"The kindness you FAILED to show, would have been kind to your legacy. The mercy you NEVER extended, WOULD have preserved your lineage."
Chioma Onwudiwe
The young woman hurriedly hid the sleeping baby, behind the bulrushes and then sped back to the palace. She knew, that she had a very short time. Before the mid-wife, came back for the child, accompanied by the evil men. After the gruesome massacre, the invaders had been unable, to locate the child. So they went to pick-up their informant and accomplice, to finish what they had expected her to do, a long time ago. The young woman had heard the mid-wife, as she conspired with the hired killers. Therefore, acting on instinct, had grabbed the princess from her infant's room. She had then gone back, to look for her mistress the queen. Only to find her, in a pool of her own blood. She tried to drag the dying woman, out also. Before the killers returned, to finish off, what they unknowingly left unfinished. But the queen had insisted, she run to safety, with the infant child.
"NO!" The royal protested, as the young maid struggled, to lift her wounded and nearly limp body. The fatal wound from a sword slash, still gaped open. As blood rushed unbound.
"Take the child and run." She managed, her breath slowly and systematically, ebbing out of her dying soul. "And take the bag also," she whispered weakly and slowly. Pointing to a chair, standing next to where she lay on the floor. "Take the small bag, on the chair. It is for her....," she finished faintly. As her eyes rolled back in death and lids closed. Shut forever, to a world of betrayal, vileness and treachery. The maid began to hear returning and menacing footsteps, from afar. A battalion, advancing quickly as it were, towards the palace. She then carefully placed, the head of the dying monarch, back on the floor. She had been cradling it, in grief and confusion. Then grabbing the bag, that the queen had indicated. She ran back into the woods. Straight to the spot, where she had hidden the infant princess.
"An early onset with life, a lengthy duration of time and a plentiful amount of everything, never actually determined or decided a great life. For the greatest of us, were cut short. Leaving behind, an undying legacy...." Chioma Onwudiwe
The wealthy merchant and warrior, stumbled over dead palace guards. As he frantically and woefully, searched for his wife the queen. He had heard rumors of an invasion, as he and his army had headed to war. He was a valiant statesman and lived by conquest. Their destination had required, a four day journey. And they were already two days, into it. After the fatal news got to him, he sped back to the kingdom. Closely flanked by a few trusted, but dejected comrades. They would surprisingly cover two days of travelling, in a few hours short of a day. Chariots were broken down, horses exhausted and men wearied to the bone. But on they sped anyhow. Yet fate would have it, that with all their desperate efforts. They were still too late.
Now he held his already dead wife, in his hands. While he wept bitterly. Her blood clamped hair, brushing against his jewel studded breastplate. An earned regalia of valiance, armour of opulence and distinguished rank. As he sat there sobbing, life for him had stopped also. He would sit right there, he thought. Holding her until death claimed him, as inconsolable grief. Maybe, those that stole the beautiful light in his life. Might come to take him also. Why not? They had taken everything that mattered, from him. Surely his baby daughter, was dead also. If her mother, had suffered such a terrible feat. "Into the woods, my lord...." The slur though faint, was still audible and clear. The grieving merchant turned instantly, towards the source of the voice. It was one of the queen's guards. He had also been fatally wounded, during the invasion. He too lay on the floor, clinging to his last breath.
"The maid...." He heaved with difficulty, as blood spurted from his mouth. "She took the princess, into the woods...." The great merchant dropped his wife's dead body, without thinking. Moving instantly, to grabbthe slumped and dying guard. "What did you say?" He pleaded, as he slightly shook the guard, whose eyes were closing as he slipped away. "Took who where...?!" He cried in agony. The bereaved father, felt a tinge of guilty. He would rather let the dying man, have his final moments quietly. But he was desperate. "The woods...." The guard finished. His eyes finally flickering shut. In perfect rhythm, with his last breath. The merchant turned the dead mans neck, to read and note the name on the tag hanging around it. Then he tore out of the palace, racing with the wind into the dark woods.
Borrowed with permission, from the incredible 'The MONITORS' by Chioma Onwudiwe/2015