The Executioner's Heart

CHAPTER 32

“Come forward, child. Come into the light where we can see you.”

Alberta did as she was commanded, shuffling forward into the soft orb of light cast by the Queen’s lantern. The monarch turned to her and smiled, flashing the stumps of her blackened teeth. “Ah, there you are, Alberta,” she said. She held her lantern up so that it swung back and forth on its creaking handle, scattering ghosts. “Today we must continue with your education.”

Alberta gave a solitary nod. Her lips did not betray the turmoil roiling in her belly. It was not that she was scared of her adoptive mother-although, perhaps, on reflection, there was a small modicum of fear. It was more that she wished not to disappoint. The punishments for such disappointment were grave indeed. This she had discovered during the many months of rigorous preparation she had so far endured, the training lavished upon her by the Queen to equip her for her future role as monarch.

Alberta looked up at the Queen, whose demeanour remained unchanged: ever vigilant, ever waking. She looked sickly in her massive, engine-like chair: pale, with dark rings beneath her eyes. A thick bundle of cables and tubing now sprouted from the back of the device, fanning out across the tiled floor behind her and trailing off into the shadows. These were new. Another improvement devised by the odious Dr. Warrender, no doubt; another of his desperate attempts to keep the monarch-and thus, her patronage-alive.

Alberta was disgusted by these machines, the industry with which they whirred and groaned and wheezed as they fought to keep the decrepit woman alive. And yet, she could not deny the stirring of pity that she felt for her adoptive mother, nor the respect and affinity she had for the effectiveness of her rule. If there was one thing she had learned during her indoctrination, it was that the Queen, despite her circumstances and eccentricities, was an effective and dedicated ruler.

“Today, child,” said the Queen, startling Alberta from her thoughts, “we shall talk of loyalty.”

“Loyalty, Your Majesty?” echoed Alberta.

“Loyalty to family,” said the Queen. “Loyalty to the Empire. Loyalty to what is good and proper.”

Alberta nodded. “I believe I understand, Your Majesty,” she said.

The Queen ignored her reply. “You shall learn of loyalty, Alberta, by looking upon the face of a traitor. One who would put his own interests above those of his country and his monarch. One whose greed became absolute and utterly consumed him.”

“Of whom do you speak, Your Majesty?”

“See for yourself,” replied Victoria, placing the lantern in the crease of her lap and grasping the wooden wheels on either side of her chair. She rolled herself forward, slowly and painfully.

Alberta gasped as she realised there was another person with them in the audience chamber. As the diffuse light of the lantern moved closer, she saw a man sitting in the shadows, bound to a chair, arms pinned behind his back. His legs were tied to the chair, and he was wearing a cloth gag so that he could not speak. It looked decidedly uncomfortable. He was a portly man, balding, with a large grey beard and hooded eyes that scowled at the monarch with ill-concealed rage. His grey suit was rumpled and creased, and stained with spots of what appeared to be spilled blood. She could not tell if it was his own.

Alberta recognised him at once. “Is this not…” She hesitated, unsure for a moment whether to continue. She decided it was better to go on rather than remain silent, under the circumstances. “Is this not your son, Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales, Your Majesty?” she asked, her tone level.

The Queen emitted a wet, rasping cackle. “It is a traitor,” she replied, “and all traitors are as one in the eyes of the Empress. Remember that, Alberta. Blood shall count as nothing in circumstances such as these. Those who would betray us must pay dearly for their sins.”

Alberta said nothing, but stared silently, curiously, at the pale face of the Prince.

Albert Edward raged in his chair at the Queen’s words, struggling to break free and cursing ineffectually from behind his gag. His bonds, however, were expertly tied, and he did not have the strength to break them.

“This man,” continued the Queen, “would take what is ours, Alberta. He works to undermine our power, to expose us so that he might claim our throne for his own. This insurrection will not be tolerated.”

Alberta nodded. What would the Queen do, to this, her own son? Surely he would not hang like a common criminal?

“However, we are not, Alberta, wholly without mercy,” said the Queen, as if reading her thoughts. “He shall not hang.”

Alberta felt no relief at these words, simply a cool, collected interest. The effect on the Prince, however, was immediately visible. He slumped back in his chair and ceased his struggling. His demeanour softened. Alberta could see the relief in his eyes.

“No,” went on the Queen. “For him, we have a different solution in mind.” She glanced over her shoulder, into the looming shadows. “Warrender?” she called.

Alberta heard footsteps from behind her. The doctor apparently had also been lurking in the shadows. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice giving little away. Alberta shuddered.

“Have the traitor removed to a comfortable room at Bethlehem Hospital,” she said. “I wish to hear of him no more. We shall suffer no mention of the man, and hear no reports of his progress.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” said Warrender, as the Prince began again to buck wildly in his chair.

The Queen, as if unprepared to witness this distasteful display, wheeled herself backwards, allowing the darkness to swallow the Prince once more. “You see now what becomes of traitors, Alberta. You must remember this moment. The time will come when you, too, will be forced to make such judgements.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” she said again. Today, it seemed, she would avoid punishment. The appetite of her adoptive mother for such things had clearly been sated.

“Very good,” said the Queen. “Now, run along. Return to your rooms. Your tutors will be wondering what has become of you. There is still much to be done.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Alberta.

She turned and hurried from the audience chamber, pretending to ignore the sounds of struggling men as they fought to contain the Prince’s desperate thrashing, and the sickening, vindictive cackle of his mother.