Chapter 21
“So how did you rest, Mother?” Merek asked through the panel.
“I am afraid the sounds of the night were quite stirring to me.” I said quietly, not touching his eyes with my own.
Grunting lowly, he nodded. “That is a shame.”
“Yes, perhaps so, it was to be one of my last nights after all.” I spoke bravely, the words like venom in my mouth. I wanted to spit them out as quickly as I could, yet I knew I must swallow this bitter tasting poison. To spit it out would be just what he wanted.
Without warning, a startling clicking noise came into the room. It took me a moment to realize that it was the door. Opening it wide, he held out his hand, “Actually, due to unforeseen circumstances, last night was indeed your very last night.”
“Merek?” I stood, backing away from him as far as I could in that little room. Glancing to the door behind him and the water closet to my left, I thought I might leap to one of them and buy myself some time. But he drew so close so quickly, that I found myself in his merciless grasp before I could even think to move to initiate any of my plans.
“I am most sorry, Mother, but you have been relieved of your final days. You can thank your secret little admirer for that.” I did not look up at him. I did not want to face the wrath of his eyes, but I needed to, I had to! “Who was he?” the words slipped breathlessly from my lips as I locked eyes with him. But he just as quickly turned his head from mine, right before I was able grasp the strange emotion that lit his eyes.
“He was-” he whispered meekly, the strange emotion in his eyes wiggled its way into his speech, and no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he could not withhold it from his voice. “He was of no consequence.” There was sadness in his tone, an emotion I thought beasts did not possess. And since he was undoubtedly the most wild and vicious beast I knew, I thought he was no exception to the rules of beasts, but apparently I was wrong. Even he must give in to the emotions of man. Who was it I wonder, who brought more emotion and sadness to him than even his own wife’s death had? Than even my own imminent death can?
“Now, ask no more useless questions.” His voice returned to its usual iciness, though he still refused to meet my eyes. “It is time for…” he did not finish his sentence. His hand grasped my shoulder, ever so slightly, tighter, and he forcibly guided me from my little cage.
We walked in silence down the dark hall. I could not see where we were going as we journeyed deeper down the hall. This maze of a castle was so vast, that I do not think I had ever been to this part of it before. Walking down nearly black corridors lit only by candles that we found about every thirty paces, I could not comprehend the sudden turns and descending and ascending of strange stairs which led to even stranger and longer passages.
After walking for what seemed like hours, though I knew it had only really been a few minutes, I found that we were in the hallway where my old room had been. But we passed it just as quickly as we had the other doors. Again, the twists and turns resumed. My head began to spin, and though I was tempted to, I did not smile at the memory of my walking down these halls in the same daze that I was presently experiencing. I remember I would have to ask the guards and servants which way it was to the dining hall. Although I had not been summoned in years, when I was, it was a challenge to make it there without getting lost. I almost never arrived on time.
“Hmmm,” I hummed aloud as a strange thought occurred to me.
“What is it?” Merek asked, his quick pace becoming sluggish as we trudged down the spindly stairs, his face taking on a paler visage the slower we walked.
“It is of no-” I was about to repeat the words he always told me. But for once, since I see it as my last, I would tell him wholly what was on my mind. “I just thought,” I somehow found a weary smile at the peculiar little thought I was to voice, “I just thought that it was strange that even in this prison I found joy. It was in such a trivial matter as well. The more I contemplate this, the more joyous I become as I think of all the other minor and insignificant events that I carried on in my everyday life here. I find a strange joy in their memory.”
Now at the bottom of the stairs, he stopped. Staring off into some distance, he moved his lips to speak, but no words came out.
And so I decided it was best to finish my tale, if only to fill the silence. “It was amusing because I did not recognize the simple joys I experienced every day. Though little ones they were, they were none the less joyous. It was those joys that kept me going in this place. I believe without them I would have definitely and utterly crumbled.” Knowing what I must say now, I found it difficult for my lips to shape the necessary words. But as a Christian to her enemy and as a mother to her son, I know I must indeed speak these words, even if they will reluctantly express a hint of gratitude and love.
“Thank you, Merek, for allowing me to experience the little joys of life. Thank you for teaching me to read and write so that I could read wondrous works I had never dreamed could exist. It was a great pleasure to read and learn. Thank you for the food I ate while here, so rich and fine. I do not think I have ever had a bad meal here, and every day, for every meal, I received a delight from just partaking of it. That is more than we could say before.” I smiled, laughing at my own words that stung me so. “Ha, I never thought a grandchild and daughter-in-law could give me such joy as their company did, but you once again proved me wrong. The girl was a dear, loving and beautiful, a good mother and wife. And her child! Oh, how I love him so!”
Still frozen in place at the bottom of the stairs, he continued to express his opinion by his silence.
“And most of all,” I whispered as the doors to our right opened, “Most of all, I loved to look outside the window.”
Rushing in with his red face, General Culeth breathed heavily as he marched across the room to us. Bowing hurriedly, he glanced to me and then to Merek, “Your Majesty, I must discuss with you about a grave matter. Please tell me what-”
Holding his hand up, the General silenced himself for Merek to speak. However, his foot tapped impatiently as Merek spoke, “General Culeth, why do you always yell? Can you not speak without shouting?”
Bowing twice quickly as he had before, his agitated eyes glanced to me and then to his King once more. “I beg your pardon, my most gracious Majesty, I simply got too ahead of myself and I could not contain my excitement over this matter. Please punish me as you will for this disregard of your royal Highness’s ears as I was not thinking at the moment. For you see, there is something I must speak to you in private about, as it is a grave matter, and I know you are very busy at the moment, but I seek your Majesty’s-”
“Enough of your ceaseless chattering! Just speak!” Merek scrunched his brow at the General’s own agitation.
Glancing quickly to me, he frowned deeply, “Yes, well, it is a private matter and-”
Waving his hand once more, Merek raised his head high, “She will not be here long enough to tell anyone, just spit it out.”
Pursing his lips, he balled his fist and nodded, “M-my son, you see, he is dead.”
“I know.” Merek replied sharply.
“Your Majesty?” the General looked up in bewilderment.
“He was killed yesterday night for attempting to steal something of mine.” Grasping my hand tighter, he spoke of this news lightly. “Next time, you should teach your children to obey their commanders and, more importantly, not to give into useless insubordination.”
“H-He was my only son.”
“You’ve yourself a wife. She can bear another, or perhaps not, since she is quite old.” Leaving behind the old General, who had bowed over in his tears, we walked towards the door from which he had entered.
Without warning, Merek’s hand threw me back. Spinning round quickly, he drew his sword. In a flash, before one even had the time to blink, General Culeth’s blood oozed into the cracks of the velvet covered tiles. Wiping the blood from his sword onto his cloak, Merek threw
the cloak over the nearly decapitated general. Yes, nearly decapitated. He had only cut far enough to slice that ever so vital vein and then—
I can no longer contemplate the physical mechanics of his death. I can no longer bear to look anymore, but I cannot turn away either. Merek’s black cloak moistened with the General’s blood, which ran through the cracks to touch my feet. It flowed around them. The instinctive urge to run in terror rippled through my body. But I know I cannot, I cannot because if I did run then I would be running away from my own fate. A fate that is oh too similar. But unlike the general, I will not have the luxury of still having my head attached to my body.
My trembling fingers touched the vein on my neck, bold and pulsing. It flows to my heart. I know it does. And when it is cut…
“I will die.” Slipping from my lips, I tasted the foul words thoroughly. Their truth and the clarity of their deep meaning sunk into my very core.
I will die. And when I die, I will be no more of this world. No more smiles or tears, no more family or strangers, no more of my physical life. No, it will all be gone. Gone the burdensome luxury and joyous poorness of my life! Gone the sorrows and love of my son!
All will simply be gone.
No! No! No! I shook my head feverishly. I must not think this way! For not all will be gone. I will be with HIM, our all mighty savoir, and I will rest in HIM, and there will be no more worries, because there will be only HIM, because I will need only HIM…If HE finds me worthy of HIS greatness that is…
Oh, God, I beseech thee this prayer! Please watch over the souls of this General and his son, who found themselves at your doors by reason of me…Please let their lives be judged as just, as well as all the others whom have died on my behalf or otherwise. And let me, oh sovereign Lord, though I have been the cause for so much sin and though I know I am unworthy, I beg of thee to let me at least bask in your presence for a single moment before I am cast down among the heathens, among whom I so deserve to rest. And above all else…have mercy on my son as I know you Yourself, Holy Father, Spirit, and Son, are so merciful in and of Yourself!
Praying my final selfish intentions, even at the guillotine’s head, I rushed them out, pouring my heart and soul over them as I shook my folded hands violently. They were more like wishes than prayers, things that I had no control of. But as I wished upon those prayers, as children do on stars in the sky, I felt in my heart at least one must come true, as it was the duty of falling stars to grant at least one wish from the thousands of wishes that people make upon them in their lives.
“You are remarkable, Mother. Even when you witness death and even though your heart has been eaten away by your fear, you still seem to find a sliver of hope to beg your God for your life.” Though his words were sharp and harsh, his voice was gentle and his eyes solemn.
Droplets plopped upon the floor, thick and loud. They beat like a drum. The sound one might hear of one’s own heart as it beats to its final moments. This was not mine, though. In fact, it was no heart at all. Grasping his bleeding arm, Merek showed no sign of the searing pain he no doubt felt. It had been wrenched open from the sword the General, too, had drawn in the split second of that last moment. The General had missed his true mark, and defeat cost him most dearly.
“Merek!” I drew towards him. Tearing the end of my cloak with my teeth, I preformed the quickest and roughest care I had ever done. “Under other circumstances, I would apply ointment or run water over it, but I think it is best to first stop the bleeding.” Wrapping it securely around his arm, I touched his back. Standing up straight, Merek, stared at me, a questioning look in his eyes. I think a smile was trying to flutter its way upon his lips, but he, of course, snapped it back.
“How is it that you can help the man who leads you to, and is even responsible for, your death?” It was clear by the expression on his face that he wanted to say more, but he restrained himself. His pride overcame his own emotions, whatever they might have been.
I replied to him with a gentle smile, “What mother could not help her son when he is so badly injured?”
“It would be understandable if the mother of a son who was going to kill her were not to treat him as a son, but as what she truly in her heart believes him to be.” He was testing me, observing my expressions and motions carefully. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Not jumping round the fact of the matter, I announced the thought that was on both our minds, “And what do you think my heart believes you to be?”
“I don’t know.” He bowed his head. Searching somewhere for an answer, he turned from me to the door. “It must be the same as that idiotic guard,” he mumbled.
“What are you talking about?”
His hands on the door handles, he turned his head to me, “I was just thinking of how the General’s son perceived your heart to be."
He was the guard outside your door, and he was in love with you. Not in the sense of marriage, but in the sense of the love that admiration births. What made him think of you as admirable I used to not know. But perhaps that quality of yours that he admired most comes from that part of your heart that somehow finds it obligatory to continue to love me. Your composure and temperament make me unable to discern if the words of love you spoke had become empty or not. I know at first they were full of love, but I became unsure. I was forcing you to accept and love me as I implanted the idea of the importance of a mother’s love for her child into your mind. I came to believe that this feeling that you invoked in me had been a result of my twisting your emotions, that it was—that it was artificial…,” his voice trailed off.
Bowing his head, he turned towards the door, firmly grasping the handles. Listening closely, I held my breath, for even a tiny noise would overpower the nearly silent little words he whispered, “But now I see…you really do…love as a mother should.”
When the doors finally swung open, he stood tall. His head high, he strode with arms raised to the sky. The cheers of the hundreds. No, it must be thousands, of people, resounded together to hail him. Guards rushed to us from outside the doors, dressed in the finest wear I have ever seen. The enchanting white color and the fine black silk embroidery of the uniform caused me to question Merek’s intentions. Was he mocking me? Such a pure and bright color did not belong at a funeral such as this, but at a wedding or other joyous celebration!
Although, perhaps these uniforms were fitting in a sense. To the common people here, who cheered for a man they scarcely know, their innocence is like this, white. They are pure and ignorant of what they praise. The black is a fitting representation of the truth. The truth of what Merek and his regime truly represent. It sews the uniform together, boldly standing out from the blazing white. It shows how this apparent prosperous and peaceful nation is actually held together by destruction and violence.
From a distance, I believe the black would look as a well ordered stain on a perfectly prestigious uniform, just as a sin willed by ourselves purposely stains the soul of a pure heart. I met the empty eyes of my grandson, who looked down from a balcony, a nursemaid pulling at him to come back inside. Such a terrible stain for one so young.
As I looked at him and the nursemaid, I knew not what to do. If the nurse was not strong enough, he would again witness something terrible! Yet, I could do nothing to stop it.
Should I smile? No. Should I cry out to him? No. But then what should I do? And so the moment passed before I could decide upon the action to take.
As the crowds cleared a path for their King and me, it became clear that they found me despicable. The cheers heard only seconds before turned to curses and spits when I came towards the crowd.
“You cursed mother!” they cried. “A disgrace to mothers!” shouted another. The shouts and cries soon mobbed together, and the people reached for me, scratching, and trampling the guards. Their fists found me and beat down viciously.
They do not even know what I have done and yet they hate me. They beat me without end without even qu
estioning the reason why. Why? Why do they hurt me? What have I done but give birth to a child? Please tell me. Tell me!
A single unidentifiable sound rung through the air and the masses moved away from me. His arms were around me; his shouts and curses were distant and fading.
“Mother…go!...Mother!...don’t…go…Mother...ve…I…love…uo…Mother, I love you!” His words, like the fountain of life, restored me! An energy and joy raced through me, and I smiled as I raised my hand to wipe the tears from his face. Such emotion, such anguish and anger and raw passion! He was a man, a human again! And though I do not know how long it will last I am glad that it is here, that right now he is here. My son is here!
“Finally…my little boy has returned.” The energy drained from me faster and faster. I could not hold my hand to his cheek any longer, but I so desperately wanted to. I wanted to touch my boy who had been away from me for so long. Realizing this, he held my hand to his cheek, his shaking jaw moved up and down as if speaking words—
But no sound came.
“I cannot hear you.” My voice came out as a breath, so faint and dim. I felt as if the world around me were spinning as my vision faded in and out. The darkness began to overtake my eyes just as I saw the light return to his. They were a beautiful brown, so bright and brilliant.
Shaking his head, he pulled me up. It was only then that I felt the blood trickle down my arm. Suddenly, a sharp pain struck my chest. “Ah, I see,” I mumbled. Someone must have been unable to wait for the execution.
My fingers twisted in the blood as it seeped from me. I think I should write a dying message, but would he find it? Would it matter? Will my death just not cause him to become crueler? Would a simple ‘I love you’ from his mother change anything?
Yes.
Yes, words are important, but I do not think those are the right words to say. My hand sticky from the hot red liquid, I felt my own body growing colder as this heat escaped me.
As his head was swinging back and forth, I smiled up at him. He is so worried about me, so emotional, more than I have ever seen. But why, why, when for all these years he sought my attention only to throw it back and mock me, why does he—
Ah! That is it. Mockery. He is still a child! A silly little child who does not know the right from the wrong, who has not yet distinguished these important things. If only there was someone wise to guide him, to teach him. I know we cannot tell them the answer, but we can teach and we can pray. We can teach and pray that they find it on their own.
Yes, it is time for my final lesson. If I teach him anything, I hope it will be this.
Trying to shape my lips to form the words, I opened my eyes as wide as I could. Fighting the darkness which crept round, I raised my bloody hands with all my might so that both my hands touched his face, both the dirty and the clean. I found the irony in even this last act of mine, though it is such a simple one.
“What makes a good person, a good mother-” I felt my breath shorten, the air escaping from my lungs ever so quickly. But I could not—I could not give in yet! I had not yet told him!
“What makes a mother is Love, Patience, and above all else-”
That was all I could muster.
I could not finish the rest. How important that last part was though! That one syllable word, so simple, so real. How crucial it is! It summed up all of life’s meanings into a single word. Without it, the other two virtues are incomplete. Can he understand my message without the last word?
Probably not.
He will probably not understand at all…But perhaps…perhaps, just this one time…nothing more will be needed.
Let that be my final prayer…
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