In the realm of Niflgard was a king named Thrall. He was good and just except for one thing: at the end of every week he would find the fairest woman of his realm and marry her, after having put to death his previous wife. Such was the hard law of the Winter King. It had gone on and on for centuries for it was a tradition in the kingdom. Even if Thrall had wanted to stop it he couldn't, for his wizard, Hvergel, had forbidden it and everybody was afraid of Hvergel. The Winter King never aged till his time was over and Hvergel asserted that a king forever young should have the fairest woman of his kingdom for bride.
Thrall, though looking young, wasn't young anymore. He had a son, Tyr, who would be the next king. Tyr was the son of one of Thrall's previous wives, a young and timid girl named Ran who had the fairest long enough to give birth to her child. At the end of every week he would follow his father, Hvergel and the current queen to a small room, empty except for a mirror on the wall. This mirror looked no different than any other mirror. It was even rather dull to be in a palace. But the mirror was magic and on the mirror day, Thrall would ask:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
The queen was trembling and praying that the mirror would say her name but it knew no mercy. Sometimes it answered:
"The fairest of them all, o king, is standing by your side."
Then the queen breathed again and smiled and Thrall nodded, satisfied, before leaving the room. Sometimes it answered:
"She who stands by your side is fair, o king, but the fairest she is not."
It showed then the image of the future new queen and said her name. The poor queen, pale and afraid, knew it was no use to beg her husband: she was to die.
Behind the palace was a garden for the queens' graves and they were so many that nobody knew exactly their number - or perhaps Hvergel knew.
The king would marry the fairest woman even if she was already married or betrothed, as long as she was older than sixteen. Some women had tried their chance, hoping to remain the most beautiful using witchcraft or beauty ointments, but nothing could trick the mirror. If the girl dirtied her face with soot or dressed herself with the ugliest gown she could find, it didn't matter: the king's emissaries would bring her anyway to the palace, where she was dressed up for the king and each time Thrall would be enthralled by her beauty. His father had behaved as he was and so had his father's father.
In this same realm of Niflgard was a man named Hodur. Younger Hodur had been married to a beautiful woman named Hefring who had died in childbirth just before the king's emissary arrived at their house. Hefring had given birth to a boy, Sigurd, and a little girl, Isolde. Rather than remarrying Hodur called his sister Iduna to his help and the young woman came, happy to help her brother. Sigurd and Isolde loved her as they would have loved their own mother and she loved them as she would have loved her own children.
Sigurd was nine and Isolde six when Sigurd saw a horse coming toward their house. Everybody knew what it meant thus he ran to the house.
"Duna! Duna! Hide, the emissary is here for you!"
Iduna stopped washing the dishes and looked up at Sigurd without understanding.
"The king... You are to be the Winter Queen," he blurted.
Calmly Iduna wiped her hands dry on her apron and took it off.
"Hide, Duna," begged Sigurd. "I don't want him to find you!"
She shook the head, gently, sadly.
"It's of no use, Sig. The mirror would find me wherever I may hide."
Isolde and Sigurd both took hold of her hands.
"I don't want you to die," whimpered Isolde before bursting into tears.
Iduna took her in her arms, rocking her gently.
"There, there, love, there's nothing we can do. Our king is master of our lives and we must do his bidding."
"Hail to thee, my queen!" exclaimed the emissary, whose name was Elvidnir. "The day of thy wedding is set to tomorrow."
"Iduna, no..." protested Hodur.
"I'm afraid I have no choice, Hodur," said Iduna, smiling bravely.
She hugged fiercely Isolde and Sigurd and they could see there were tears in her eyes.
"Duna, Duna..." the children whimpered endlessly.
She left with the emissary and didn't look back, afraid her heart might break.
The marriage was a bright ceremony. Thrall was bewitched, drinking his new queen's beauty. She didn't speak a word, didn't smile and thought only of the two children she had left behind. It seemed to her that she would never stop to hear their tearful calls: 'Duna, Duna...'.
"I have to live," she thought. "To live so I may see them again. I will die next week. Or the week after. I don't want to die. I want to see again Hodur, proud Sigurd and gentle little Isolde. I want to live."
She lived. Ten years after she was still Thrall's wife, the Winter Queen, and her beauty seemed unaltered. She lived each day in fear that someone might outshine her but at the end of every week the mirror only said:
"The fairest of them all, o king, is standing by your side."
And Thrall would smile at his wife, whom he had come to love very dearly.
Iduna wasn't a fool. She knew that a new custom had started among the townsmen, tired at last to see their wives, sisters, daughters marry the king only to die a week, a month, a year after. When a girl reached the age of fifteen, if she was pretty or more, her mother would present her with a knife and the girl would scar herself on the cheeks, on the chin and on the brow. Better to be scarred than dead. Any young man was proud to marry a girl who had had the courage to scar her face.
Each first day of the week, Iduna would run to Hodur's house, to tell them she was to live another week. They would all welcome her warmly and sometimes it seemed to her she had never left them. But still there was always Elvidnir waiting for her at the door. The children didn't whimper anymore when she was leaving. They watched her, proud and silent, and she could read in their eyes that they hoped to see her the next week.
Little Isolde turned fifteen. Iduna should have presented her with the knife to scar her face but she forgot, for she saw Isolde still like a child, who looked like her mother had at the same age. So Isolde's fair face remained untouched until, three months after her fifteenth birthday, Sigurd came home and saw his sister unscarred. He took his hunting knife and drew a star on Isolde's brow. He let her chin untouched since she already had a scar from a fall when she was younger. On her left cheek he drew an half-moon and let her go.
Isolde knew the meaning of the scars but was ashamed because her mother had never been scarred. So she changed her hairstyle to cover her brow and took care of always showing her right profile to people. Iduna never noticed the scars.
Fall passed and came again and Thrall died. After the burial of his father, Tyr, accompanied by Hvergel and Iduna, went to the mirror and asked it the question:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
"The fairest of them all, o king, is your father's bride and stands by your side."
Tyr looked at Iduna. He liked her, she was gentle and he was rather admiring her performance of remaining the Winter Queen for ten years. But somehow, though it was custom in Niflgard, he wasn't really fond of the idea of marrying his father's wife. She was beautiful, her age didn't matter to him, but well, she was his father's wife. Stealing the wife of another didn't seem right to him, even so the husband was dead.
At the coronation Tyr declared:
"At the end of winter I shall marry the fairest of them all and she will remain my wife for the rest of my life. Until my wedding, our current Winter Queen, Iduna, shall be my queen."
He took her hand and looked at her, whispering:
"And if I can give you your life back I will."
Behind Tyr Iduna saw Hvergel. The wizard was choking in anger and indignation and in his eyes she could read that no mercy would be showed to the current queen. She had no choice: she had to be the fairest at the end of winter.
She had three months of respite so she asked Tyr if she could invite her brother and his family at the castle. Permission was accorded without the slightest difficulty: Tyr was more preoccupied with dealing with Hvergel.
"Oh, Duna," exclaimed Isolde as soon as she arrived, "you will be his queen. You are so beautiful!"
"Iduna, you will pass the test, won't you? What are three months for you when you've been the fairest for ten years?"
"I am no longer young, Hodur," smiled Iduna, happy to see them.
Despite her joy Iduna didn't lose her mind. Everyday or so she slipped unnoticed in the small room and asked the mirror who answered, day after day:
"You are the fairest of them all, o queen."
During this time Sigurd and Isolde would explore the castle, hand in hand, for Sigurd didn't like his sister to be alone. Nobody dared to speak to them for Sigurd's eyes were blazing and the impudent who would have had the audacity to speak to Isolde would have paid dearly his crime. Everybody knew them to be of the same blood for they had the same traits, firm and strong for Sigurd, delicate and fine for Isolde.
Once Isolde was alone she met with a young man who bowed respectfully to her. She curtseyed back and the stranger smiled.
"Who are you, my lady? I never saw you here before."
"My name is Isolde, my lord. I am the niece of Queen Iduna."
"My name is Thor. And I'm the nephew of nobody, unfortunately for me."
Isolde laughed softly. She heard Sigurd's voice calling her and started.
"I must go!"
She left running and Thor called after her:
"But will I see you again?"
"Maybe!"
They did see each other again, Thor strangely appearing only when she was alone. They talked of things and other, him telling her of his mother, who had died so young, her telling him of Hefring, her mother, who had died in childbirth. She added fiercely:
"But better for her to have died like this rather than by the hand of King Thrall!"
"What do you mean?"
"The king's emissary was coming to bring her back to the castle, for her to marry the king! Did he wonder if she was already married, if she was happy in her life, if she didn't want to marry him? No, of course! He shouldn't have the right to steal women from their husband..."
"Was it the case for Queen Iduna? Did he... Was she married?"
"No, but she cared for us as if she had been our mother. We lived a happy life, father, Duna, Sigurd and me. Now we fear each week passing by, afraid it would bring us the news of her death."
"Yet she lived for ten years as the queen."
Isolde laughed gently.
"And she will live for long years, I hope! Nobody can be as fair as she is."
"Why are you so sure? Aren't you afraid the mirror will pick you?"
"Oh, no, I won't be chosen! Sigurd made sure of that!"
"What do you mean? What did he do?"
"Well, you know, the scarring."
"No, I don't know. Which scarring?"
"Oh, that's true, you nobles don't know about it. It's a custom we started ten years ago, when Duna was chosen. Each girl reaching fifteen and being pretty enough is scarred so the mirror won't pick her, since she's no more perfect."
"And you accept that? All of you?"
"Better scarred than dead, Thor. Better scarred than cause the death of someone you know."
"And you... your brother scarred you?"
"You promise you won't tell?" she asked shyly.
He nodded, speechless. She pushed the fringe covering her brow and he saw the star on it. She brushed away the long lock passing in front of her eye and descending along her cheek and he saw the half-moon on her left cheek.
"Sigurd couldn't bring himself to do more and I didn't want to be scarred. Mother hadn't been. But if I had had to die from the king's hand, Sigurd might have forgotten himself. He can be quite violent, you know, and I didn't want him to become a regicide because of me."
"Remind me to never cross his way," said Thor, trying to joke.
But she wasn't convinced.
"So this is how Queen Iduna remained queen for so long," he murmured.
"This is not her fault, but yes. She's now the only one who's not scarred."
"Don't you fear the mirror might overlook the scars and chose one of you even so?"
"It hadn't in ten years, had it? By the end of winter the nightmare will be over. King Tyr will chose a wife and will keep her. He had said so. Everybody will wish him a very long and happy life."
"Hvergel doesn't like King Tyr's idea."
"Hvergel likes nothing but power. He and his predecessors have enslaved the Winter Kings. But King Tyr will hopefully put an end to his evil reign."
"You admire him, don't you?" he asked, sounding jealous.
She laughed.
"He is a hero for the townsmen! He defies Hvergel and breaks the cruel custom. Some say that he doesn't want to marry his father's wife and wishes to let her live even so. It would be wonderful if it was true."
Thor nodded. He wanted to tell Isolde that her scars didn't disfigure her but somehow he knew that such a compliment wouldn't be well received.
The mirror couldn't be influenced but it could think and it was beginning to be seriously puzzled by the ten-years-long reign of Iduna. So its magic began to look closer and it understood the scars. It looked at them closer and closer and was satisfied to discover a pattern for some of them. It decided it was time to start a new type of beauty and scars would be part of them. Thus as Iduna came to ask it her fatal question it answered:
"O queen, you are fair to my sight, but Isolde is far more than you."
"Isolde? She's but a child! She's too young!" protested Iduna, fearing for her niece.
"She is the fairest of them all," replied the mirror.
Iduna thought lengthily at the problem. She would send Isolde away, in another land, so the mirror would never find her again. But then she remembered that Ran, Tyr's mother, had been sent away and the mirror had found her even so. She closed her eyes. She doubted Isolde would ever accept to become queen, thus signing her aunt's death. But the poor child wouldn't have any choice; yet she would rather kill herself than let Iduna be harmed.
"She's too young, she's too young..." she repeated endlessly.
She went to see her niece and took her in her arms, unable to think that by the end of winter, one of them would be dead. Isolde looked surprised by the display of affection but returned it willingly, smiling at her aunt. Iduna caressed her brow and felt the scar under her fingers. She pushed the fringe away and saw the star.
"Isolde, Isolde, my child... when were you scarred?"
"Last year, Duna."
"I never presented you the knife... I should have but..."
"Sigurd did. He scarred me himself."
"I didn't even think you were already fifteen by that time. Oh my little one..."
She cradled her against her but Isolde could feel her fear.
"What is wrong, Duna?"
"What would you do, Isolde my child, if you were chosen by the mirror?"
Isolde laughed gently.
"I can't be chosen, I'm scarred!"
She looked at her aunt and saw she was deadly serious. She clutched to her.
"Duna, no, I don't want to be chosen! I love someone else and I would rather kill myself than to be Tyr's wife! Am I to be chosen, Duna?"
"Maybe, Isolde, maybe..."
"Don't say it to father and Sigurd! Oh, don't tell them!"
Iduna hugged a last time Isolde and hurried toward Hvergel's tower.
The wizard bowed to her.
"Your Highness. It is not often that I'm honoured with your visit."
"Will the next queen live, Hvergel?" Iduna asked with a choked voice.
"Ah, I see you know that little Isolde is to be the next queen... No, she won't. She will die as soon as I know another one is fairer than she is."
"The king said..."
"What King Tyr said is not my problem, Your Highness. The kingdom is my problem, not its petty rulers."
"He wants a real queen, not just a beautiful object."
"He doesn't know what he wants, he knows nothing of women. If he knew how they trick people and manipulate them, he would agree with me."
"You don't want him to find comfort and friendship and love. You want him alone," Iduna realised. "The same way you had Thrall alone..."
"Thrall had you, Your Highness."
"He was as afraid as me that he would lose me. How can you begin to confide to someone when she can be taken away from you only a few days after? How could the hurt heal?"
"Precisely, Your Highness, precisely!"
"He will love Isolde. Everybody loves Isolde."
"Then she will die even sooner."
"No! Don't harm my Isolde! You cannot influence the mirror; if she's still the fairest she has to remain alive."
"Accidents do happen, Your Highness."
"You want me dead."
"Very good analysis! You've been the Winter Queen for far too long, Your Highness."
"You want to isolate the king so you can influence him. But he will listen to Isolde and confide to her. She doesn't like you; nobody likes you."
"It's often like this when people are powerful. They are feared and disliked. Tyr is a young fool; the accident could happen to him and well, in this case, I'm afraid I would be the only suitable candidate for the Winter Throne."
"You are talking of regicide here, Hvergel."
"Am I? I was led to understand that if something was to happen to little Isolde, her dear brother Sigurd would avenge her terribly. Naturally I could only sentence to death he who would have killed my king."
Hvergel's voice was very pious but Iduna was not fooled.
"Did you plan this ten years ago?" she asked weakly.
"Ah, no, Your Highness! Ten years ago I had no idea that the townsmen would scar their daughters, sisters and wives and I had no idea that you would last so long. Actually the idea came to me two days ago, when the mirror told me about Isolde."
"Is there any chance to spare Isolde?"
"None, Your Highness. She will die and you will die."
"And what if you died?"
"What? You would throw little Sigurd against me?"
Iduna took a deep breath.
"You're a fool, Hvergel. You think too much by death. Death often brings more problems than it solves. I could be your ally. I could bring your words to Tyr without him knowing it comes from you."
"The grey eminence behind the throne? Hmm, sounds interesting. But what about little Isolde?"
"I'm not talking about Isolde now, but about you and me."
"Am I understanding your words correctly, Your Highness? If you are the chosen one by the end of winter, you will be my ally against Tyr? He will keep his queen all his life but his queen will be on my side?"
Iduna smiled without answering.
"It would require Isolde's death and the death of all the other ones the mirror could find."
"Only the strong survive, Hvergel."
"Iduna, I underestimated you. Oh, by the way, if you betray me, you'll pay the price for your betrayal."
"The same is true for you, Hvergel."
"I know where my interests lie, Iduna."
"So do I, Hvergel."
"Come back to me tomorrow. I will have whatever we need for getting rid of precious little Isolde."
Iduna vaguely nodded and closed the door behind her. Only three weeks were left before the end of winter. Life, power and beauty were only an inch away: she had only one step to take. She closed the eyes, took a deep breath and made her decision.
The following day Sigurd had to leave early and Isolde wandered in the castle, hoping she would find Thor. He found her quite agitated.
"Thor, it's terrible! Duna told me that I could maybe be chosen by the mirror, as the new Winter Queen."
"And she would die and I would lose you forever," said Thor, anxious.
"No, no! Listen, I know, I'll scar my face again, I don't care anymore. I don't want to be queen. A huge scar. Would you care?"
"No, I wouldn't care and so would the mirror. If you are to be chosen, obviously the mirror overlooked your scars."
"So I can only die..."
"Why? What would that solve? I would lose you even more surely."
"But it would save Duna!"
He took her hand.
"Probably not. If the mirror selected someone with scars, it can select another one. I'm afraid her reign has come to an end."
"But there are only three weeks left! Surely, in such a short time..."
"You can't ask everybody to sacrifice so that Iduna may live. I'm sorry, Isolde, I don't think there's anything to be done for saving her, except if you can convince Tyr to let her live, despite Hvergel."
Isolde wept softly, like a child, and Thor took her in his arms.
"I don't want to be his queen, I want to be with you..."
"So do I, Isolde, so do I..."
"Oh, what will Sigurd say?" cried Isolde, hiding her face against Thor's shoulder.
Thor cradled her in his arms without saying anything.
"I have to go," she said. "Sigurd will soon be back."
"I know. Be careful."
"I will. Goodbye, Thor."
He forced himself to smile as she was hurrying toward her room.
As she entered her room Olrun, her friend - and lady-in-waiting - welcomed her joyfully.
"Isolde, look what Her Highness the queen sent you! Isn't it beautiful?"
She showed a corselet of black velvet, with white borders and small red roses embroidered on the borders.
"It's like you, Isolde: black as ebony, white as snow and red as blood," said Olrun, showing the red roses on the white borders.
Isolde had a smile when thinking of her mother's wish.
"It is beautiful," she agreed. "You said Duna sent it to me?"
"Yes, she said it was too narrow for her and that you may try it. If it fits, it's yours."
"What a pretty gift! Hurry, help me put it on, please, I want to wear it to thank her!"
Olrun obeyed at once and Isolde looked ravishing in the new corselet. She thanked Olrun for her quickness and ran out of her room to Iduna's rooms.
She had scarcely run a few steps that she felt dizzy and she slowed down her pace.
"I started too violently," she thought.
But she couldn't breathe and it seemed to her the corselet was crushing her ribs.
"Olrun must have laced it too tight, but it didn't feel that way at the beginning..."
She tried to come back to her room, to ask Olrun to unlace it, but it was harder and harder for her to breathe. She fell unconscious on the floor.
A shout able to make one's blood run cold resounded in the corridors and Sigurd appeared suddenly. He fell on his knees by Isolde's side and it didn't take him long to understand what was the problem with his sister. Without waiting he cut the laces of her corselet.
"Breathe, Isolde, breathe!" he begged.
She took a deep breath and opened slowly her eyes.
"Sigurd..."
"Luckily for you I came in time! Why did you lace it so tight?"
"I didn't... and I don't think Olrun did either. It was... as if the corselet was getting tighter and tighter with each breath I was taking!"
"We should send for Duna. She will know," he said, helping her to stand up.
"How did you know something was wrong?" wondered Isolde.
"Olrun told me about the gift. Duna would have been here to see you try it on, don't you think? It just seemed strange to me."
There was something in his eyes but Isolde couldn't find out what. Sigurd was sometimes very mysterious.
Iduna was in the mirror room, standing in front of the mirror.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" she asked.
"O queen, you are fair to my sight, but Isolde is far more than you," the mirror replied.
Iduna closed her eyes and left the room; as she was closing the door behind her Olrun appeared by her side.
"Your Highness, my lady Isolde would like a word with you. Something got awfully wrong with the gift you gave her!"
Immediately Iduna ran to Isolde's rooms, followed by Olrun.
"Isolde, darling, is it true? Olrun told me the corselet crushed your ribs! Are you all right?"
"Yes, I am. Where did that corselet come from?"
"I had it for quite a while but I never wore it. I thought today that it might fit you. I'm sorry, honey, I had no idea it would harm you! I mean, it's only a corselet!"
"Don't worry, Duna," said Isolde, smiling to her aunt, "I'm fine now, thanks to Sigurd!"
She smiled tenderly to her brother who was looking at Iduna. The queen seemed relieved.
"Yes, thank you, Sigurd! What a chance you arrived before it was too late!"
"I hope it will always be so," replied Sigurd, circling his sister's shoulders with his arm in a protective movement. "Why didn't you stay with Isolde for her to try the corselet, Duna?"
She started.
"I didn't think... I thought she would like to surprise me if she could wear it."
Sigurd nodded.
"Isolde, darling, be careful!" advised Iduna.
After a last smile, she left the room. Sigurd held his sister against him and then looked down at her.
"Duna is right. You have to be careful."
"What's happening, Sigurd?"
He caressed her cheek.
"You're beautiful, Isolde, so very beautiful... The scars don't disfigure you, they even give you a new charm... I'm sorry, it's my fault, I should have scarred you differently... I have to blame my pride, I guess. Stay with Olrun most of the time, do you hear me? Or wait for me."
"I don't understand, Sigurd!"
He smiled at her.
"Ah, I guess I'm too worried!"
"Sigurd, if you think of the Winter Queen... then it's Duna who's in danger! The corselet was hers and it's only per chance it arrived in my hands! Surely someone wants to kill her to take her place by the end of winter! It's so near now, only three weeks from today!"
"Why don't you go ask the mirror?" asked Sigurd with a smile.
"I don't have the key, Sigurd," she said reproachfully. "Only the king and his wizard have it."
"Really?" murmured Sigurd. "Be careful, Isolde," he added aloud. "If you go see father, please, please take Olrun with you."
"I will," she said, though she went to see Thor on her own.
Thor also was worried when she told him but she laughed at his worries for her and shared with him her worries for Iduna.
"But, think, Thor, three weeks! It's so short, the mirror could never find a new queen in time!"
"It's magical, Isolde. It could find a new queen in less than one week for Thrall. Meanwhile be careful; maybe it was Iduna who was aimed at but you did get harmed instead of her."
One week passed with no incident and Sigurd began to relax, stopping to start for each and every noise and no more bursting into Isolde's rooms without any warning, just to be sure she was well and unharmed. Then one afternoon, soon after Sigurd had left for a horse ride with Hodur and some friends, Iduna entered Isolde's rooms. Olrun was here, as usual, and the two were talking joyfully about the books they were reading.
"Olrun, dear, could you fetch me my ivory comb, please? I'm afraid I left it in my room," said Iduna with an apologetic smile.
Olrun obeyed at once, though she wanted to remark that the queen could have come with one of her ladies-in-waiting, whom she would have sent instead of her. As soon as the door closed softly behind her, Isolde protested gently:
"But Sigurd told me to never go anywhere without Olrun!"
"You're not going anywhere," said Iduna, looking surprised. "And am I not here with you?"
She sat by Isolde and whispered to her:
"Look, I bought this today during my walk outside. I thought they were just made for you. Soon we're going to have a great ceremony for King Tyr's wedding and I thought that maybe you would want to impress your young man..."
"Thor?" murmured Isolde with a faint blush.
"Yes, Thor. Look: aren't they beautiful?"
She showed her four combs in silver, inlaid with tiny jewels twinkling at her; when moved under a ray of light, the combs shone like the rainbow.
"They are exquisite! Oh, Duna, this is wonderful!"
"There, let me show you the beauty you can be," Iduna smiled knowingly.
She stood up and led Isolde to the mirror. She stood behind her and began to comb the long dark hair. Isolde protested:
"Duna, no, my scars!"
"Don't worry, honey, I'll show you what we can do..."
She combed the hair till it was smooth and then skilfully put the four silver combs in the black hair so that they were shining with each move of Isolde's head. The new hairstyle let see Isolde's star on her brow and Iduna, still smiling, covered it with gold and silver particles and put silver particles on the half-moon on her cheek.
"Here you are, angel. Go see your Thor!"
"Tell Olrun I'll be back soon!" exclaimed Isolde, excited like a child.
Iduna smiled indulgently and slowly took the way of her own rooms.
Isolde was half way to the place where she usually met with Thor when she felt half-sick. Her head was throbbing and the corridor seemed to turn around her. She put her hand on the wall next to her so she wouldn't fall but her legs were giving way and she collapsed on the floor, not even able to utter the smallest sound.
Iduna had hardly opened her door that she shrieked in horror. Sigurd, who couldn't stay long away from Isolde and was already coming from his ride, ran to her aunt.
"That's horrible..." she stammered.
"Where is Isolde?" shouted Sigurd, afraid for he didn't see her with Iduna.
"I don't know... She left her room for somewhere..."
He prepared to leave and she clutched his arm.
"Don't leave me alone! There's a body in my room!"
"Dead?" asked Sigurd between clenched teeth.
"In all likeness, yes!" she moaned.
"Then it's too late, but for Isolde, it may still be time! Summon your ladies-in-waiting, you are the queen, for God's sake!"
He left off running and didn't lose time in finding his sister, lying unconscious on the marble floor of a corridor, Thor kneeling by her side. He had already checked her corselet and everything was normal on this side. Actually everything seemed fine except that she was very pale and her breath shallow. Sigurd noticed the glitter on her face and angrily wiped it away. While trying to reason the frantic Sigurd, Thor saw that Isolde’s hair was most unusually done; surprised, he took off the first two combs he saw and examined them. Suspicious he put them aside carefully and looked for others. The last two ones were harder to find, hidden under the heavy hair. Sigurd slipped the combs under his belt and lifted Isolde in his arms to carry her back to her room, leaving Thor behind.
Iduna was waiting for him here and as he laid down Isolde on her bed, he asked angrily:
"Where is Olrun?"
"In my room," replied Iduna.
"What is she doing there? I told her to never leave Isolde!"
"She's dead."
"She's... what?"
Sigurd turned to his aunt.
"I told you I had a body in my room," Iduna said with a whining voice.
He grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Olrun is dead?" he repeated. "You!" he exclaimed, seeing a page in the corridor. "Go fetch some ladies-in-waiting for the queen and for my sister and ask the physician to come quickly. My sister is ill."
"My lord, for the beautiful Isolde, my feet shall run as if they had wings," promised the pageboy, leaving at once running.
Several women entered the room, too early for having been summoned by the page and Sigurd briefly thought of the young man he had found by Isolde’s side. There was no time for this problem right now and Sigurd directed the ladies-in-waiting to Iduna. One of them came to him and murmured:
"I was a friend of Olrun."
He looked up at her.
"Vanadis, I am glad to see you," he said gloomily. "Isolde is sick... I don't know what to do!"
"Entrust me with her health," Vanadis whispered. "My life responds of hers. Another task awaits you in the queen's rooms."
Sigurd nodded and left the room to take care of Olrun's body.
When he came back the physician was at Isolde's bedside and looked worried.
"Poison," he said immediately when seeing Sigurd. "Skilfully administered. A few moments more and she was beyond hope."
A murderous glow appeared in Sigurd's eyes.
"Would that do?" he asked, holding out one of the combs.
The physician examined it briefly and vaguely nodded.
"It could. I'm not sure. I need to do some experiments. But it certainly looked fit for such a use."
"Keep it then, I have the three others."
The physician forced a liquid down Isolde's throat and instructed Vanadis to give it her every two hours. Some moments after Isolde's eyes fluttered open.
"Sigurd..." she murmured, smiling weakly.
"Who gave you those combs?"
"Duna did..."
"And why did you let Olrun leave you alone?"
"I wasn't alone, I was with Duna... She had forgotten her comb in her room and asked Olrun to fetch it for her. Where is Olrun?"
"She's dead. She's been killed in Duna's room, stabbed in the back."
Isolde's eyes grew wide with terror and shock.
"Dead? Olrun's dead? But... but how? Why?"
Then, agitated, she continued:
"First the corselet that luckily fell into my hands, then Olrun killed in Duna's room! It's dangerous, Sigurd, Duna's in danger!"
"That's why you were poisoned, of course," replied Sigurd ironically, unable to restrain himself. "Duna, I would appreciate you stopping your gifts to Isolde. At least until King Tyr chooses his wife."
"What do you mean, Sigurd?"
"I mean that someone uses your gifts to try to kill my sister. Isolde cannot doubt you, it would be doubting her own mother, wouldn't it? What could be the only reason for someone to want Isolde dead but King Tyr's impending wedding?"
"Sigurd, surely, you're not accusing me..." protested Iduna, paling.
"I would rather not, Duna, but look, the events are against you: you gave the corselet, you gave the combs, you sent Olrun to your room and you would have delayed me in my search for Isolde. What's more, you are the first one to take advantage of a rival's death. Your life is at stake."
Iduna stood up, looking utterly hurt.
"Sigurd, I can't believe what I'm hearing. I love you like I would love my own son and yet you're accusing me of having tried to kill my little Isolde! Why not accuse me of having stabbed Olrun, while you're at it?"
"I am a man, Duna, and not likely to be a threat for you as King Tyr's choice. But I swear this today, if ever my Isolde should fall under those mysterious attacks, I shall not know any respite, any rest till the culprit is caught and duly punished! Even if I must die while accomplishing this, I shall avenge my sister and Olrun."
"Olrun?"
"Maybe you didn't know, Duna, but Olrun and I were engaged, which was why I so trusted her with Isolde's safety. It seemed that someone had not underestimated her faithfulness to Isolde."
Iduna, offended, left the room with her ladies-in-waiting, leaving only Sigurd and Vanadis behind her. The physician came back a bit later, confirming Sigurd's suspicions: the combs were responsible of Isolde's poisoning.
Isolde remained in bed during one week. During this time Sigurd never left her bedside - not caring when someone protested it wasn't proper - and Vanadis remained faithfully by his side also. Isolde received plenty words of wishes for her to feel better, even a word from King Tyr himself, who wished well to the niece of the Winter Queen - he never wrote his queen. Thor managed to slip his card among others, just signed with a T but she knew it was from him. She felt rather guilty to hide his existence to Sigurd who cared so much for her but she was afraid he would suspect Thor also of wishing harm to her. She didn’t know Sigurd already knew about Thor and that he owed him Isolde’s life for he would never have found the combs in the frantic state he had been by the time.
One week only was left before the choice of the mirror and the whole castle was getting frantic. The kitchens were doing and redoing menus without ever being satisfied. The tailor was driven to despair since he didn't know the bride and thus couldn't take care of her wedding gown. Strangely King Tyr kept hidden in his rooms and so did Queen Iduna. Hvergel wasn't seen either and sometimes the chamberlain and butler were pestering for lack of directions.
Such a marriage was a great occasion, since Tyr would be the first Winter King to have a real queen and maybe it would ease the genealogy of the Winter Kings. The chamberlain had always a hard time finding a new heir since usually no queen remained alive long enough for giving an heir to the throne. Iduna had been an exception, both by the fact that she had remained queen for ten years and then because she hadn't had any children.
During this last week Isolde was taking a walk in the gardens with Vanadis, who had proved to be as nice and trustworthy as Olrun. The end of the winter was near but, as always, the gardens of the king were quite warm, the trees with ripe fruits all year long and flowers blossoming.
"You are getting cold, my lady," said Vanadis. "I'm going to get you your cloak."
"Thank you, Vanadis. I will sit over there, next to this old woman."
Vanadis frowned.
"I do not know her, my lady. Maybe I should rather ask a page to fetch your cloak."
"Nonsense, Vanadis. What could this old woman do to me?"
"Ah, my lady, beware of the poison! One does not need to be strong to use it!"
"I will be careful, Vanadis, I promise. And my name is Isolde, please, not 'my lady'."
Vanadis smiled and hurried, leaving Isolde sitting on a little bench.
The old woman turned to her and smiled.
"Aren't you the young lass who got poisoned not long ago?" she asked with her cackling voice.
"Yes, I am, my lady," replied politely Isolde.
"And I bet they gave you only broth to eat during all this time, poor child!"
Isolde smiled, amused.
"Indeed they did."
"You must be starving! Would you like," she added, her voice hardly above a whisper, "an apple from my basket?"
Her basket was full of red apples, shining as if polished.
"Or maybe, you would prefer to have one from the tree," said the woman before Isolde could say a word. "I mean, one who had already been poisoned should be careful. There, let me pick you one."
She took a beautiful apple from the tree whose branches were shadowing the bench and brought it to Isolde. The apple was half-white and half-red and Isolde was reminded of the corselet and Olrun's voice sounded again in her ears:
"It's like you, Isolde: black as ebony, white as snow and red as blood."
There wasn't anything black in the apple, except for the stalk, but still it half-frightened Isolde.
"What is it, child? Are you afraid this apple is poisoned? I'll tell you what: I'll eat half of it with you."
The old woman took a knife from her robes and was about to cut the apple, right between the white and red halves. Isolde slightly shook the head and turned the apple of a quarter.
"White for both of us, red for both of us," she said.
The old woman shrugged.
"As you wish, child."
She cut the apple and gave an half to Isolde. As for her she bit heartily in her half and smiled to Isolde.
"Mm, the apples of this garden are so delicious!"
Hungry Isolde looked down at the half she was holding in her hand. The apple was smelling so good and she was so tired of broth! She bit in it, choosing the red side first. As she swallowed it she let her half fall on the ground and clutched her throat, looking at the old woman, gasping. The old woman put her half on the bench, the white side wearing the marks of her teeth, and took Isolde in her arms.
"What is it, child?" she exclaimed.
Isolde looked at her eyes and recognised them without possible doubt.
"Duna..." she murmured.
Iduna cradled her in her arms till she died and when Vanadis came back with the cloak, Isolde was lying on the bench, two halves of an apple next to her. Vanadis fell on her knees and wept bitterly.
Iduna went to the mirror room and opened the door with the key she had replicated from Thrall's.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" she asked softly.
"You are the fairest of them all, o queen."
Iduna smiled a bit sadly and closed the door behind her. Only two days were left before the last mirror day.
Cries of despair filled Isolde's room as Sigurd, Hodur and Vanadis were kneeling by the bed where she was lying. Iduna was afraid by the light in Sigurd's eyes. One would have thought he had become mad with grief.
"Blood calls for blood," he said, jaws clenched. "One does not go beyond the point of no return with impunity."
Hodur turned his sad eyes toward him.
"Be careful, Sigurd. I don't want to lose my two children. One already is too much..."
Sigurd vaguely nodded, glared at Iduna and left Isolde's room.
Two days after Tyr, accompanied with Iduna and Hvergel, followed by half the court, opened wide the doors of the mirror room. The king had noticed that several people were sad and indifferent to the great occasion but he dared not ask questions. King Tyr was a young man who didn't want to press people when in sorrow.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" he asked, his voice ringing down the hall.
"She who stands by your side, o king, is the fairest alive, but the fairest of them all she is not, for death claimed she who would have been and holds her frozen in its knot."
Iduna paled visibly and Hvergel himself seemed taken off-guard by the declaration. Tyr asked, surprised:
"Then who is the fairest of them all? Who is she who must walk my hall?"
"Isolde is her name and she lies in a glass coffin; her breath doesn't tarnish the glass nor her moves disturb the satin."
"Isolde!"
Tyr's distress was visible from everybody.
"Hurry!" he said to his court. "We must go to Isolde."
"Your Majesty!" claimed a voice, stopping everybody.
Sigurd appeared suddenly from the crowd and knelt in front of Tyr.
"Your Majesty, I claim justice for my sister who has been murdered, I claim justice for my fiancée who has been murdered!"
"Murders in my palace? I will listen to you, Sigurd."
"Three attempts against my sister were made, Your Majesty, and the last one was the fatal one. But the second one hit my fiancée, or rather, stabbed her. I've tracked the culprit and now I call for justice, Your Majesty!"
"Justice will be done. The names?" said coldly Tyr.
"He stands by your side, Your Majesty! Hvergel, your wizard, created the poisons and held the knife that killed Olrun!"
"Hvergel!"
Iduna read in Sigurd's eyes that he knew everything but that he wouldn't accuse her for what she had been for them before becoming a murderess. But she knew also that Hvergel wouldn't be so kind to her. The wizard had a thin smile.
"What do you answer to those accusations, Hvergel?"
"He's young, Your Majesty, and obviously devastated by his sister's death. I shall forgive such an outburst against my person. He didn't produce any proof, did he? It is well-known that I'm not their favourite person... He could also accuse Elvidnir, after all. Your father was going to marry his mother, he took his aunt and now his sister is dead, why, it's so natural to accuse me!"
"I found the knife that stabbed Olrun, the very knife that cut the poisoned apple that killed my sister! I found the poison used on the silver combs that nearly killed Isolde and I found also the other poison used on the apple!" shouted Sigurd, enraged. "Don't you recognise them as your owns, wizard?" he added, throwing a knife on the ground and taking two phials from his belt.
"Hvergel, he's right. I do recognise your knife and those phials come straight from your laboratory. So, your explanations?"
"Well, Your Majesty, I could hardly have been killing young Olrun while poisoning young Isolde at the same time, couldn't I? Is the herbalist guilty for the use made of his herbs once they've left his shop?"
"What, you had a accomplice?"
"Didn't the mirror already give you the answer to this question? Who takes advantage of Isolde's death?"
All the gazes turned toward Iduna.
"So," she said with a forced laugh, "the wizard falls and wants to bring down as many people as possible with him. Hvergel has always wanted the Winter Queens to die, naturally this is his best occasion. Why would I have killed my own niece, my sweet Isolde?"
The light in Sigurd's eyes told her she should better not insist too much on the pretence.
"Because she would have robbed you of your title, my lady," said Tyr coldly. "Indeed Hvergel has always wanted the Winter Queens to die and you knew he would do his best to make you fall if another one was chosen today. Instead of believing in my word, you chose to ally yourself with Hvergel. Maybe did you plan my fall with him?"
Iduna was crestfallen.
"Isn't it your fault also?" she said angrily. "Your mirror chose someone in your land and this someone has to be yours! What about her life, her wishes, her relatives? If your father had let me live in peace with my brother, Isolde would still be alive!"
Sigurd picked up the knife he had thrown on the ground only moments earlier and clutched it nervously.
"Duna," he murmured, his voice half-broken, "just tell me you sincerely regretted each of your acts against Isolde, just tell me you would have saved her after if you could have, when seeing her slowly dying..."
"Regrets!" burst Iduna. "Sigurd, little Sig, I held her in my arms until she died from the poisoned apple! Maybe I felt remorse the first time, with the corselet, I wasn't ready then, but after, why regret? She would have died sooner or later and she would have preferred to die thinking she was protecting me! And you! You scarred her, like everybody else was scarred, but you couldn't bring yourself to disfigure her for good, could you? A star and an half-moon, really!"
"You're crazy, Duna, crazy..."
Tyr looked at Hvergel and Iduna with disgust.
"You two don't deserve anything but death. Someone find the executioner, I don't think I can stand their sight any longer."
"Do not bother, their executioner is already there. Is it only justice that the knife that killed my fiancée should kill her murderer and that the poison that killed my sister kills her murderess..." said Sigurd with a dangerous voice, his fingers tightening around the dagger's hilt.
"No, Sig, no... Remember, I brought you up..." begged Iduna.
"You brought her up also! She trusted you blindly, does that mean nothing to you? Then why should it mean something to me?" shouted Sigurd, blind with grief.
Tyr, half-sick, left the room and hurried to Isolde's room. Strangely nobody had to lead him there, as if he already knew the way. He knelt by the glass coffin fiercely guarded by Hodur, who at first didn't want to let the king approach it. Tyr extended the hand toward the coffin, as if he could touch Isolde's face, and murmured:
"I swore I would marry the fairest of them all but never did I say she had to be alive. You are the fairest, Isolde, and thus are to be my bride. Bring the coffin before the priest."
"Your Majesty..." objected Hodur.
"Do as he says, father," said Sigurd's voice from the threshold.
There was some blood on his clothes and he looked haggard.
"Let's carry it."
Hodur, Sigurd and the page who had once been Sigurd's messenger for saving Isolde stepped forward. Tyr undid his heavy ceremonial cloak and let it slide on the ground without caring before stepping forward to lift the glass coffin on his shoulder. Vanadis picked up the cloak and followed the procession to the priest, who was more than embarrassed when seeing who was the bride.
"Open the coffin," commanded Tyr as he knelt beside it in front of the priest.
"But will the... uh... bride consent?" asked the priest.
"She does," said firmly Sigurd.
The priest looked with fright at the young man pale like a ghost, with blood on his clothes and her right hand still clutching a bloodstained dagger. He began the ceremony, not willing to stand in front of such a terrible threat. He stopped by himself in the middle of it.
"Was is the name of the bride?"
"Isolde," said Sigurd. "Isolde the beautiful, my only star..."
He closed the eyes, his fingers tightening around the dagger's hilt and Vanadis gently touched his arm.
"I declare you husband and wife," said hastily the priest a few minutes after and Tyr faithfully slipped a gold ring at Isolde's finger. "You may... uh... kiss the bride."
"Bring me the cup," commanded Tyr.
The Winter Queen was granted the same immortal youth as her husband and the elixir of youth was preciously kept by the priests, for it was only given at the wedding of the king - the first wedding for the king and at each wedding for the queen, since the new heir couldn't marry before the death of the previous king.
The golden cup containing the elixir was brought to Tyr who lifted Isolde's head on his arm and gently eased down her throat some of the philtre. He gave back the cup without looking at the attendant and only gazed at Isolde.
"Isolde, my love, my life..." he murmured. "My wife..."
He bent down and gently kissed her. He looked at her a moment more then stood up.
"Sigurd, I grieve with you. My family has done much wrong to yours and I'll try to repair it in the limits of my modest capacities. Naturally nothing can..."
"Thor?" murmured a small voice.
Tyr looked down and Isolde's eyes were open, looking at him. He stumbled.
"Am I dreaming? Isolde!"
He opened his arms to her and helped her to step outside the coffin. She looked around her and saw Sigurd. A bit confused she gently disentangled herself from Tyr's embrace.
"Sigurd, you were right. Duna... she gave me a poisoned apple, I recognised her eyes..."
"Duna is dead," said Sigurd mechanically, still trying to recover from his shock.
"Oh! And, Sigurd, I would introduce you to Thor, who... well, I love him."
Tyr grinned.
"Isolde, my love, I'm afraid the masquerade is over. My name is not Thor; I am Tyr, Winter King."
Isolde opened her eyes wide in disbelief. She looked down at her left hand and saw the gold ring.
"Am I... am I your wife?"
"I'm afraid you are the Winter Queen," he confirmed.
"Is she still willing?" risked the priest.
"You never asked any of the previous queens for their opinion before," said Hodur bitterly.
"It's a life-long wedding here," replied the priest.
Isolde shrugged.
"I love Thor; Thor and Tyr are one and the same. Now if Tyr is the Winter King, it's not my problem," she said, half-smiling.
Then she bent down the head.
"May I see Duna?"
"Later."
"Why?"
"Because I need to ask the mirror if you are really the fairest of them all, naturally!" replied Tyr, feigning surprise.
|
