The Queen's Pleasure

by Miriam E. Waters

Laurel studied the newspaper image.  The picture captured her and Michael sharing an intimate moment together reading a book on a park bench.  She felt as though her mother’s heart was being squeezed in a vise, its jaws exacting enough pain to steal her breath.

Queen Maka had appropriated Michael after the photograph had been published in the kingdom’s newspaper.  She had demanded Laurel surrender her son to her after becoming captivated by Michael’s visage. Such was the latitude granted a ruler.

Laurel set the newspaper clipping aside. She lifted a treasured souvenir from its hiding place in her cedar-lined chest.  The flannel on the knees had been worn to threads and a few of the buttons were loose.  The slipper feet had holes where his toes had sought release.  The little blue bears still danced across the soft fabric, unaware of the loss that had shattered her world.

She could almost feel the swell of Michael’s soft paunch when she touched one of the little bears on the pajamas.  The little bears were all that were left to her. They didn’t understand any more than Michael had that the queen’s whims must be satisfied.

Laurel’s reverie was interrupted by a loud pounding on her door.  The door shook from the impact of repeated blows.  Startled and confused by the interruption, Laurel moved to secret her forbidden treasures back in the chest.  Queen Malka would not be pleased were she to discover these remnants of Laurel’s time with Michael.  A jealous woman, the queen would deny Laurel even this small bit of comfort.

A loud male voice commanded from the street, “Open to the pleasure of the queen!”

Laurel moved quickly to respond to the order once her mementos were safely hidden.  She opened the door to find one of the queen’s guards upon her doorstep.  “Stand aside,” he barked.

The guard was imposing in his rich uniform of scarlet wool and gold braid.  His rapier caught a glint from the sun as he entered her home.  His raiment reminded her of the color of spilt blood.

“You are charged with the crime of treason.  Your treachery is to be rewarded with death.  Place your hands upon your head and move into the street,” the guard bellowed.

Incredulous, Laurel moved to obey.  She dropped her head to her chest and gave voice to a singular sob.