A Queen’s Marriage - Part 1
The Praying
She pouted into her handheld mirror, studying the glow of her cheeks, the brightness of her green eyes, and the luster of her golden hair.
“I’m so pretty,” she sighed, “and no one to see.”
To say ‘no one’, she realized, made it sound like she cared about the world. She looked out her window at the courtiers filing past below, two-and-two: the wives flirting with the bachelors, the husbands ignoring their women in favor of business, and all their children neglected at home, and she shuddered. No, it was not to them she wished to show her splendor.
It was not vanity that turned the mirror every which way, as she studied herself in the light, although she thought well of every curve and every line she saw… but then, there was much to think well of…
“her fair hands patient at their fair task”
No, it was not vanity that prompted the sigh, but sadness. A waiting that overhung her bower, and turned her golden hair into nothing but pale straw. “All those women, with husbands and homes, they have forgotten something wonderful. Maybe they never believed it to begin with, or else how could they abandon their men to the false affairs of the world? Surely, they yearn most to be at home, to be quiet with the love of a man, to care for him and offer themselves only to him. But here they preen before the eyes of false men, who not only have not vowed eternal devotion, but who could never vow such love. These men are weak and selfish and trapped in their ways, and the adoration of women comes far too cheap to require sacrifice. Where is the man worthy of my treasures? Where is the man who will reap my fair harvest? I feel autumn approaching, and my gifts will be overripe - where can I find such a man?”
They preen before the eyes of false men, who not only have not vowed eternal devotion, but who could never vow such love.
She tied her hair into a ribbon, then braided it slowly, and clasped it about her head with pearls, her fair hands patient at their fair task. As she worked, she turned her eyes from the window and from the mirror, and gazed quietly upon the image above her dresser, of the Madonna and Child.
At last, her toilet complete, she took up her shawl, and made her way to the tiny chapel down the hall.
The red candle glowed in the stone chamber with a friendly warmth, and she lit no other sconces. The tabernacle glinted gold beneath its gauze veil, and she knelt upon the velvet cushion, her skirt caressing her calves with a sigh.
“I am for you, My Lord,” she whispered. “Right now, I am only for you. The eyes of the world do not see my beauty. They cannot know it, for it is not theirs.”
Part 2 - The Meeting
Cover Art - 'Forget me Not' (oil on canvas) by Arthur Hughes (1832-1915)
Interior Art - Unknown