33
After a week, we moved Madb to the north tower room. There she tore up her bed, broke all of the furniture, and had lunch. After two more weeks she was semi-lucid, and could carry on short conversations. I made it a point to visit her each night after dinner. She was calmest after the late meal.
The room was a cell, with bars from stone floor to stone ceiling. We had few criminals, and the tower rooms were kept clean, and furnished. I saw no reason to jail people in dungeons. Those who were locked up, were only jailed until their hearing, to keep them from harming others, running and making a mess of things. In the last three years, only one murder was committed. I exiled him to the wastelands, at Beth’s border, south of our realm. Perhaps he made it somewhere; I honestly didn’t care.
Sitting down in the chair outside the bars, I opened my book and began to read. Many nights Madb didn’t talk to me at all. We just sat, reading.
Tonight, she asked, "How long are you going to keep me locked up here?"
"Until Alexis says you’re cured. You’ve been violent for a while. Should I ask her to open your door?"
She looked at the locked door, and then shook her head, "Not yet. I’m getting back my memory — bits and pieces. Scrambled eggs on broccoli sticks!" She grabbed the sides of her head, by her ears, and then calmed. "I don’t like what I see in my head. I don’t like what I’ve done."
I thought of Víðarr, and his idea that if it was his body, then it was his action, but decided to say it anyway. "You were not in control, Madb."
"Think that matters to my guards?" she asked.
"It mattered to Bryce. That’s why he brought you here, instead of killing you. He felt you needed healing, not punishment."
"What’s he looking at these days?" she snarled.
Her emotions were still out of her control most of the time, so I tried to ignore the snarls and hurtful comments. "Darkness. Still. His eyes have returned, but not his sight. Alexis is hopeful though that he will eventually recover completely." Then I added, "He’s reading though."
"What?" she asked, her eyes clearing with the question.
"We have a whole shelf of books in braille. Mostly novels."
"Blind Minotaur reads about the blind Minotaur in the maze, written in the script of a blind man," she murmured, her eyes deep in thought. "Why do you come here‽" she demanded suddenly. "Here to gloat? Here to see the fallen queen? Here to be larger and better than Madb?"
"Here to support. Here to believe. Here to destroy doubt about Madb returning to her throne," I told her, keeping my voice calm.
Her eyes narrowed and she turned away, reading her book. It was such a child like expression I nearly laughed, but caught myself.
After two hours, I closed my book, and stood up. When I reached the door she said, in so natural a tone, it shocked me, "You should take my realm."
"I don’t want it," I told her truthfully.
"Promise me you’ll take it, if I never get better than this."
I continued to face the door. "Why?" I asked. "Why me?"
"Your mother was a true warrior," she said.
I put my forehead against the door. "I’m not. I will not lead charges into battle."
She was silent so long, I thought she would not reply, but then she said. "Good, because your mother was an idiot too. What was she thinking?" Then she added, soft as kitten fur, "I miss her."
I left the room, and descending the stairs I began to cry, but couldn’t understand why.
At the bottom of the stairs, I saw Jason, one of Madb’s men. She had two, Jason and Neale. One used a guest room here, and the other remained back in her realm, keeping an eye on things. They switched off each week, so fresh news could be brought to her realm. We reported her found, and critically ill, using the radio. And that’s all we reported. It was also the only thing we told my people as well. She was critically ill, and could possibly die, but we were doing everything possible to help our ally.
In this part of the world, Madb was more than a queen, she was the embodiment of security, and the guardian of the future for most people in the six closest realms. Now she was injured and we needed to support her, and be there for her. Mark suggested strongly that this be the message. Yes, people would be reminded that she is mortal like the rest of us, but they would also be eager to have her back on her throne.
"Jason?" I said.
He turned and stepped toward me. "Yes, Queen Myriana?"
"I wish to ask a question, and I require a candid answer, with no fear of insult or reprisal," I told him.
"I’ll try my best, my’Lady."
"Good. When Madb was lucid, what was her opinion of me?"
He blanched but then straightened his shoulders. "You’re too young, too emotional with your men and we need three more just like you." He quoted.
"Why the last?" I asked.
"You care," he said, without hesitation. "But you still do your job."
I started to leave, but then turned back to him. "If this is a confidence or secret, just tell me, but out of curiosity, why did she take the name Madb? I recall her real name is Margarette."
He grinned. "She told me that it was better to be feared than loved." Then his smile broadened.
"Why the smile?" I asked.
"Because a couple of years ago, after meeting you at her birthday party, and interviewing Bryce on his way home from visiting his mother, she told me, that she had doubts about that now."