Behind the Shoulders of Every Soldier

Her face started to show up in the mirror while the image of her past faded away. She was raised from her very first breath to be the king’s wife. It was a pact made among her father, the war strategy commander of the kingdom, and the king. They knew the king had a decease that would not allow him to live long. Therefore, she was brought up to be, indeed, in charge of the kingdom eventually. After the king’s death, she had to prove her value for everyone in the kingdom to guarantee her ruler’s powers… The ending of all this seemed to be coming…

She could see her face in the mirror now, emotionless, a very hard expression on it, she looked like her father more than ever. She felt like him as well, his words about battles, war strategies, his most passionately past stories coming across her mind, although, she did not feel passionate about this. Not now. As great as it might sound in her father’s voice, now that she felt it in her heartbeat, it did not feel as passion at all. Nothing like the romantic books about battles and epic heroes. It was, as all the rest of it, a duty.

“We don’t have time for this kind of emotion…” She had heard from her father when she cried for her mother’s death. And he repeated several other times… we don’t have time for enjoying this, we don’t have time for feeling angry, we don’t have time to fear…

Isabella, a distant cousin of the deceased king, was sitting in the same armchair she was on the day the queen defeated the king at the chess match; she was gazing at the queen:

“Are you sure about that?”

“What am I supposed to be sure about, Isabella?”

“You know” Isabella paused “a queen shall not be in war” she exhaled heavily.

The queen glanced at her through the mirror:

“I must be there…”

“But why?” Isabella’s lips trembled.

“I need to…” She paused and sighed “We are less in number… I need to boost their morale, provide the troops some confidence.” She tightened the strap of her armor making a loud click “We must outnumber them in braveness and determination. Our soldiers must believe in themselves, in the battle, because we must win. We shall… Otherwise…” she did not want to conclude her thoughts.

“What difference would you make there?” There was a tear’s sparkle in the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Isabella. You know what I was brought up for. If the queen herself believes in her army enough to be in the front row, it means they are worth it.”

Isabella looked down, the queen hardly missed anyone’s movements, face expressions, breathing rhythms. She learnt by herself to read accurately all this over-flowing nonverbal communication, as an animal in the jungle, ready to react properly if needed. She could notice that Isabella felt heartsick. Although, as much as she cared about Isabella, this suffering could not be relieved.

“Also, I have a speech to deliver. Words can be the most powerful weapon sometimes.” She needed to change the subject “Are you leaving with Peter tonight, aren’t you?” Peter, the prince, was Isabella’s favorite subject. “The carriage is ready for you, therefore, please, do not take too long. We do not know what will occur…” again, she avoided thinking about it. She was already in her soldier’s armor, only the helmet missing. She was in her soldier’s role now, she should not think about any other issue rather than battle strategies or other movements in regard to the battlefield.

“Yes, we are going to my family’s villa tonight. I am only waiting for you to leave first. Are you worried about Peter?”

“No, of course not. You definitely know him better than I do. You have been raising him until now, I merely assisted you. I am concerned about this battle. If we lose it, then I must be worried about him, you and everybody else in this kingdom. Every mother, every child, every man, every piece of land.” She took her knife from her ankle and left it on the vanity table for one moment and decided to brush her hair for the last time.

“It is gorgeous!” Isabella said.

“It is also worthless, always hidden under those horrible and smelly wigs.” The queen lost her patience to brush it. “You know that behind the shoulders of those who go to war are the ones we love, don’t you? That is the only thing that carries us on through it.”

“I can understand why they need your speech…” Isabella said with a bittersweet smile as the sharp nonverbal reading of the queen perceived it “What about Wilmore?” Isabella added.

“I will take care of him tonight.” The queen replied coldly. “Through a secret passage I will enter his room before I leave and I shall finish with him. With a battle going on, and a missing queen, his death will not be too noticeable.”

Then she simply grabbed and pulled her hair and cut it in one movement with her ankle-carried knife. After that, she put her helmet on.

“Ohh!” Isabella was shocked. She knew what the queen was about to do, she was not surprised, but still, she was very shocked.

Isabella’s sorrow was not enough to overshadow the admiration for her friend, her strength, her courage and determination. The queen’s father, the king and Maximiliam had prepared this woman almost to perfection for the position she would wear. What Isabella did not expect was how much she would end up liking the queen, now her best and only friend. The tears melted as dew in her eyes.

This tiny skinny woman would be her second loss, an insane lady who seemed to believe she carried a panther inside of her. Isabella tried to be angry with her, but she was unable to. How brave that woman was! Or how crazy? History would tell.

At least she would have Peter, the adorable child for whom she would invent the most mesmerizing stories about that kingdom. About the love, happiness and sacrifice of his parents. Isabella felt comforted imagining Peter with her by the fire, listening to her poetically made stories.

“I will take good care of Peter.”

The queen smiled:

“I know it. You are the mother of my son.”

“Be God with you, my dear.” Isabella could not hold her words and wished a blessing upon a non-believer.

The queen paused for an instant:

“Hope He will be on our side...” Three subtle knocks sounded at the door in a coded rhythm announcing her loyalty servant.

After the queen authorized his entrance, the servant bowed and muttered:

“Your horse is ready, Majesty.”

“I have to finish something here first, Mordecai. Keep it there waiting discreetly, please. No-one should know I am leaving the castle tonight.” The counselors, the ministers and Maximilian, neither of them agreed about her going to the war.

He nodded, bowed again, and left.

“Are you going to say goodbye to Peter?” Isabella asked.

“No, I am not.”

“But…” Isabella sounded frustrated.

“If I return, it would be an unnecessary distress. If I don’t” she sighed “what for? He hardly knows who I am.”

“For you, my dear. For you to have the memories of his arms embracing you.” Isabella’s voice grew shrill.

“I have him in my heart, that’s enough. He is sleeping. He should take advantage of all the peaceful nights he can enjoy. He may not have as many as a king…”

Isabella gave up trying to hold her tears in. Tears shed not only due to her suffering, but on account of her friend’s who was being the person and living the life that were projected to her. Projected to be rational, to rule a kingdom, and to have in mind the very best for everyone. Who would really be that woman if she was not planned to be the queen? What does the queen have of her genuine nature? Isabella wondered.

Isabella stood up from her seat, allowing herself to embrace that woman for the first time. Not the queen - the one who was her friend. Then she kissed her cheek, almost feeling the queen’s soul trembling.

“You can take this love memory for the battlefield.”

The queen seemed to be disconcerted yet looked straight into Isabella’s eyes:

“Thank you.” she said not knowing how she should react.

They both turned around, and headed towards different secret passages, leaving the room.

Isabella had embraced a friend, said goodbye to a queen, and, reluctantly, watched a soldier leave the room.