Queen Mab (4 page)

"I seek out this friendship," he continued.  "Please, guide my steps!  Tell me how to move forward so that the House of Capulet may rise to greatness once again."

It was indeed always money or power.  Mankind was so weary, Queen Mab thought.

"Indeed, your House has fallen quite from grace.  What price shall you pay me to protect your House, Lord Capulet?" she asked.

"Anything.  Anything!" he swore, gripping her fingers as if a lifeline.

She knew the truth.  They would say "anything", but struggle and fight when she stated the recompense.  She looked deep into his eyes, seeking out that which was held most dear.  The answer came as quite a surprise.  This man's greatest gift seemed to be his generous heart, his patient ways, and his loving spirit.  So it should be hers to the envy of all.

"I shall take your kindness," she replied with a nod of her head.

Lord Capulet looked confused. "My kindness is freely given.  Indeed, a boon of your choosing is yours to claim.  Protect my House and you may name the favor.  If it is within my power, I shall grant it."

Mab smiled. "Indeed, you are kind."

She did not bother to clarify.  She had proposed the price.  He had agreed.  Whether he was aware or not of the true meaning of her words was irrelevant.  A bargain had been struck and the deal made.  His kindness for her protection.  She held out her hand to seal their contract. "Follow me."

He placed his hand in hers and she led the nervous man from the receiving hall to her laboratory. Seated upon the wall were small bottles filled with liquids, powders, and gases.  She motioned to Lord Capulet to stay still inside a ring of wood inlaid into the floor.

She raised an empty jar and looked over at the gentleman. 

Lord Capulet's eyes grew heavy and his head bobbed upon his neck like flotsam upon the sea.  When he settled into stillness, she waved her hand.  A pink cloud oozed from his pores, creating a halo of happiness around him.  She waved her hand once again and the cloud drifted from Lord Capulet and into her glass. She placed a lid upon it.  It was done.  The world would worship her for this kindness and she could not wait to drink and watch as the populace knelt before her.

When Lord Capulet's eyes opened, there was a hardness that had not been there before, an edge to his words when he spoke. "How strange I feel..." he said, raising a hand to his brow.  "I require a chair to rest upon."

"Nay," she whispered, "You must lie down."

He sank in the center of the circle as if lowered by pulleys and string.  His eyes fluttered to half-mast as the dream overcame him.  Mab watched it in her crystal ball.  A young girl appeared.  And a boy.  And their meeting spelled disaster and the collapse of the House of Capulet.

As the last image faded, Lord Capulet's eyes opened.  Slowly, he looked to Queen Mab for answers.

The words formed upon her lips and echoed through her chamber, as if the earth and stones about them joined in chorus to this prophesy. "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

"I do not understand."

Mab paused, then stated simply for him, "You shall soon have a daughter..."

"My wife is now with child..." he confirmed.

"You will name her Juliet."

"We had only spoken of names for my heir, but if a girl, I had thought of that name, Juliet..."

"Beware.  She shall rise against you.  If you wish for your House to survive intact, you must marry her off as young as her body can bear to a cousin, perhaps, or another from your own house."

Lord Capulet nodded.

"Then all shall be safe," Queen Mab said.  Then she pointed at him. "Remember my words.  This prophecy shall happen many years into the future and I am afraid that you will forget."

"Never, Queen Mab."

She inclined her head.  "You are mortal and, as such, are subject to the failings of mortal minds and mortal hearts.  I see that the House shall fall, which means that you will forget, that at some time during your sojourn on this earth, your feeble soul will be unable to resist the temptations of hospitality and good grace.  If you wish to retain the House of Capulet, you must remember your hope lies with your daughter, and her betrayal will end your line."

Lord Capulet nodded.  "I swear I shall remember, Queen Mab.  I swear it all.  Your knowledge is mighty and I am but a humble gentleman with human concerns of country and home."

Queen Mab leaned forward. "Indeed, your kindness preceded you.  Now be gone."

As he left, she stared into the ball.  The future was still shrouded in the haze of the million different missteps, but what she had said held true.  Indeed, the house of Capulet would fall.  She hoped the foolish lord remembered.  She would hate to have to return her prize.

S
he flew in her hazelnut shell through the dark empty streets of Verona, enjoying the cold and knowing Lord Capulet's kindness waited in her pocket for when she finished her nightly ride.  She wanted this one last journey before transformation—to view the world with her old eyes so that she might see the difference when she looked at it anew.  Her chariot landed upon the branch of a tree.  She leapt out, and before her feet touched the ground, she had returned to full human form.

"Whither do you wander, Queen Mab?" asked a voice from the shadows.

She would have recognized that voice from anywhere.  It caused fangs to grow from the center of her soul.  Vengeance itself called to her to rip this creature into ribbons of meat.

She turned slowly.  Standing beneath the torchlight and leaning against a stone wall was a horned, half-goat man.  The shadows could not hide his form from her.

"Faunus," she acknowledged, icily.

He raised an eyebrow. "My, my dear queen.  A century has passed and you still seem to be displeased at the sight of me."  He gave her a wink and sauntered close.  "You must admit, what we once had was most cunning sport."

She lashed out to rake his cheek with her claws, but he danced away before her fingers could make their mark.

"Now, now, is that any way to behave to one who held your heart so dear?" he laughed.

"It was a liar's trick," she spat.

"But a pleasant trick, and one which harmed you naught."  He leaned forward.  "Or did it?  Was the heart of the mighty Mab so stolen that she would hold a grudge for nigh on one hundred years?"

She bit back her words, not giving him the satisfaction of a denial, nor the pleasure of the truth.  Instead she said, "You stole nothing more than a bull."

"...one which was returned to you..."

"And made me look the fool."

"Ah, no one can make you look the fool but yourself, Queen Mab.  You have only yourself to blame."

She yearned to destroy him.  Yearned to cast him into a sleep so deep that the world might end and he would still slumber in the arms of nightmares and ghosts.  But she dared not, for fear of Juno's intercession. 

And for the fact that the goat man spoke truth.

"Why do you trouble me, Faunus?" she asked, waving her arms to the darkness.  "It is night and you should be abed so that tomorrow when the sun rises, you might rise to bed the virgins that you woo.  What makes you trespass upon my domain?"

"Merely came to see how Queen Mab fared.  I hear Titania is still having fits that you sold your sleeping potions to Oberon."

"He bears the blame for that mishap, not me."

"Indeed, what a cheerful Midsummer you arranged for such a forgiving king and queen."

"Quiet."

Faunus pulled out his flutes and played her a trill.

"Tell me true, what brings you here?" she asked.

Faunus shrugged.  "Want of pleasant companionship?"

"The time of us keeping company is far behind us."

"But new friendship is in bloom.  What say you we drink a cup of kindness?" asked Faunus with pointed interest.

Mab looked at him in disgust.  "Of what do you speak?"

"I have just been forced to look in upon the birth of a human child.  I must say I am more interested in the formation of such a creature than the end result.  I come to find distraction from these horrific visions that my eyes should never have seen."

"That is not why you came, my enemy."

"True.  You always knew me best, my Mab," he confessed.  "I hear you stole a cup of human kindness and I would like a draught."

She wondered who had told him, the news being but hours old.  There were spies in her midst and she would make sure they did not see the next sunrise.

"The kindness kept shall not kiss your lips," she replied.

"Lips for kissing might yet woo it out of you."

"The wooing that might have won was done long ago."

"A pity.  It would not have done you harm.  Perhaps a game, Mab, a wager for the taste of kindness sweet?"

Mab paused, his words arresting her for just a moment.  His words held intrigue, a feeling she had not felt for a long while. 

He gave her a wink.  "Now, there is my Mab."

"I was never yours, Faunus."

"Perhaps a peace between us two, a wager that might rid you of me or cease our feral spitting, instead turning us into two fat felines which sit before the fire and lick."

"What sort of a wager might give us that?"

"A game between two Houses!  A taste of Capulet kindness to two mortals.  Champions in battle, handicapped by their hearts."

"Handicapped by their hearts?"

"Is that not what the heart is?  A twisted weakness?  A chink in the armor of strength?  The only thing that keeps man from rising to the top, as he is held back by pity for his fellows?"

Mab leaned against the archway of the bridge and regarded this her foe.  "If the heart is made so weak by such a human state, why do you desire a taste of it so?"

"Curiosity," replied Faunus.

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Then let me be the king of cats," Faunus replied.

"Not for all your nine lives.  Tell me, Faunus, true - why do you desire the kindness?"

Faunus gave her a sideways glance.  "You take me not at my word?"

"I have known you lo these many centuries, Faunus, and I am not a fool."

"Aye, not a fool, but once my fool."

"And never again shall I dance at your feet for the prize of a laugh and a smile.  Tell me, Faunus."

"For the sport!  You used to need not a reason, our pleasure was bait enough to tempt the fates."

"I rather like seeing you in despair," replied Mab.  "My answer is no."

Faunus leaned forward and let the words drip from his lips like honey.  "What if the stakes were higher?  What if the game was more than just a laugh and a smile?"

"And what might be my prize?"

Faunus paused, his answer like a treat on a hook.  "Too long have the Houses of Montague and Capulet been the pawns of our game.  Like chess, we moved the pieces about the table, perfectly matched knight-to-knight and rook-to-rook.  Let us bring this tiresome game to an end.  Clear the board of all but two pieces.  A cup of kindness to these two to overtake each's king.  One side Montague.  One side Capulet.  Let us take this game to check and mate so that we might begin anew."

"Whoever shall bring down the other's House the victor?"

"One side shall rise and one side shall fall.  Whoever wins inherits them all."

"And what if both shall live or die?"

"Such an end will be not done, for if that is the case, the game is not yet won."

Mab sat quietly as she thought.

"Come, Queen, you are as weary as me.  Centuries it has gone on, you banished, me bored.  We could finally enjoy the splendor of the day!  Come.  Join in the fun.  Sit not in the dark and rage at the brightness.  Agree to the game and be done."

Faunus looked at her with the eyes of one she had unknowingly been forced to love, with a heart that once beat for her.  She found herself pulling out the kindness from her pocket.  Faunus held up two vials.

"You thought of quite everything, did you?" she remarked.

"And where would we be if I had not?  Carrying the kindness in our palms like a drinker at a fountain?  Come, Mab! Dispense with it!  Let our distraction begin!"

She removed the cork and spoke the words to cause a single taste to float to the containers in Faunus's hand.  She then placed the lid back on tight and hid the kindness away as if frightened it might decide to struggle to free from her grasp and run home to its master.

Faunus held out the one vial to Mab, pausing so that his hand lingered on hers before releasing it.

"Let it begin," said Queen Mab as she turned away.  "We shall see who emerges the victor."

Q
ueen Mab placed her brush upon her dressing table and stared at herself in the mirror. 

Tonight she would go to the palace of Prince Escales to seek out her champion and see what pieces now played in Verona's game of political chess.  The prince's palace was one of forced neutrality, so all would be in attendance at this masquerade no matter what meddling they dabbled in during the day.  A mask of deep blue, the silver edging sparkling in the candlelight, sat before her, whispering promises of anonymity and stealth.  She could watch and wait, carefully choosing the champion who would at last bring an end to a House which had plagued her too long.

She walked over to her great white wardrobe and flicked through her gowns of dragonfly wings and foxtails before pulling out the mask's mate and her choice for tonight's dress.  The overlay was slashed and cut, as was the fashion in all the best homes of Verona, and from beneath the midnight velvet and scrolling silver embroidery came the gentle glow of fireflies. 

At once, the unseen hands of her dream-servants were upon her, tying and untying, straightening her laces and cinching her corset.  These invisible companions, born from her own mind, were her handmaidens now.  The days that another faerie would look upon her were long since gone, the memory of why still eluded her.  A final tug, a smoothing swipe, and she was dressed.  A servant handed her the mask.  She placed it upon her face and looked once more into her looking glass.  She was a stranger to herself.  A woman in blue stared blankly back at her as the touch of her only companions faded and she was left alone once more.