The Subjects of Empress Berenice

[Nemonymous]

It's a load off my shoulders not be involved in this contest at all.

[Odalisque]

Quote Originally Posted by Nemonymous

It's a load off my shoulders not be involved in this contest at all.

I wonder what someone would have to do to grab your bronze zealot skull.

But you have posted one picture so, if everyone else deleted all their pictures, you'd have the gold album skull.

[Odalisque]

I thought it was time to raise the cause my own social group once more.

Berenice is, I think, my ideal ruler. Here, she is accepting the surrender of her enemies:

Clasping one another, Nicola and I bounced to see beyond the guard. Four horsewomen and a little girl rode at the head of the procession. Her Majesty, in the centre, wore the austere gold circlet of the crown imperial. As at Chattem, she affected thigh boots and a snugly fitting garment that covered neither her arms nor legs. Her mount was black. To her right, a small child perched atop a disproportionately large horse, also black – but with white flashes on its nose and just above the hooves. She was Crown Princess Berenice. Flanking the Empress and her heir were Lady Jenna Javelin on a chestnut steed and Lady Blanchet on a grey. Both ladies wore an approximation to military uniform. Jenna, riding easily, might have passed for a general of cavalry, the Governess of Lundin seemed less easy both with her costume and in handling the horse.

“Lady Blanchet seems more at home riding a girl than a horse,” Nicola said, barely audible with her mouth less than an inch from my ear.

Behind the immediate imperial party rode Her Majesty’s personal cavalry detachment, naked but for boots, gauntlets, sword belts, and helmets plumed with royal blue and golden yellow. Further back, I was able to glimpse the open carriage carrying the heavily pregnant Gina Gestate, now near her term – and Anna, Lady Jenna’s consort, also with child. Beyond, whole regiments marched or trotted.

“That’s Gina Gestate,” I said, pointing with one arm whilst clasping Nicola with the other, my words probably impossible to hear.

Turning my head to the left, I could see the stand, decorated with dozens of depictions of the Imperial double-headed eagle, from which two Usurper’s generals were to present the Empress with the formal surrender of the city. One of the men, in very tight breeches and an extravagance of gold braid was, I assumed, the Honourable Eric Marsh, whose spiced elderberry wine had inebriated me the previous week. Four days earlier, he had surrendered the Blue Tower, ending the last resistance to our army. The other commander was surely the infamous Lord Higate. Smiling, his features presented no obvious treachery. But then, I suppose, it is of the nature of treason to hide itself. Nobody present might have been the Usurper himself. The absence of the wicked man came more as a relief than a disappointment. Three priestesses, in gold, red and blue robes, had taken their station at the feet of a lovely goddess image – fully twenty feet high – her face radiant with love, forgiveness and peace.

“Avatar of goddess,” Nicola yelled into my ear – or, at least, I thought those were her words. Maybe she was referring to the conversation on the coach to Lundin.

With measured ease, Her Majesty swung herself from the saddle. Reaching up, she lifted her daughter from her mount, bearing her weight as though she were no more than thistledown. The Empress kissed the princess on her forehead, and then the imperial pair stepped on to the surrender stand. Lady Jenna and Lady Blanchet, at the head of a now stationary procession, remained on their horses.

The two enemy generals knelt on one knee to present their swords, hilts first, to Her Majesty. Our Empress took first Lord Higate’s blade, then Eric Marsh’s. With a sword in each hand, Her Majesty clashed the blades above her head. The crowd roared even louder than before. Then, lowering the two swords, Empress Berenice spoke. By what means I cannot imagine – she didn’t seem to be shouting – her words could be heard above the tumult of the crowd.

“Thank you, loyal subjects,” she said. “Now is the time for quiet.”

Instantly, every throat was stilled. Amid the sudden unnatural-seeming silence, the occasional clink of horseshoe on cobble sounded unexpectedly distinct. Her Majesty smiled – then, turning and stooping, handed the swords to Crown Princess Berenice. The little girl, obviously finding the blades heavy, almost immediately passed them on to a waiting attendant. With a frown, it occurred to me that sharp swords should not have been placed in the hands of so young a child.

[Odalisque]

Terror is not enough. Here the Empress outlines her enlightened principles:

“But, Your Majesty,” Lady Blanchet protested, “what do you care for the people?”

“I care a great deal. You must learn that we rule through the love of my subjects – terror is not enough. This applies to you, too, Jenna. Be active, be seen, be seen to be active. The common folk round the Old Gate should be saying Lady Blanchet, goddess bless her and may the goddess save Lady Jenna. They will form the sign of the great goddess when they think of the bad old days under the Usurper’s tyranny. That is how it will be. We will be wise and just. Is that clearly understood?”

[Odalisque]

It's recently occurred to me that, when the queen dies, they should have a show like "X-Factor" to choose her successor.