Queen of Swans
Chapter 1
Ein Schottisches Gedicht
Fern an schottischer Felsenküste,
Wo das graue Schlösslein hinausragt
Über die brandende See,
Dort am hochgewölbten Fenster,
Steht eine schöne, kranke Frau,
Zartdurchsichtig und marmorblass,
Und sie spielt die Harfe und singt,
Und der Wind durchwühlt ihre langen LockenUnd trägt ihr dunkles Lied
Über das weite, stürmende Meer.
Scotch Poem
Far away on the rock-coast of Scotland,
Where the old grey castle projecteth
Over the wild raging sea,
There at the lofty and archèd window,
Standeth a woman beauteous, but ill,
Softly transparent and marble pale;
And she's playing her harp and she's singing,
And the wind through her long locks forceth its way,
And beareth her gloomy song
Over the wide and tempest-toss'd sea.
Heinrich Heine
In a clearing denoted by many tall and graceful poplars and aged oaks, there were many young girls making merry in the dark of night. Some danced as merrily as butterflies might, among blossoms, and others knelt to gather summer flowers, delphines and pimpernels and buttercups, a thousand abundant flowers, as others lounged languidly, at their ease, listening to the cello and viols that played themselves. Rather, it was the invisible, enchanted servants that played the stringed instruments, the ones enchanted by the sorcerer, called the Unseens.
There was a great bout of laughter and merrymaking in gaily array, except for one who was seated under a great oak, weeping, with a half-dozen or so other hovering around her anxiously. She was the new swan, just enchanted to transformation, and sobbing into the pale skirts of Laurette, as others looked to her worriedly. All heads turned, and merrymaking ceased, as a boat was seen along the marble dock.
There was a heavy silence as the little gilded ebon boat approached the shore of the island of the Greek shrine. Young girls gaily in their joy of youth, though in night, ceased to be young girls, and transformed to silent, pale wraiths, their long silken gowns pooling at their feet in a beautiful curtsy, their diphanous pale skirts of the finest gossamer gauze playing like waves in the wind, and their long, shimmering hair waving amidst the finest pearls, diamonds, and all manner of sparkling jewels.
As the great hawk, dark as sin, landed with effortless ease infront of the arrayed young girls, perhaps two dozen in their number, there was a ripple in the air as the sorcerer came to being again. Those girls who had sank into their curtsies deepened them with a slight movement of grace, and were motionless, as only their hair and gossamer skirts moved in the wind.
"My Lady Swans," The sorcerer said in a strange, deep voice, "I bid you a good evening."
There was no reply, and as he did not seem to expect any, he turned with a supreme air of dignity as the curtsies only deepened, until he motioned them with a carelessly confident gesture. Two dozen girls, pale as the moon in their rich garb of fine fabric, rose in unison and only stood, waiting on the sorcerer mutely. They seemed to be accustomed to him and his mannerisms.
"My Lady Swans," the sorcerer began coolly, "I wish for to you share the morning repast with me, if it pleases you all, and your mistress." All of his niceties were all for nought, as every mind present knew that they had but no choice except to do whatever he pleased.
"And by and by, where is your Lady Queen tonight?" little moved yet, except for waving hair and gorgeous robes, as the First Lady stepped forward.
"Lord Eriol, our Lady Queen Tomoyo is there." A graceful hand rose, and gestured at the greek temple. The sorcerer Eriol turned with an air of displeasure that darkened a dark countenance.
"And why has she declined our company tonight, First Lady Adelaide?" Eriol questioned imperiously. There was a hint of danger in his stance, subtle displeasure and power mingling to an unsettling combination. The Second Lady stepped forward.
"We do not yet know, Lord Eriol, and we ask your forgiveness. She has become more withdrawn, for two weeks now, every time we are transformed by the setting of the sun to our human form. Even when she is a swan by day, does she isolate herself."
"Second Lady Melisande. I pray you tell me why you do not yet know why she has isolated herself. Did I not set it so that it is your duty, You, the First Lady Adelaide, and the Third Lady Phedyma, to wait upon her? Why are you here, yet she is there without your assistance?"
A Lady Swan, Odeline, spoke up suddenly. Gorgeously ringleted hair, mingled with jewels, swayed as she spoke.
"Lord Eriol, our Lady Queen declines our company and service, and says that she only wishes to be left alone." Valdirene, another Lady Swan, nodded. The sorcerer frowned.
"I will go to fetch her myself. Does the Swan Queen dare to deny her crime, and have free will for her sin?" The sorcerer laughed coldly. It was a deep, rich laugh, but very, very cold.
"Lady Theodorette, make all ready to board the boat. Wait here." Without another glance back, he turned and strode towards the greek dwelling.
The sorcerer walked through a vista of poplars, elegant in form and verdant in the summer night, to the pale marble sanctuary in which a young girl sat. Pale, pale skin like the marble, and brilliantly violet eyes that were very virulent in hue, even in the deep velvety darkness, and hair blacker than the evening sky made for her to seem fey and enigmatic. Even in the cool light of the moon, her hair shimmered with the fire of diamonds, casting a pale, brilliant sheen, almost as pale as her silken dress of a hundred layers. Each layer was lighter than air, and edged with gorgeously pale lace, studded with thousands of tiny seed pearls the size of grains of sand.
The Lady Queen sat motionless, looking to the lake, and sky, and ultimately to freedom, yet she was chained to the grounds of the Lord Sorcerer. Almost seeming as a wraith, or ghost, she sat, supernatural beauty seeming as effortless as a sigh. There was no movement in her.
"My Lady Queen." Said the sorcerer. He held a hand out, as if beckoning her to rise from her oaken and silver seat, yet she did not move. Not a movement to even acknowledge the presence of the sorcerer.
Lord Eriol hesitated for a moment, but retracted the proffered hand. He spoke again, voice hard and imperious.
"You would do well to remember that you have been imprisoned for your sin of betrayal, as all women commit such, and I am a forgiving keeper to which you might repent your sin. Rise, and stop your silliness. There is nothing to be gained."
He proffered his hand again, soft black kidskin glove like a black claw in the night, and the Swan Queen stood in a fluid motion and took the hand, and they walked to the boat together. In the night, there was nothing but the sky and moon, elegant poplars and wind, and such bitter, bitter expressions in the young, exquisite faces of those who had been imprisoned for their sin of betrayal.
