Mary Anne Gruen - The House of Red

It was very cold in the basement dungeon of what had once been Red Riding Hood the Third’s castle. During her reign, the former Queen had never done anything to improve the situation, though a few liberal types had made some suggestions.

“What do I care about the comfort of my captives?” the Queen had said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Of course, she had no way of knowing that she would one day be staying in the dungeon. If she had, she would have done things differently. But then, a lot of people would do things differently if they knew what the future held.

The dungeon was a cavernous place, broken off into two floors, both of them damp and dirty. There were no windows and no light save for the occasional torch, which didn’t always get replaced when they went out. The upper floor of the dungeon was for “questioning” prisoners, but there were several cells there also. Some were small and a couple were quite large. The lower floor was made up entirely of endless rows of tiny single cells that made the ones Tony and Wolf had known at Snow White Memorial Prison look huge in comparison. They were divided with sturdy rock walls that faced onto aisles with more rock walls. The idea was to limit the contact each prisoner could have with other living beings. It was rumored that it had worked so well in a couple of cases, that prisoners had been forgotten and left to die accidentally.

After her capture, the Queen was put in a dungeon cell on the lower dungeon floor next to her private secretary’s. Many of the castle guards had been taken there as well, but Burly ordered them kept apart from the Queen. He was afraid she might try leading them in the Second Kingdom’s national anthem or something thoroughly disgusting like that. So, he had her and the twiggish secretary tucked into a far off corner on their own. Burly didn’t know it, but he had done them a kindness.

The first day of their incarceration, the Queen and Ichabod were given no food, only a dipper of water. They wouldn’t have gotten that, except that Burly planned to have the Queen tortured and questioned the next day. His father had always said, “Deny a prisoner food and water if you want. But don’t overdo it if you still want to torture and question them later. They might pass out and spoil the fun.”

Outside the castle the trolls were celebrating the acquisition of their new kingdom. But of course Ichabod and Red knew nothing of that. They only knew cold, hunger, thirst, and the beginnings of friendship.

When Ichabod came to, he heard his Queen’s voice calling his name. He’d been dreaming, lost in a terrible nightmare about the Queen being eaten by a giant.

“Ichabod,” the Queen called. She’d heard him moaning and she thought he might be awake. When Ichabod opened his eyes the first thing he saw was a dirty gray stone ceiling. Then he lifted up his head and he saw dirty gray walls.

“Ichabod,” the Queen said again.

“Your Majesty?” Ichabod still hadn’t processed his location. After all, he’d never been down in the dungeons. He’d only heard about them. He sat up straight and looked around behind him. The metal bars of his miniscule cage told him where he was. “Your Majesty?” he repeated.

“I’m in the next cell,” the Queen said.

Ichabod got up off the stone floor and leaned his face against the bars. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m just cold. I haven’t got any shoes and my dress is ripped. And I think I’m badly bruised. Otherwise, I’m fine.”

The Queen’s dress was actually in good shape, considering the way the giant had grabbed at it. It was a tribute to the careful workmanship of her dressmaker. The several petticoats underneath allowed her to sit with her feet tucked in so she could keep her feet at least a little warm. It was her bodice that was the problem. The moiré dress had a plunging neckline and was slightly off the shoulders. In all the rough handling by Spider the giant, the sleeves had become torn loose from the top of the dress.

Ichabod thought for a moment. “Your Majesty, if I reach out my hand can you touch me?

“I beg your pardon,” she said.

“You can have my shoes. And I have a jacket. You can have that too. But I need to see if you can reach that far.”

“Oh. I see what you mean. All right.”

The Queen put her left arm through the bars. And Ichabod reached his right out to meet her. It was a good thing he was so thin. Their fingertips could just touch.

“That’s enough,” he said. “I’ll pass you my jacket first.”

The buttons on the jacket echoed slightly against the metal bars as Ichabod pushed it through. But since no one was watching them, no one cared.

“You have it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll pass you my shoes next.” Ichabod sat down on the floor of his cell and took off his shoes. He wished he’d polished them that morning as he’d meant to. But it couldn’t be helped. “How do they fit?” he asked after he passed them through.

“Not bad.”

The shoes were ridiculously long on her feet. And she preferred the slimming effect heels had on her legs. But the jacket fit quite well, actually. Ichabod was taller then the Queen, but he wasn’t any broader.

“I don’t think my couturier wouldn’t care for it,” the Queen said. “I think he would especially object to the shoes. It will do, though.”

“Good.”

They spent a long time in silence after that. They could hear the trolls bringing in more prisoners. But no one came down to their aisle.

Finally, somewhere around nightfall, the Queen said, “I’m hungry.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there, your Majesty.”

“I wonder what they’re going to do with us.”

“Perhaps, they’ll charge a ransom for you. I’m sure the Council and your friend Queen Leaf Fall would pay handsomely to have you released.”

“Perhaps,” the Queen said, but she doubted it. Ichabod had been unconscious when Burly had talked about torturing and questioning her and burning her in a big public execution. She had always been a self-centered woman. But she was still queen, still Red Riding Hood’s granddaughter. When the time came, if the time came, she hoped that she would do her grandmother proud.

“I’m sure the rest of the Nine Kingdoms will come to our defense,” Ichabod said.

“With our destruction, they’ll have to concentrate on defending themselves, especially if more giants join the trolls.”

“But surely they’d try and rescue you, your Majesty.”

“Not in the midst of a major war. Who would risk so much to come and save one woman?”

“I would,” Ichabod said.

The Queen smiled a vague smile. “Thank you.”

A few hours later a drunken troll came to give them each a dipper of water. “All hail the New Troll Kingdom!” he screamed at the top of his scratchy voice. The irritating sound thundered across the stone walls.

“Yes, all hail,” the Queen said dryly.

The troll staggered and tried to see her more clearly. “You know. You’d be a lot prettier if you had a bigger nose and large pointy teeth. Oh, well.” He passed the water through the bars to her. “You,” he said to Ichabod. “You look like a dried up old twig. Here, drink this before you snap apart. We want to have the fun of doing that ourselves.” The troll laughed heartily at what he thought was a joke. Then he retreated back into the dim recesses of the dungeon.

“Your Majesty?” Ichabod said, after the troll was gone. “Do you want my water?”

The Queen thought about it. Her mouth was dry, her lip paint long ago worn off. She wanted it badly. But she was Red Riding Hood’s granddaughter, she reminded herself. And she had to be strong. “No. You drink it. We don’t know when we’ll get more.”

They slept fitfully after that, each leaning against the wall they shared. It was the first time Red had slept in the presence of anyone. That is, except for her mother and nurse when she was a little child. Her mother, Queen Red Riding Hood the Second, had always adored her. In fact, she’d made her daughter the very center of her life. Certainly her father hadn’t cared about her. He’d been too involved with his mistresses and the army to even notice her. She knew her mother would have gotten rid of him if he she could have. But he was so popular with the people because of his military talents. The Second Kingdom survived the Magic War so well because of him.

Unfortunately, she had not inherited her father’s talent for war. She had only inherited his good looks.

Late into the night, Red woke up. She noticed the torch nearest their cells had gone out. The dungeon almost echoed with silence, except for a vague scratching sound just outside her cell. She hated to think what might be making that sound. It was too dark to tell. She only knew that her resolve wasn’t as strong anymore. Was it daylight yet? Would they be coming to question her soon? Or to execute her? She didn’t want to burn. She wasn’t made for this. She was made for silk sheets and scented baths, and sumptuous candlelight meals with teams of servants to wait on her. She wasn’t her grandmother. It was cold. She was hungry. And the bruises the giant had given her were throbbing. Tears of self-pity started flowing from her eyes onto her torn dress. She sniffled softly, wishing she had a proper handkerchief.

“Your Majesty?” Ichabod said. “Are you crying?”

“Yes.” There was another small sniffle and then her tears became sobs. “I don’t want to die,” she cried. “I can’t be my grandmother.”

“Nobody expects you to be.”

“Oh, yes they do. But I can’t. I’m not one of the Great Women of History.”

Ichabod reached his hand through the bars of his cell. “Yes, you are,” he said, soothingly. “And I don’t believe destiny intends for you to die here. Somehow your grandmother’s kingdom will go on.”

“But Gretel’s ended. As great as she was, her whole kingdom fell after she was gone. And then it went to the trolls.”

“That won’t happen to the Second Kingdom. Somehow it will be saved. And if I’m given the opportunity, I’ll make sure you’re saved along with it. I promise on my life.”

Red reached her hand through the bars and touched the tips of his fingers. “Thank you. I’m glad they put you down here with me.”

“I am too.”

In another hour or so, four trolls came to Red’s cell.

The leader wore an extremely tall pair of lace boots and had knotted hair almost to his waist. “Good morning, your Majesty!” the booted troll said jovially. “I hope you slept well. Prince Burly requests an audience with you on the next floor. He has many things that he wants to talk to you about.” He waved to one of his men to unlock the cell.

“NO!” Ichabod yelled.

But no one paid attention. They took Red out of her cell and led her away. She wasn’t able to walk with the pride and confidence that she’d hoped to the day before. Her head was bowed to her chest and her steps were uncertain in Ichabod’s large shoes. But at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

Red was gone all day and night. They didn’t bring her back till the next morning. This time they had to carry her because she was unconscious.

“Your Majesty!” Ichabod called when he saw her.

But of course she couldn’t reply. The booted troll wasn’t in attendance this time. Broken queens weren’t worth his time. There were only two trolls. One to carry Red and the other to unlock the door of her cell. There was no trace of gentility as they tossed her in and left.

“Your Majesty!” Ichabod called again. But it was no use. This time he had to wait for her to wake up. He never questioned whether she would or not. She simply had to.