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The Visit.

© Wendy J. Dunn

I laid the final item on the table, and stepped back, looking critically over everything - making sure nothing was left undone. In the silence of the room, rushes crackled loudly underfoot. Inhaling the scent of lavender, I closed my eyes, deliberately treading a little more - hoping a heady intake of the perfume would relax my jittery nerves. In my mind's eye, there took shape a misty vision of gentle, rolling hills backed against scorched blue skies. Hills all purpled with the bloom of lavender.

Opening my eyes, I glanced towards the hourglass; they'll be here soon. My gaze took in the table again. I prayed I made the right choices - all the fare decreed by simplicity. The appetite of the one I serve has no liking for dishes overdone with spices or the complexity of preparation. Walking to the table, I snipped a cherry from its bunch. I bit into it, going to the mirror hanging on the wall, close to the huge hearth, where embers now burnt low. My fingers ran the cherry over my lips, the blood-coloured juice soaking into my skin, reddening my mouth. I dropped the pip down into the rushes, moving my foot quickly to help bury it.

Looking again at the mirror, I slowly fingered one of the deep marks smallpox had cratered into my skin. In the first shock, my lord husband said he'd gone abroad leaving in England a fair lady to return to one foul. But I think the eyes reflected back to me from the mirror are the same, though sadder now, and I know my mouth curves easily into the same loving smile. But still I pick up the mask from the stool - placing it carefully over my ruined nose and cheeks, leaving only my mouth and chin exposed.

Just in time. Two knocks rap sharply against wood.

"Come in, " I say, for I possess no desire for a servant to share my loneliness.

First my brother Robin enters. O - tis no wonder that his enemies call him ' The Gipsy.' He is so dark - his eyes- his hair- but still very, very handsome. But our mother did not fail her children in this - passing on some of her comeliness to all her brood. They once said my mother's beauty lived again with me. Now?yea...now all voices speak loudly in their silence.

I hear the rustle of a silken dress, and drop my body in a deep curtesy, bowing my head low. Inhaling the scent of rosewater, I feel the lightweight of a hand resting on my shoulder. I lift my gaze to the Queen. Her dark hazel eyes look down at me in great tenderness.

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