Chapter 7: Reckoning
[P]erhaps nothing 'ud be a lesson to us if it didn't come too late. It's well we should feel as life's a reckoning we can't make twice over; there's no real making amends in this world, any more nor you can mend a wrong subtraction by doing your addition right. ~George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), Adam Bede
The next morning arrived far earlier than anyone was ready for, and official preparations and functions again took over the lives of everyone living at the White Castle, not to mention a good number of those tangentially involved.
During the previous day of nearly interminable meetings, one of the longest had been the one to decide whether the court should wear traditional black mourning or official court white. Eventually the courtiers had decided that black was feasible, as most of them at least had mourning attire in their wardrobes from the funerals of the King and Queen of Spades. Seamstresses and seamsters were hastily recruited to take the old garments out or in as needed and to provide any missing pieces of clothing.
As Ilosovic Stayne had a wardrobe of primarily black already, he was the one person at the castle who had no need of new or refurbished clothes. The courtiers, on the other hand, were rushed into fittings as soon as they had contemplated breakfast, most not being in a frame of mind to actually eat any of it.
And so before noon a slow procession of women and men clad in black that contrasted sharply with their white court wigs processed to the Marmoreal cemetery, carefully flanking their snowy-haired queen so as not to step upon her long dark train.
Not many others were present to watch the white and red coffin being interred in the old graveyard. ("Iracebeth would have a conniption over the colors," Ilosovic whispered to Casiphia, thus confirming the choice of the court not to wear white.) Mirana stood at the side of the grave surrounded by courtiers, one of whom stood at the outside of the group at the side of the former Knave of Hearts. A disgruntled-looking Nivens McTwisp was there, seemingly out of obligation, as he had worked for Iracebeth for many years, and the Tweedles were also present, surprisingly, only occasionally poking or shoving at each other, recalling how Iracebeth had never been particularly horrible to them, for some reason, at least not that they had noticed.
"Would anyone like to speak? Ilosovic?" said Mirana. There was naught but silence in answer.
"Very well then, we shall continue with the burial."
Four of Mirana's guards lowered the coffin into the ground, and the queen threw in a handful of earth. Then the guards set to covering the coffin with clods of dirt. Once they were finished, the cemetery keeper would lay into place a simple marble plaque with Iracebeth's name and dates of birth and death, a plaque which would be covered with flowering vines by mid-spring.
But spring was a long way away, and until then, a rotating guard detail would keep watch in the cemetery to ensure that no one defaced the grave, or worse.
Mirana walked slowly from the cemetery, downcast, wondering how matters had come to such a turn.
"I can never forget the horrible things my sister did, and the ruin she made of this beautiful land," she said. "And yet I cannot but be aware that she was the last family I had, and now I am alone in the world." Stopping suddenly, she burst into tears.
Her courtiers began to protest, but it was Rosalba who spoke out and said, "Your majesty, we have all grown up together and we have been close for so many years. We are your family, and so are the many friends you have. And we are family you can trust and rely on and who will always be here for you."
Mirana turned a tearful face to Rosalba, who took the queen in her arms and held her while she cried, as the other courtiers gathered about in concern and murmured reassuring words, for lack of any more practical action.
One of her men-in-waiting wiped tears and smeared eye makeup from Mirana's face with a snowy linen handkerchief and took her hand until the worst of her anguish had passed. It was clear that Mirana needed the love and support of her courtiers, and they spent the rest of the day tending to her needs and doing their best to distract her from her sorrows.
That night dinner was served in the great hall as usual, but still no one had much of an appetite, even those such as Tarrant Hightopp who might have been expected to tuck into their meal with gusto. Casiphia and Ilosovic took their usual seats, but Stayne was more uncomfortable than usual, looking about him from time to time to see if anyone were casting him wary looks. But other than a few curious glances sent his way, he noticed no one paying him unusual attention. Rather, the diners spent most of their time staring at their plates and soup bowls and trying unsuccessfully to work up motivation to eat.
Afterwards Mirana adjourned to her favorite audience room and the courtiers gathered around her once again. Seeing that Casiphia was drooping more by the minute, Ilosovic dared to whisper to Mirana, "Your Majesty, would you object to excusing her for the evening?"
"Oh, by all means," Mirana said. "I should have thought—I know Casiphia is not fully herself yet and it has been a long and I'm sure strange day for her. Yes, do take care of her, Ilosovic, and thank you for bringing that to my attention."
With a shake of his head over how differently the two sisters of Underland had come to treat their employees, Ilosovic returned to Casiphia's side and silently offered her his arm. She gave him a tiny smile and accepted it, and the two left for their quarters. Stayne cared not who might think they were callous or perhaps being granted extra privileges, but Casiphia knew that all circumstances at that moment could be considered extenuating, and her recent life difficulties were hardly a secret.
Ilosovic took Casiphia out onto the terrace that ran along their living quarters, there to seat her on a bench in the moonlight with a cloak around her shoulders. He then slumped beside her with a sigh and put an arm around her, stroking her hair. Sometimes they talked, mostly about Iracebeth and Mirana, but it was the touch and company that provided both the most comfort.
The next morning a weasel in full livery knocked at the door to escort Stayne and Casiphia to Mirana's personal sitting room, where she sat at a table piled high with dog-eared papers.
"And here we are, attending to business now," Mirana sighed. "Although admittedly my sister could have left me with a far greater mess than she did.
"Any guesses as to her last words?"
"Let me think," Casiphia said. " 'Off with her head'?"
"Indeed," Mirana said. "If it's any consolation, I'm fairly sure she was referring to me. I'm glad I didn't grant her a final wish."
"Ah, Iracebeth, always predictable," Ilosovic grumbled.
"Funny, too, as she said that was a quality of the White Court," Casiphia mused.
Casiphia peered at the papers in front of her. "Iracebeth's will?"
"Have a seat, please, both of you, and we will go through this together," Mirana said. After they did so, she continued, "My sister left me her papers and books, and whatever jewels and works of art are left after the ransacking of her castle. This will take some time to put right, but at least she is giving me the opportunity.
"Casiphia, she left you the gardens at Saluzen Grum." Casiphia looked surprised and pleased. "The distance between here and there is a complication, of course, but I'm sure we can find a staff of willing gardeners, particularly if you plan to change her design entirely."
"Ilosovic, Iracebeth willed you the Red Castle."
Stayne's face cycled through several emotions: shock, disbelief, wonder, finally settling on outrage.
"Whyever would she do something so absurd? Does she think I have fond memories of that place, that I would want constant reminders of her wretchedness?"
"Who else would she leave it to? I gather she thought you had some appreciation for its beauty, although she probably expected you to have a sentimental attachment to it that I see you do not." Mirana gave a humorless little laugh.
Casiphia cut in. "First, it shows that she did have some recognition of what you did for her throughout the years, Ilosovic, even if she came to that realization late on. Secondly, what else can be done with it? It's such a beautiful building and it would be a shame to tear it down when there might be something else that could be done with it."
"Here's a thought," Mirana said. "It may seem far-fetched, but the castle could be remodeled into a place that all of Underland could use. I'm thinking of a library, a hotel and tavern, a ballroom for Underland-wide events. If it makes you feel any more enthusiastic, think how much Iracebeth would have hated the idea.
"And Ilosovic, at least until we figure out what else to do with you, you might act as administrator."
Stayne choked. "Administrator? Of all the positions my experience may have prepared me for, I would think that would suit me least."
"But consider," Casiphia interjected. "No one else knows that castle and its contents the way you do. You can hire people to do the routine tasks, that is certainly not out of the question. And as the queen points out, this gives you something to do until we can find a position that is more appropriate for your talents and skills. As much as I enjoy having you around, I can't think that you will be entertained by that forever.
"You can decide what might be appropriate functions for the various wings and rooms, and I can spend time in the gardens sketching my own plans."
"Remember that winter is coming," Mirana said, "and make your plans accordingly."
"We had best get started right away," Casiphia said. She slid Stayne a glance. "Incidentally, there is one particular storage room you might want for an office." Ilosovic chuckled while Mirana pretended not to have heard that remark.
"Love, I think this is the first time I've seen you smile without looking troubled in weeks," he said, regarding his lady fondly. "I suppose if for no other reason than that, I should accept this offer."
Casiphia took his hand. "Your acceptance may be nothing but chivalry, but I thank you for it. And I am so looking forward to seeing what we can make of that place where so much pain and cruelty once were."
"The place where we met," Ilosovic reminded her.
"The place where we met," Casiphia smiled.
~fin~
