Chapter Six

Despite the rules of the game, Tarrant and Mally had both argued with gusto that morning before she had set off on her journey to the seventh rank that Someone should be allowed to accompany Alice. It seemed to Alice that Mally did so due to the fact that her friend Tarrant felt so strongly about it. Indeed, the Dormouse had dealt a blow to her own Considerable Pride by pointing out that her size might make her Less Significant in the rules of the game, so that an exception might be made, allowing more than one on a square at a time. Alice had to agree with Mirana's pronouncement, however: Mallymkun, you are Most Significant.

'I am so very close to being finished,' she had assured Tarrant, kissing him on the tip of the nose, his cheek, and forehead, and pressing her hand to his heart as a silent promise.

She had come this far and she would complete her crossing alone as she had begun it. By traversing yet another brook, she began the last leg of her journey refreshed and full of muchness itself.

She could be queen.

As she walked further, however, the atmosphere around her seemed to change and her confidence waivered. Walking beneath the trees that very nearly hid the sunlight from her, the colors of Underland appeared more muted than usual. The air itself felt still. There were no birds calling to each other, no cheerful Daisies lining the path. She could hear herself breath and she fancied that anyone within a mile could do the same.

She heard the thunder of hooves, therefore, long before she could see who it was that approached. She was unsure whether she wanted to meet with someone alone in this wood, and the thunder of her heart soon echoed nigh as loud.

"I am a warrior," she murmured to herself, though she had no weapons.

The horse and its rider came into view, the white of the knight's armor glinting as he passed through a sunbeam that managed to reach the ground through the dense cover. Alice stood her ground as he approached her, growing ever larger by means of increasing proximity and not Upelkuchen.

As he reined in before her, she could see rusted spots on that same armor that seemed to indicate that he was either a much abused knight or rather careless about his appearance. His considerable waxed mustache was entirely white, as well, which did not necessarily indicate age in Underland, but she thought she could make out crinkles about his eyes through the slit of his helmet. As she was examining his person, he tumbled from his horse to the ground. Convinced by now that he was an older gentleman, Alice panic turned to concern, as he might have hurt himself in this fall. Indeed, he had fallen on his head, and she could only hope his helmet had protected him somewhat from the blow.

"Oh my! Are you quite all right?" she asked, taking a step towards him with the intent of helping him to his feet, but the man was seemingly quite spry and jumped to his feet without aid, climbing back atop his horse before she could even extend a hand.

"Perfectly," he said rather cheerfully. "But are you all right? Well, you do seem to be in one Piece," he said, answering his own question. "If you should come into some kind of Trouble, I will fight for you."

That was generous if a little presumptuous. "I hope that won't be necessary. I intend for this to be the uneventful conclusion of a Safe Journey." Tarrant would be most uneasy if he thought there was a need for an armored guard.

"What sort of journey?"

She did not yet feel that she should reveal her purpose, so she said vaguely enough, "I am crossing the squares of Underland."

"Excellent. I shall see you safely to the next square if you like."

He did have the appearance of kindness about him, and Alice would not mind the company, as the uneasy feeling of this square might be less oppressive if there was someone with whom she could speak. Nevertheless, she knew next to nothing about this strange knight. "I am afraid I don't know who you are, Sir."

"But I know who you are," he responded from inside his helmet.

"I don't see how you could."

He adjusted his seat in the saddle, sliding the toes of his armor back in the stirrups before addressing her, "Let me guess: Morrígan?"[1]

"No, just Alice."

He shook his head, his plate armor rattling. "If you are not quite Morrígan yet, you soon will be. Once you cross the next brook, no doubt."

Alice chewed her lower lip, considering how she might better introduce herself to clear up the obvious misunderstanding. She finally settled upon 'Champion,' as she had already had some luck on this journey introducing herself as such. "I'm the Alice, Champion of the White Queen."

"Ah, well then. Just as I thought. You're a third of the way to being Morrígan. You've protected your queen and you have only yet to become one yourself—step one and two. Step three will be at Harvest."

He seemed terribly well informed for a complete stranger. She only just prevented herself from looking down at her middle, thinking of the garden they were to put in and their Harvest baby—do I look different?

Tilting his dented helmet to see more properly out of the eye slit, he coughed and spoke once more, "How goes the journey across the squares?"

"Who are you?" It might have been Rude to press the issue, but he had been equally Rude in ignoring it. She was not going to give him any Personal Information until she was satisfied on this point.

"Ah, that's the greatest question of all. Is it not? I can tell you who I once was. I was once one of the White Queen's knights, but now I'm not so sure who I am. It's a puzzle."

"And how did you know I was on my way to becoming Queen?"

"I might be old, but my eyesight isn't that bad, young lady. You're certainly not on your way to becoming King. Besides," he said, stroking the curl of his white mustache, "I can almost make out the crown right above your head. Yes, you will be a great queen indeed."[2]

She looked up. "I don't see anything."

"Well, I'm more accustomed to seeing Royalty than you are, I wager. I have an eye for it, for I've decades of service under my hauberk. I can see it coming a mile away."

"I serve the White Queen, you know," Alice admitted, as she began to walk once more, content that this odd man meant her no harm.

Turning his horse, he followed slowly at her side, the clop of the horse's hooves setting a pleasant rhythm for their forward progress. "Yes, of course you do. Although, you've been nothing but her Pawn. It will be a great deal safer for all of us once you are your Own Woman."

He seemed to be awfully knowledgeable about state secrets for someone she had never even seen at court. "Where have you been all this time? I've never met with you."

He paused, the reins going slack as he began to tug at his helmet.

"Let me help you," she suggested, coming alongside his horse and gesturing for him to lean down. Alice gave a mighty tug, but other than pulling him nearly sideways off the horse, the helmet stayed put. "Wait," she said, releasing him and reaching for her rucksack. Her husband had made one addition to her pack before their parting: butter. This, like all the other contents, was about to come in handy. "I hope you don't mind," Alice said apologetically as she smoothed a little butter around the edges of his helmet. With another mighty tug the helmet finally came loose in Alice's hands and she smiled at him now that she could see his unquestionably kind eyes, looking gratefully down at her. "Here, sir," she said, handing him the helmet, which he tucked beneath his arm.

He smoothed back his shaggy white mane of hair and wiped at his buttered cheeks with a handkerchief pulled from some hidden source, collecting himself. "It isn't exactly accurate that we've never met," he corrected her gently once his person was once more in order and the handkerchief tucked back away.

"I'm sorry. When was that?"

He picked the reins up so that they could begin moving forward once more. "When you were a little girl. A very inquisitive little girl," he added. "You were terribly interested in all of my inventions, and not everyone was always so kind as to take an interest, you know."

She could not remember him in the least unfortunately. "You're an inventor as well as a knight?"

He shook his head sadly, "I haven't had much time for inventing for many years nor should I rightly be called a knight anymore. I've been in the Outlands, hiding like a coward."

"You don't seem a coward to me." He had, after all, very kindly offered to see her safely across this square, to fight for her if need be.

"I left the kingdom when things grew dark and the Rules of Battle were not observed. I took the Rules of Battle very seriously, Alice, and so I fled."

The poor knight seemed in low spirits, and while Alice could not help but think it was a bit cowardly to have fled, she could understand the desire to flee Duty. "We all do our best," she said softly.

"It was the children, you know. I have a great fondness for children, and when the Red Queen had her children murdered, that simply was not part of the Rules of Battle."

Alice slowed, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach. "Iracebeth had children?" she asked quietly, hoping she had misunderstood.

"Ten of them. Dear creatures, always done up in hearts toddling along."[3]

She pressed her hand to her stomach to try to keep the morning's meal down as she breathed slowly through her nose.

"Are you all right, my dear?" the Knight asked, as she walked a few steps away from him. She could hear him tumble to the ground, but he must have recovered just as he had done earlier, as he quickly continued with his questioning: "Have I upset you?"

She could not be troubled to respond, because at that moment she doubled over and lost the contents of her stomach.

"Oh, my," he tut-tutted, coming to stand alongside her and pat her back comfortingly. "You're sick."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I didn't know about the children." Is this what becomes of the children of the Kings and Queens of Underland? Death for all? Lily and the Red children too?

"After the Red King's supposed betrayal, she wanted no reminder of him," the Knight said quietly. "Most unconscionable."

"Something should have been done," Alice hissed through her teeth. "Someone should have done something. Why did no one stop her?" she demanded angrily.

"I'm sure it was my fault entirely," the Knight confessed, rubbing his brow morosely. "I crept away when I heard, quite useless to my White Queen."

Alice drew a shuddering breath. In her shock and disgust, she realized she was being unfair. What had happened was no more the Knight's fault than it had been Tarrant's. It would do no good to make this man feel the burden of it more than he already did.

"I shan't speak on it anymore, my dear," the Knight continued apologetically. "I can see that death disturbs you."

It seemed to lurk in every corner.

He scuffed his feet on the forest floor. "I am so useless. I have only upset you needlessly by unburdening myself."

Her mouth tasted dreadful and her lips were cracked. She licked them before clearing her throat. "You have been useful to me already, sir."

"Have I?"

She glanced up at him as she dug in her pack for her canteen, needing water to clear her palate. "Certainly," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster, for he had been kind to her. She only felt wretched from the news and could not fault the messenger.

"Yes, well then, I suppose that counts for something."

"It does," she assured him between large gulps of water.

What she wanted now more than ever was to be done with this process, to be back home with her husband and in his arms. Her confidence was entirely shaken, and she was no longer sure she would accept the crown. The potential consequences for her family were simply intolerable. Underland be damned. It seemed an almost unsolvable situation, but Tarrant would know what to do; he would use his creative reasoning and find a way. If she could just get to the eighth square, he would be waiting for her and they could come to a workable conclusion together.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you to say so," he said with a teary eyed smile.

Straightening herself up, she attempted to hurry him along. "And if you mount again, we might hurry on to the final brook. That would be most helpful."

He nodded, awkwardly moving towards his abandoned steed. "If you are up to it," he said, pulling himself atop of the horse once more.

"It was only a bit of queasiness." And uncertainty of her path.

"Very well. I shall attempt to continue being helpful."

Alice nodded wordlessly and they continued on in silence for some time until the Knight spoke up, musing aloud, "If I might be of use again to queens and important persons, perhaps I will even begin my inventions again."

There was no reason Alice would not want this Knight to find some happiness, so she saw fit to wish him well. "I hope you do," she said, as they approached what seemed to be the end of the forest. Yes, they were now reaching open fields. Perhaps the journey was nearly over. And without any real trouble. Just more distressing news weighing down her spirits and shaking her resolve.

"There is one invention I still have. One that wasn't left behind out of necessity when I fled," he said with renewed brightness.

"And what is that?" Alice asked, turning her face into the sunshine as they broke free of the trees.

"A song. The tune is of my own invention. It used to bring tears to the eyes of my listeners."

Oh, no. "Is it a sad song?" She had already had quite enough of depressing types of artistic expression, thank you very much.

"Not in the least. It merely moves people. The words, the tune, my voice."

She could tell he was waiting for an invitation to share it, and he seemed in need of encouragement, so that he would not lose his courage again. She could use some of that herself, so she might as well perform the kindness for someone else. "I should like to hear it if you don't mind sharing it with me."

He immediately dropped the reins of the horse, letting them slip around the animal's neck, eager to begin his song. As he began, Alice could tell that this was not a tune of his own invention: it was "I give thee all, I can no more," but it would do no good to interrupt and remind him of such a thing. Besides, she was struck by something much more significant than the familiarity of the song. Suddenly Everything was familiar.

She could bring the whole scene back again, as if it had been only yesterday –the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the Knight—the setting sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on his armor in a blaze of light that quite dazzled her—the horse quietly moving about, with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the grass at her feet—and the black shadows of the forest behind—all this she took in like a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she watched the strange pair, listening, in a half dream, to the melancholy music of the song.[4]

"I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'and how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

He said 'I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,' he said,
'Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread -
A trifle, if you please.'"

He would have gone on with this tune not of his own invention, beating time with his hands with a foolish smile on his face, but as happy as singing his song seemingly made him, even he stopped when the sky turned uncommonly dark for midday.

An ominous koww, followed by an echoing eh-aw, alerted Alice to the return of the monstrous Crow. It swept overhead, tilting over the fields before them.

The old Knight fell off his horse once again, this time backwards, perhaps in fright. He was beginning to scramble to get atop it again, but Alice did not think it wise for him to mount again. "We must take cover!" she shouted, as Thoughts tumbled through her mind at a frightening pace. She had Promised, solemnly Promised Tarrant, and now here she was with a giant Crow whirling back over the fields and flying at them at an unimaginable speed. How would she go home to Think and Plan? The creature was upon them Now, action must be taken Now. But she had vowed, promised, pledged…

The Knight released the horse's reins and grabbed Alice's hand instead, pulling her awkwardly with a clank of armor toward the only cover in sight: a haystack. Perhaps the crow had not yet spotted them, Alice prayed as they dashed across the open space between themselves and cover. They stumbled to stop, falling to their knees before being able to recover in a crouch behind the moldy haystack, made old by winter's ravages.

If I keep very quiet. If I keep oh so still. Alice pressed her hand over her racing heart, willing it to be quiet too.

"I shall fight for you, my dear," the Knight said in hushed tones. "Even if the Rules of Battle are not properly observed."

Even his vow of service was much too loud. Alice pressed her finger to her lips in desperation, shaking her head, 'no.'

The crow made another pass over the barren field, making its loud, throaty caw-aw-ah call that raised the hairs on Alice's arms.

If I keep very quiet.

The royal entourage moved rather slowly, a creeping caterpillar of subjects and servants inching across the fields of Underland towards the eighth square, where an enormous dinner-party was being hosted by Alice that afternoon. Of course, Tarrant cringed when he thought that Alice was unaware she was to play hostess so soon. They had expected coronation festivities, but not upon the very moment of the completion of her journey. She would be tired. She would want to return home. And she would no doubt be annoyed at not having been able to invite who she chose, but Mirana informed him that Alice had been given the opportunity and had failed to take it. Mirana stated that Alice's lessons in proper ladylike manners had evidently failed her. Somehow Tarrant doubted that. Alice was an expert in Rudeness; that is, the diagnosing of it.

He had been walking for some time alongside Mirana's white steed with Mally sitting atop his hat, when the hair's on his arms began to stand at attention. Glancing to his left and right, at the barren fields through which they tromped, he felt certain that something lurked about them. And yet, he could observe nothing of note.

"Mally," he lisped to the Dormouse, whose feet dangled over the edge of his hat.

"Yes, Hatta?"

"Do you not feel something?" he asked quietly.

"A great many things. You'll 'ave to be more specific," she chided him.

He patted his pockets as his heart began to pound most unnervingly in his chest. "Thimbles, the laddie needs thimbles," he muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets. But there are not enough to be had! Only three, three measly thimbles and all here with me. He shuffled the thimbles between his fingers, staring down at them in horror.

I'm in the wrong place. My place is by Alice.

Mally swung down, descending on his shoulder. "What's that, Hatta?"

He swiveled to his left, thimbles falling from his hand in his urgency to address the Queen on her mount, "Do you happen to have a square of soap?"

"Careful, dear Hatta: you have nearly unseated Mally," the Queen frowned, her white hair swinging loose behind her back.

His breath began to come quickly, as if he was running, when he most certainly was not. He panted, "Dae ye hiv saip or a fork?"

Mirana looked over her shoulder at the trunks being lugged dutifully across the squares of Underland by her household. "Somewhere, yes, but everything would have to be unpacked to find them."

Then unpack it all! Grasping at his chest, he stumbled, vaguely hearing a squeak and a scream as he fell to his knees. A hand clasped his shoulder, but he shoved the unknown owner of the hand off. He did not need a hand, he needed to be at his laddie's side.

"Heavens! Hatta!" Mirana cried, and he blinked, trying to look up at his monarch and clear the blackness from his vision, as it closed in around him. "Pull him up, help him to his feet. We're going to be late for Alice's party."

The party? "Ye'r thinkin' on the pairty," he growled, as he collapsed to his hands, fisting handfuls of grass. Were the Queen's priorities that skewed? "We hiv tae help."

"Help who?" a small voice urged, somewhere close to his ear.

Alice. Alice! But he could not be sure anyone heard him. He could not be sure his Voice was being heard at all.

"Please, don't," she said, seizing his arm so as to restrain the armored man from rushing in with rusted sword raised. Twice as the Crow had circled by them she had been tempted to scream, cower, or even welcome the Knight's offer to do Battle on her behalf, but something prevented her from it. If she was to take the crown up, she would not have her reign be born in blood.

"It circles too close to you, and you would be Queen," the kindly Knight worried, still fingering the sword at his side. "I left the White Queen, but I will not abandon the New."

"You're very good," Alice assured him, patting his arm quickly, "but I mean to say I don't want the creature harmed."

"Ah, it all makes sense now. I take it you're a Pacifist?"

Alice grimmaced, glancing over the top of the haystack, "I slew the Jabberwocky, sir." She wished she had the luxury of being a pacifist, but that was not her path.

The man's eyes grew large. "Truly?"

"Truly, but I don't think such measures are necessary here." That was her hope at least. "I suspect, I begin to think that the poor thing is merely starving." Indeed, the creature wheeled over the barren fields repeatedly, crying and calling out in what was beginning to sound like hunger—not rage—to Alice, hearing the difference as a mother differentiates the sound of her child's cries.

"Might be," the Knight agreed with evident uncertainty.

If only she could help the creature. Her heart began to beat not only in fear, but also with tender sympathy for it. It did sound so very hungry, but perhaps not so hungry for Champions and Knights…

Oh! But she did have something—corn.[5] Quickly unlacing her pack, she moved several things about until she found the bag of corn. 'I shan't have an oven in which to bake,' she had reminded her husband, when she had seen the corn amongst the items intended for the rucksack, but he had packed it nonetheless. His Forethought, she was coming to realize, was positively Magical.

"If only I could make it understand. If I could make it come near," she said, testing the weight of the grain in her hand. She wished it was a larger bag. "Have you any idea how to seek its attention?"

The Knight paused, considering. "Ah!" he said, raising his finger, "You may hunt it with forks and hope. You may threaten its life with a railway-share. You may charm it with smiles and soap."

"Oh heavens, I haven't any of those things," she replied peeping once more over the haystack, as the great bird whirled over head for the fifth time. Normally she would at least have a great many Smiles on hand, but her face would not currently cooperate, being presently more motivated by trepidation than pleasure. "Any other notions—safe notions?" she pressed.

"Why yes. You may seek it with thimbles—and seek it with care."[6]

"You sound very much like my husband," Alice hurriedly whispered, crouching back down. "But I haven't got any of his thimbles. He keeps them…"

My husband.

Tarrant.

Her husband's whispered words as he packed her bag for this journey floated back to her as if over the very air of Underland itself:

"Little Boy Blue,
Come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow,
The cow's in the corn;
But where is the boy
Who looks after the sheep?
He's under a haycock,
Fast asleep.
Will you wake him?
No, not I,
For if I do,
He's sure to cry."[7]

The Horn of Heimdall![8]

She dug in her pack for the elaborately engraved golden horn he had most soberly packed for her.[9] The words that had passed between them resounded in her ears, urging her on.

'What's this?'

'The Horn of Heimdall.'

'It looks expensive. Where did you get it?'

'It's been in the family for ages.'

'And what pray is it for?'

'For Boojum emergencies.'[10]

'For what kind of emergencies?'

'Emergencies of the pastoral kind, Alice.'

She had not imagined she would have any of those. But it was here and she was the laddie of prophecy, she was her husband's boy blue. Thanks to her husband, she knew just how to deal with this Crow. Bringing the horn to her lips, she blew with all her might, eliciting a deep booming sound that echoed through the valley. The result was nigh on instantaneous: the Crow circled in ever tighter circles and finally came to rest before the haystack.[11]

"Watch my back, please," Alice said over her shoulder to the Knight as she strode towards the creature, mustering her muchness with horn in one hand, corn in the other. "Are you hungry?" she asked, feigning bravery, for feigning it sometimes led to feeling it.

The creature's great black head bobbed. She felt instinctually that she could understand it and that it could understand her.

"Yes, of course you are. Look at these fields," she clucked. "Who knows when they were last planted and you have no one to look after you, do you?" Not with the Red King, its keeper, long dead and gone.

The creature bobbed its head once more, and Alice stepped close enough to ruffle its feathers should she choose to do so.

"Here," she said, holding out her hand to offer the Crow the corn. "It isn't much, but it will help."

Pressing her cracked lips together tightly as the creature bent its neck to peck at her hand, Alice could scarcely draw breath for fear. Its eyes were like giant black pools, so she did her best not to look into them.

"Is it all right?" the Knight called, his heavy footsteps making his movement from behind the haystack evident even though she could not see him.

"Yes, sir. It's hungry, as I thought. Do you happen to know when these fields were last planted?"

He shuffled closer and Alice murmured soothingly to the Crow, so that it might not fear the armored man's approach.

"Undoubtedly it has been years. I wasn't the only man in Underland too afraid to do his Duty," he confessed.

Alice could now see him out of the corner of her eye. "I won't stand for that. If this creature is hungry, no doubt people are hungry as well. There are improvements that need to be seen to and a great deal to be righted that has gone wrong." It was altogether too much for one queen to handle, threatening Madness or no. Alice suddenly felt very guilty for ever having called the petitioners from Queast Grumblers. There were weighty concerns to be dealt with and the Queen needed her assistance to get the job done.

"That is why you will be such a great Queen, my dear," the Knight, whose face was nearly as white as his hair, said with a nervous smile. "I have no doubt."

She wanted to Choose her family, but there were so many in need. This Crow might have died or driven by hunger it might have committed some grave evil. The deaths would only mount if she did not take up the crown. And yet, her mind turned to the baby girl inside of her and she feared for her, feared for her safety, feared for her future.


[1] The Morrígan is a Celtic goddess most often associated with warfare. However, war may not have been the primary aspect of the goddess. Her association with cattle suggests fertility and sovereignty. She could also be interpreted as providing political or military aid or protection to the king—again, acting as a goddess of sovereignty.

[2] Morrígan means 'great queen'.

[3] In Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Alice sees the ten royal children, who appear at the croquet game hand in hand and ornamented with hearts.

[4] This (and the song that follows) is taken from Through the Looking-Glass. Alice states that of her entire journey, this is the moment she remembers clearly even years later.

[5] So, here is a bit of an American English, British English conundrum. In England, 'corn' is wheat. In Scotland, 'corn' refers to oats. So, before Columbus ever stumbled across maize, people were calling various forms of grain 'corn'. For instance, Latin texts that have been translated by enterprising Brits will refer to the 'corn dole' in the Roman Empire by which they mean the bread dole. Moreover, they basically do not grow maize in England, and since "Little Boy Blue" is an English nursery rhyme, I am assuming the rhyme refers to wheat, when it says 'corn'. This is all to say that while crows do notoriously love corn, Alice is not digging maize out of her pack, but most likely a handful of wheat. (Or oats if Hatter is being Outlandish.)

[6] The White Knight's suggestions are taken from Carroll's nonsense poem, "The Hunting of the Snark (An Agony in 8 Fits)" (published 1876).

[7] "Little Boy Blue" was first recorded in Tommy Thumb's Little Song Book (c. 1744), but there is reason to believe that the rhyme is much older. Indeed, it may be alluded to in Shakespeare's King Lear (III, vi).

[8] The Gjallarhorn or 'yelling horn' of Norse mythology is a horn associated with the god Heimdallr and the wise being Mímir. The figure of Mímir is renowned for his knowledge and wisdom, and he was beheaded during the Æsir-Vanir War. Heimdallr is attested as possessing foreknowledge and is described as "the whitest of the gods".

[9] Legendary magical horns used for more than drinking and music are not so unusual. One of the most famous is Olifant, Roland's horn in The Song of Roland.

[10] The Boojum is a particularly dangerous kind of snark.

[11] The Mórrígan sometimes appears as a crow flying above the warriors.