corner of the land my father once ruled, we thought ourselves safe.
For 20 years, father's half-brother had scoured the countryside. At the
start of each year, we hoped that finally he would abandon his insane
quest, but each week brought news of fresh atrocities. Like a rabid dog,
the King had set villages alight on faint rumor they offered us
shelter, torturing any who may know where we hid. Yet all these rumors were
false - jealous neighbors settling old scores. We had not ventured beyond
our safe haven for many years.
I thought my father was sought. I was wrong. King Severitus feared the
baby smuggled to safety through secret passages decades ago would one
day claim his throne.
'I know you don't seek the throne,' my father said only three days
before. 'I understand you feel leadership's a heavy, perhaps intolerable
burden. It's natural, given your gentle temperament, you prefer to live
among these good folk, enjoying nature.
'But,' he sighed, 'Consider your duty. Think of those put to the sword
or screaming on the rack. Many in the early days died to protect us.
They yearned to free our land. Will their sacrifice mean nothing? Will
the realm ever be rid of this tyrant?'
'Father,' I cried in agony. 'Not a day passes but I don't think of
children herded into churches and set alight, of women raped, of young men
whose every bone is crushed, yet what you ask is hard - too hard.'
I could see my father struggling to maintain his patience. Finally, he
said softly. 'You must live with your conscience, but remember while
Severitus lives, your life will always be in danger. The decision to
remain here may not be yours. I sense a time coming when you must meet your
enemy like a man or wait till he kills you in your bed.'
Surely, my father would not have betrayed our hiding place to force me
into action. Rubbish, I thought, ashamed at my unworthy suspicion.
I shared much with my father, but I never told him of the Quiet Tree.
Two years before, I had been mushrooming in the forest when I was
caught in a heavy downpour. I sheltered in a hollow tree - a great oak that
had been gutted by lightning. It was warm within the dead tree. Peeling
off my sodden clothes, I lay down in the soft dust and fell asleep. I
woke to the sound of my name. 'Justus,' I heard a woman call. As I
listened, the soft voice faded and I heard only the steady drizzle of the
rain and the heavy creaking of the limbs of the tree in which I
sheltered. As I lay there, naked as a babe, the sweet, low voice spoke again. It
was a voice I recalled from when I was a baby. To my inexpressible joy,
I realised my mother's spirit spoke to me.
That afternoon, she spoke of her life: the hopes my father and she
shared on ascension to the throne. She sorrowed how the pretender and his
henchman, the black wizard, Malbane, had dashed these fine plans.
'A King may battle foes at his gate,' mother reflected, 'but how can he
guard against the stab in the back?'
News had reached my father of enemies laying siege to a town far from
the castle. He worried about leaving his wife and baby son, but his half
brother; Severitus assured him they would be safe under his care.
Father rode out with a company of his bravest and most trusted knights.
After several days hard riding, they reached the town only to find the
marauders had fled. This puzzled father who immediately turned for home.
Only later was he to realize this was a plan cooked up by Severitus,
Malbane and the scheming courtier, Cankerbow.
With father and most of his able supporters absent, the trio struck.
Archers were posted above a track that led through a narrow pass in the
mountains to the castle. Father's party was in sight of home, joyous to
return, when they were ambushed in a hail of poisoned arrows. Within
minutes, knights and horses lay dead or dying. The only man to escape was
father who sheltered beneath his horse's carcass. As soldiers
approached to loot their victims, my father rose with a terrifying yell.
Slashing his way through the astonished men, he escaped into the forest.
After the first rush of vitality, he swiftly weakened, stumbling on,
bloody and confused until finally he collapsed, falling into a deep
sleep. He was found next morning by a family of woodcutters, who carried him
to their cottage. For five days, father lay in fever, babbling he must
return to the castle to save his wife and child, other times cursing
the day Severitus was born. When father recovered, the woodcutter
suggested his son take a cartful of logs to the castle to gather news. When
the young man returned, an old crone was sitting beside him on the cart,
nursing a baby. Reaching the cottage, the 'crone' threw off her
disguise to reveal my nursemaid. She had smuggled me to safety and had been
hiding, waiting for news. Father was overjoyed at my rescue, but
horrified to learn mother had been brutally abused before being strangled, her
naked body then tossed into the courtyard for dogs to feast.
'Your father swore a terrible oath that my death would be avenged,'
mother told me. 'Yet, what could he do? He had no armies left and hiding
seemed the only way to protect you. Shortly, after your father left the
woodcutter's cottage, Nonya - the loyal nursemaid - was captured, but
died under torture, rather than betray the woodcutter's family. Sadly,
all of these loyal subjects have since died from the plague.
'Although he never realised it, my spirit followed your father into
hiding. A thousand times, I've tried to make my presence known to either
of you without success. I also worried that if I visited you in your
home, Malbane would find it. I know he uses magic to watch me.
Fortunately, it isn't all the time and sometimes I can use my feeble powers to
cloud his vision. Even now, he senses we're talking and is raging like a
lunatic because he can't tell where we are or what I'm saying. We're
safe at present, but his power grows.
'You also possess magic power. It runs in my side of the family. You
were unaware of this power, but soon you must use it.'
The voice grew softer, starting to fade into the rattle of wet leaves
and the rain's whisper.
'I sought refuge in this tree, hoping one day you'd find me. I'll stay
here until my work is done. I may not always speak when you call.
Sometimes, I'll feel Malbane's eyes on me. It's very tiring to be dead. All
you wish is to close your eyes and sleep for ten thousand years, but
I'll help until your magic is strong enough. Visit me often and always
take care. Farewell, my son.'
I returned to the place I call 'The Quiet Tree' many times over the
next two years. Although I heard only scattered words or broken phrases, I
always sensed her presence as I poured out my hopes and fears. Only
minutes after leaving the Quiet Tree, I heard the horses.
As I broke through the forest and into the clearing by my home, my
right foot kicked a solid, round object that rolled away. To my horror, I
saw it was a human head. Further on, I saw the severed body in a large
pool of blood. Horses' hooves had trampled through the pool, smearing
blood through the grass and onto the track leading through the woods.
From the awkward lie of the body, I reasoned, the man had been dismounting
when he was attacked. I drew the dead man's sword from its scabbard and
hurried forward.
The front door of the cottage had been thrust open, but all was quiet
within. That there had been only two horsemen was hopeful. If Severitus
had found my father by design, he would have sent a company of soldiers
to drag us off in chains. Unfortunately, two men wearing the King's
colors and riding without escort suggested a sinister possibility. A
glance at the clothes worn by the decapitated man confirmed my fears. This
was surely Cankerbow, the clever and wicked chamberlain whose network of
spies and informers made every man distrust his neighbor. Where there
was Cankerbow, one expected Cramcraw, the King's greedy and brutal son.
'A fine day's hunting,' was the way Cramcraw would describe the rape,
pillage and murder of some hapless peasant family - crimes the two
practiced with impunity.
Controlling my fear, I gripped the sword and entered the cottage.
Cramcraw, one of the fiercest fighters in the kingdom lay across the hearth,
his stomach torn open. A trail of blood led to my father's bedroom.
Father lay dying on his bed. I cradled him in my arms, stroking his
beloved head and pleading for him to live. He struggled to speak. Putting my
ear close to his lips, I heard him whisper, 'I waited until you came.
Now, I can die. Forgive me, I lost our kingdom and was never able to
regain it. Only you can do this.' With that, my father sighed, closed his
eyes and passed away.
'I sat there, weeping for what must have been hours,' I told my mother.
I heard no sound inside the Quiet Tree, but sensed she heard every
word. 'Finally, I buried the bodies and cleaned the cottage. It took a long
time to scrub away all the blood.
'I can't imagine how an old man like father could have killed those
two. It was probably pure accident they came to the cottage and father,
recognizing them had the advantage of surprise. Is this a sign telling me
I must claim my birthright or die trying?'
'What will you do?' mother's voice came, soft as the rustling of dead
leaves.
'I can't stay here,' I decided, 'As soon as Severitus realizes his son
isn't returning, he'll hunt me down. I must prevent hundreds, perhaps
thousands of innocents dying.'
'He already knows,' mother said. 'Malbane sensed their deaths and
called up their spirits. Severitus is gathering a company of knights to
track you down.'
'Then how can I defeat him? I haven't a single knight to call on. I'll
be arrested long before I reach the palace.'
'The palace,' mother repeated thoughtfully. 'Yes, that's the key.
Confront Severitus where he doesn't expect you - in the palace.'
'Hopeless! The first guard who sees me will kill me.'
'If they see you. It's time to draw on your magic.'
'What magic?' I demanded. 'I can't fly through the air like an arrow or
disappear from sight in a puff of smoke.
'Poor father,' I reflected bitterly 'He left me a hopeless task. No
money, no army and an empty promise of magic. Indeed,' I continued,
drawing out his scarf, 'This is the only thing of his I took.' I stroked the
soft wool with a sigh, before thrusting it back in my pocket. 'A dagger
would have been more use. At least I could have saved Severitus the
bother of killing me!'
'That's fool's talk! Stand up and walk to the back of the tree.'
Surprised, I did as mother commanded. 'Now, knock on the wood three
times and command it to open.'
As I did, a door swung open in the wood. Behind the door, in a narrow
cavity stood a tall mirror.
'It's only a looking glass,' I objected.
'Must you always complain and see the dark side of everything?' mother
asked in exasperation. 'I believe you have the magic, but it will only
come if you stop doubting yourself. Now, look in the mirror and tell me
what you see.'
'What is there to see except myself?' I puzzled, then paused for behind
my reflection, I saw a beautiful woman, her tall figure appearing and
melting away as though wreathed in smoke.
'Mother,' I started, turning from the glass, but seeing noone behind
me.
'Keep looking in the mirror! Don't look at me. Concentrate with all
your might. Can you see a room?'
'I can't,' I faltered. 'Wait! There's something. It's becoming clearer.
Yes, a room. A bedroom, full of fine tapestries and gold inlaid
furniture. Is this the King's bedchamber?'
A middle-aged man dressed in armor appeared in the frame. He glared at
me, but I realised he was only scowling at his appearance.
'Severitus,' I breathed. Finally, I had seen the face of my enemy.
Recalling how he had ruined so many lives, I shook with rage.
'The magic has found you,' mother said triumphantly. 'Now, you must
step into the looking glass. You now possess the power to step into or
from any mirror you choose. Go and face your enemy. Surprise and the
strength of youth are on your side but you face an experienced and wily
foe. Go! I pray for you.'
Saying this, I sensed mother leaving me.
Severitus stepped away from the frame and I saw him cross to a window,
throw open the casement and shout something to his knights assembling
below. I stepped into the looking glass.
I found myself, not in the King's chamber, but in a huge, cold palace,
it's walls lined with many mirrors. Men, women or children, many in
strange costumes stood, sat or could be fleetingly glimpsed in the frames.
Many of the things I saw that day are not fit to record, and I felt
ashamed observing people when they imagined they acted in privacy. Yes,
there were touching scenes of love and loss, but I also witnessed abject
terror, blind hate and unbridled lust.
I hurried through room after room and down the winding corridors of the
Palace of Mirrors. Thinking myself alone, I was startled by the distant
figure of a young woman. I called to her, but she fled into one of the
mirrors. I briefly puzzled about the mysterious stranger, but forgot
her when I suddenly saw the mirror leading into the King's room. I boldly
stepped through the glass into the bedchamber.
King Severitus who had been standing by his window, turned and saw me.
'Who are you? How dare you enter the royal presence without
permission?' he bellowed, tugging at his sword. As I stepped closer, the light
from the window fell on my face and he gasped. 'Wait, I think I know you.
You are so like your father. You must be Justus. How did you get in
here?'
'Yes, I'm Justus,' I nodded, then flung myself on my enemy before he
could recover from his surprise. I grasped his wrist before he could draw
his sword further. I thought I had no weapon other than my fists or
feet, but suddenly remembered my father's scarf, which I had thrust into
my pocket. With my free hand, I drew it from my pocket and spun the King
around so I was behind him. Throwing the scarf over his head I let go
of his wrist and with both hands tightened the scarf, violently pulling
Severitus back toward me, using the scarf as a garrote. He fought with
desperate strength, but I was younger, stronger and filled with hate.
'Guards,' he shouted, before his breath was stifled. I heard the handle
rattle then a series of heavy blows as they tried to break open the
locked door.
One final spasm and the King sank in my arms and I knew he was dead.
The door crashed open and five armed men rushed into the room.
'What have you done?' one wailed in fear as he frantically tried to
revive Severitus. Another, clearly their captain, glanced down at the
body, taking in the King's bulging eyes, purple skin and black, lolling
tongue. 'Leave him!' he commanded. 'It's too late.' He turned to me and
demanded roughly. 'Who are you, peasant? How did you get past the Watch?
Who did you bribe? Answer me, before I strap you on the rack.'
I had hoped that having killed the King, I might have time to step back
to safety through the mirror to plan my next move, but the men grouped
tightly around made that impossible. I shrugged. If I was to die, I
consoled myself; at least I had avenged my father's death and cleansed the
land of a tyrant. Boldness seemed the wisest course.
'I am Justus, your new King,' I said coolly. I was nearly as surprised
as the soldiers when I uttered these fateful words. I hadn't wanted to
be King, but having claimed the throne, it suddenly seemed the most
natural thing in the world.
'Justus, son of...' the captain faltered.
'A cutthroat more like,' the soldier who had been bending over the
King's body, rose with a snarl, drawing his sword with a hiss of steel and
advancing.
'Wait!' the captain stayed his hand. He turned to me, 'What of Cramcraw
and Cankerbow?'
'Both killed by my father, the rightful King.'
The soldier roared, pushing aside his captain's restraining hand. His
leader lashed out with his mailed fist, sending the man unconscious to
the ground. 'Don't you see,' he appealed to his men, 'with those three
madmen dead, we finally have a chance of fair rule: a chance that our
estates will be returned.'
The guards argued softly among themselves, unwilling to let me hear.
After several minutes of vigorous argument, they nodded agreement. The
captain dropped to one knee in front of me, paying homage.
'Sire,' he began. 'Please accept the service of myself and my fellow
knights. We offer you the throne that was always yours by right.'
'I accept,' I responded gladly, 'and promise to do all in my power to
resolve your grievances, providing that's also fair to the people.'
I was then escorted from the bedchamber, noting from the corner of my
eye, the body of Severitus being carted away. News of the succession
spread quickly and as I descended the stairs, knights, courtiers and
servants crowded forward to catch their first glimpse of their new monarch,
greeting me with wild applause. Among all this adulation however, a
problem remained.
'Where is Malbane?' I demanded of the captain, struggling to make
myself heard above the tumult. 'I want him arrested.'
'His rooms are at the far end of the castle, Your Highness. I'll bring
him to you.'
'Well?' I asked impatiently when he returned empty handed.
'He's in his study, Majesty. I can hear movement, but my men can't
break down the door.'
'Then use a battering ram!'
'We have Sire, but each time the ram hits the door, agonizing pain
shoots through each soldiers' arms.'
'He's placed a spell on the door,' I considered. 'You'll never get
through. Leave the problem with me. I know how to enter the room.'
Returning alone to the King's - no, my bedchamber, I stepped into the
mirror and began searching for Malbane's room. Within minutes, I was
standing by a frame that showed a study with shelf after shelf of dusty
books, rising to the tall ceiling. In the center of the room was a
laboratory bench, crammed with flasks, their vivid liquids bubbling and
spitting away on naked flames, while scattered around the bench were the
obscene dissections of various creatures and I suspect, though I swiftly
turned away in disgust, sections of a human baby.
Close to the bench, standing by a reading desk was a tall, old man,
frantically turning the pages of a large book. Finding the details of some
horrible spell, he began to chant. At first, I feared the spell was
directed against me, but perhaps my magic protected me because this wasn't
what Malbane intended. As he moved his arms he looked like a large
bird, an impression strengthened by the wide sleeves of the loose, black
and star-spangled cloak that the wizard wore.
I hadn't brought a weapon with me, knowing that a wizard powerful
enough to cast a spell over a door would laugh at the puny attack of a sword
or musket ball. Should I step unprotected into the wizard's den?
As I stood there undecided, I noticed among the many tomes on alchemy,
anatomy and the composition of poisons were a number of black-spined
books, which I realised were forbidden works on witchcraft. Malbane left
his reading desk, pacing the room, pausing occasionally by his open
casement window. As he did, his arms rising and falling like the wings of
a great bird, I saw to my astonishment the black-spined books stirring
on the shelves. As Malbane's gestures became increasingly impassioned,
the books began to jiggle in a frantic dance. Then one flew off the
bookshelf, its covers spread like wings and circled above the wizard's
head. More joined until the air was filled with flying books, their master
standing untroubled among the swarm. Faster the books flew until the
rectangular covers changed shape, narrowing into wings, the spines
thickening and shaping into the sleek bodies of birds with long, cruel beaks.
Soon all resemblance to books had vanished, leaving birds that would
only nest in the trees of Hell. Reaching the window, one darted out and
the others followed. As they disappeared, I saw Malbane's arms had also
turned to wings. His body shrank and become twisted into a bird and
suddenly he was one with them, joining in flight. Then he too left and the
room fell quiet.
Realizing nothing now stood before me and the throne, I laughed aloud.
'Beware Prince,' a soft voice behind me cautioned. 'You'll face Malbane
again. He isn't defeated: just gathering strength.'
I turned in surprise to face the beautiful young woman I first glimpsed
when I entered the Palace of Mirrors. I now saw she was around 19 years
old and, judging from her clothes, was probably a rich merchant's
daughter. Let those who enjoy finery describe her dress - my eyes found
pleasure rather in the sight of her dark, glossy hair, luminous eyes and
the fine modeling of her features. Seeing me staring in open admiration,
she blushed most prettily and I forced myself to look away.
'Are you a witch?' I blurted, fearing her reply.
She laughed delightedly. 'What a gallant question!' she gently mocked.
'Do I look like some hideous old crone? No, like you, I can walk
through mirrors and live in the land beyond reflection, but that's where my
magic powers end.'
'I am glad to hear it!' I answered heartily 'Who are you and where did
you come from?'
She introduced herself as Caitlin, the only daughter of a rich
merchant. Her story was simple. Some years before, Caitlin's mother died,
leaving her husband and daughter alone. As her father traveled to far lands,
often for months at a time, there was little for Caitlin to do other
than supervise the servants or socialize with her vapid friends. She
spent many hours reading or daydreaming that one day she would meet a
prince who would take her with him to live in some exotic kingdom.
One day, sitting in front of her looking glass, she idly stretched out
her right hand to touch her reflection. To her astonishment, her
fingers sank into the glass. After watching her arm disappear, she stepped
over the mirror's frame to the other side. Caitlin wandered for hours
through the cold Palace of Mirrors. She soon found she could enter or
leave the rooms shown in the mirror and after some close escapes, learned
to be wary. In this way, she visited many countries in a matter of
hours.
At the end of the first day, Caitlin exhausted but happy, decided to
return to her home - her dull, but comfortable life of privilege - before
setting out on further adventures. It was then she found she was
hopelessly lost.
For two years, Caitlin had searched for her mirror. She never found it
or the mirrors of any friends. She lived and slept in the quiet,
airless corridors of the Palace of Mirrors, stealing food from the world
beyond. I was the only person she had seen in the Looking Glass Land and
fearful, I may be a wizard, she had shadowed me until she felt I was safe
to address.
'Why did you kill that man?' Are you a monster?' Caitlin asked. To
answer her, we sat on the floor and talked. I carefully explained who I was
and why I had killed Severitus. Caitlin is a gentle soul and I saw her
flinch at learning the brutality of my world. She is also perceptive
and understanding and I felt swiftly drawn to her. Before long, I wished
to spend the rest of my days with this woman: a partner, who with God's
blessing, I hoped, would become the joint ruler of my kingdom.
Magic, we agreed was an important bond in our love. 'I've often longed
to tell someone in the world beyond of my strange gift,' Caitlin
confessed. 'But I always feared they would think me either a witch or a
lunatic.'
Finally - I cannot say how much time had past, for it moves at a
different rate in that strange place- Caitlin and I stepped through the
mirror into Malbane's chamber. Perhaps not long had passed for hearing the
soldiers still talking behind the door. I called I was coming out then
slid back the bolts. Malbane's spell no longer had power and I was able
to turn the handle without harm.
The soldiers were astonished when the door opened and they found
Malbane gone and in his place Caitlin and myself. I introduced her as my
future bride and their Queen and soon we were walking past row after row of
kneeling knights, curtseying ladies, soldiers and servants. Many
strange rumors have since flourished about my appearance in Severitus'
bedchamber and that of Caitlin in Malbane's study. Some tales are hilarious
such as the suggestion I've transformed Malbane into a beautiful woman
or that Malbane had conjured up Caitlin shortly before his unexplained
disappearance. At first, I considered telling some trusted advisers the
truth but Caitlin shrewdly counseled that the rule of a King and Queen,
thought to be wickens is likely to be safe from human treachery.
Much happened during the next six months, but I shall not tire you with
details. We married and our coronation took place the same day.
Attending both ceremonies was Caitlin's father who I invited to travel from
his far land. Father and daughter were overjoyed to be reunited, neither
expecting to meet again. How my darling explained her disappearance
from her father's house, I can't imagine. I liked the old man (he was almost
50 when I met him) on sight and in time he accepted my invitation to
become Court Treasurer. He has since done much to restore the nation's
and individual prosperity, though much is still needed to repair the
legacy of what people now term 'The Frightful Years'.
For a time, all seemed well. Everywhere I traveled, I was greeted by
cheering crowds and, although I felt embarrassed where some poor old
woman weeping tears of gratitude kissed the stirrup of my horse, I hope
I've remained humble and just. But, just as Caitlin warned, Malbane was
gathering his forces to wreak a terrible revenge.
He chose a day in early Spring when Caitlin and I, together with some
court officials, trusted knights and some thirty sailors set forth on a
three month journey to the Kingdom of Thalassa. I hoped to forge strong
bonds between our suspicious neighbor and my land that would open up
new trade routes, bringing prosperity to both realms.
On the third night of our voyage, we anchored offshore unwilling to
attempt crossing the treacherous Straits of Messina at night. I could hear
the sullen, distant roar as the sea crashed over the sharp rocks on
either side of the narrow, deep channel. On board, all was quiet, save for
the creak of masts, lap of waves and muffled voices of the cooks
preparing the evening meal. Caitlin and I walked the deck as dusk fell;
enjoying our time together, for once not concerned with matters of State.
Lulled by the peaceful moment, I let down my guard.
Caitlin began to say something when she was interrupted by a call from
Gaenid, the 17-year old youth posted high in the ship's rigging in the
'crow's nest'.
'Your Majesty,' he warned. 'Something approaches in the sky. I can't
make out...'
Then he screamed and began frantically begging 'No! No!' his voice now
disappearing beneath the saw of wings.
'Stand back!' a sailor yelled, 'He's falling!'
As he spoke, Gaenid's body hurtled down to crash on the deck. Glancing
up, I saw what appeared to be a black cloud forming and breaking apart
around the main mast.
The sailors gathered around the youth's broken body. There was a gasp
of horror and one cried, 'His eyes, oh his eyes!'
Caitlin pushed the men aside and stood quietly looking at what a minute
before had been the youth's open, smiling countenance and was now a
sightless, bloody mask.
'He's been pecked to death by birds,' she said in quiet awe.
'It's Malbane,' I started. 'Quick! Everyone, take cover below decks and
we'll batten down the hatches.'
Scarcely, had Caitlin, the ship's captain, courtiers, sailors, knights
and myself tumbled down the stairs in the hold than we heard the birds'
beaks thrust and gouging at the wooden planks of the deck. A scream
rose above the heavy drum of beaks, then another and another.
We looked at each other in ghastly understanding. 'Open the hatches!'
the captain commanded. Some poor devils are still out there! We must
save them.'
'No!' I countermanded his order. 'Open a hatch and we'll all die.' The
screams died. 'Besides,' I added, 'It's too late.'
There was a chilled silence until the Captain spoke. 'What shall we do,
Sire?'
'Wait here.'
Caitlin and I withdrew to our State cabin. As soon as she closed the
door, I crossed to the mirror.
'What are you doing?'
'Only magic can defeat Malbane,' I answered distractedly.
'We can't leave them here,' she said. 'But none of them have the power
to escape through the looking glass.'
'Then what choice do I have?' I asked wretchedly.
'No choice at all,' Caitlin said grimly, looking over my shoulder. 'The
mirror is clouded.'
I turned and saw in place of reflection, the looking glass was white as
a mourning sheet. Its glass no longer yielded to my touch.
'That cursed Malbane has discovered our secret and blocked the entrance
to the Palace of Mirrors.'
'It is as well,' Caitlin said resignedly, 'It removes the temptation to
escape like cowards.'
'I might have contacted mother in the Quiet Tree for help.'
'Perhaps, you still can,' said my clever wife. She walked over to the
washstand and poured water into the bowl. 'Come over,' she suggested.
She pointed into the basin. 'What do you see?'
'My reflection.'
'Look harder! Concentrate on seeing your mother's face.'
At first, I saw only myself, but when I had nearly despaired, the water
began to bubble and cloud. When it cleared, I saw her face, though I
felt disconcerted by mother's annoyed expression. 'What is it?' she asked
crossly. 'Why do you call on me? Don't you understand my place is with
your father?'
Feeling hurt, I apologized but hastened to tell her of our troubles and
beg for help.'
'I don't know if I can help,' she replied. 'There's a force here that
may be willing. You'll know shortly if I can tap that magic. But,' she
continued severely, 'you must never call on me again. For better or
worse, you must now rule with such powers as you have.'
I humbly agreed and mother's face faded.
'What now, Sire,' the captain asked anxiously as Caitlin and I rejoined
the group.
'I have done what I can. Now, we must wait,' I replied with more
confidence than I felt.
The boat rocked violently.
'Wind's picking up,' a sailor muttered.
There was a pause. I was about to speak when Caitlin gestured.
'Listen,' she said. We all listened. 'Your Majesty, I don't hear anything,' the
captain objected. 'That's what I mean,' Caitlin explained. It's silent
out there. The birds aren't attacking the ship.'
'Do you think they've gone?' a sailor asked hopefully. 'No,' Caitlin
decided. 'But they sense danger.'
The next moment, a storm broke about the boat - a mighty thunderclap,
then lighting like ten thousand lamps that we saw through the tiny
spaces between the deck planks was followed by a deluge of rain, which
swiftly turned into hail with ice, the size of cannon balls crashing onto
the ship.
We listened in awe at the racket that continued for ten minutes. 'This
is no ordinary storm,' the captain muttered, crossing himself. 'This is
demonic force!'
Even after the hail ceased, our ears rang from the assault.
'Open the hatch!' I ordered.
'Are you sure it's safe, Your Highness?' the captain worried, then
seeing my frown he helped the seamen at the task. 'It's stuck,' a man
grunted. We all added our strength and gradually, a heavy weight shifted and
we were able to climb up to the deck. We found a scene of devastation.
The night sky was clear again and moonlight glittered on the snowfield
and the broken bodies of dead birds. Spotting the corpse of a
particularly large and ugly bird, which I knew to be Malbane, I lifted the
disgusting creature by the wing and cast it overboard. The seamen fetched
shovels and brooms and the decks were soon clear. We found the torn and
bloodied bodies of the three wretches who hadn't been able to escape the
birds and wrapped their bodies, together with that of Gaenid, in the
kingdom's flags. After a short, Christian ceremony, their bodies were
committed to the deep.
Exhausted by our narrow escape, we then repaired below decks to eat,
drink and sleep. The next morning, we unfurled the only canvas that had
been locked away, safe from the tearing beaks of Malbane's birds.
Rigging a jury sail, we slowly sailed to the nearest port where urgent
repairs were made, allowing us in time to pass through the Messina Straits
and complete our journey to Thalassa
What more is there to tell?
As I pen these words, Caitlin and I have now ruled our kingdom for
twenty years and have gradually brought peace and prosperity to our land.
In time, we were blessed with issue - two girls and a boy. One of the
children - our eldest girl, I suspect, has magical powers, judging from
the number of times I hear reports she rides alone into the forest.
While it may be she goes to meet a lover - she takes after her mother in
beauty as well as character, it would not surprise me to learn she's
discovered her own Quiet Tree. Perhaps there she speaks with her
grandmother.
I don't ask and she never says.
The Prince in the Looking Glass© COPYRIGHT 2005 Stephen Collicoat.
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.
06/20/05
