The Wicked Queen

By Lloyd Burton

While the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is a charming traditional tale for children, adult readers are likely to find it too simplistic for their taste. Were the characters really so black-and-white as they are drawn? Is it credible that the king, the new queen and Snow White were the only players in the drama, in an era when royal courts seethed with political intrigue? There must have been many others involved; what were their roles, motives and agendas?
The fact is, the real Story-Behind-the-Story has long remained a secret. Now at last the truth can be revealed, how the new Queen Irma and her crafty kinsman Count Drakenstein plotted from the outset to seize power. After tricking the king into drug dependency and imprisonment, Snow White’s wicked stepmother banishes the little princess to a life of drudgery in the royal kitchens, while planning to have her murdered, and the crime disguised as a hunting accident. When the huntsman has a change of heart and spares her life, a strange woodland creature guides Snow White through the dangers of the forest to the home of the Seven Dwarves in the remote Duchy of Mandragua, where she finds refuge. Learning of this by means of the Magic Mirror, Queen Irma orders her henchman, Black Bart, Usurper of the Duchy, to do her dirty work for her.
But this evil plan does not prosper either. Snow White is saved by the intervention of Prince Hal, the true successor to the Dukedom, whose foresters rout the Usurper’s forces. Meanwhile friends loyal to the deposed king conspire to raise the standard of resistance in his support, under the leadership of the aged Marshal, Lord Dransky and the lovely Lady Elaine, Snow White’s godmother and once Lady-in-Waiting to the former Queen. In the palace itself a plot is hatched to liberate the king. Cast in an unexpectedly heroic role is Snow White’s friend the little kitchen maid Elvira, who embarks on a perilous journey to carry a message to Lord Dransky. She is destined later to play a pivotal role in the drama.
Learning that Black Bart has failed, Queen Irma takes matters into her own hands. As is well known, she penetrates Snow White’s refuge in the guise of an old peddler woman and offers a poisoned apple.
At this point the story diverges radically from the traditional tale. Mysteries and improbabilities are clarified. The Wicked Queen’s supposed demise in a fatal fall, as told in the original, is exposed as a fraud. Her subsequent history is much more interesting, as are the histories of the other main characters that are drawn together at the end into a credible conclusion. Good triumphs over evil, crime gets its just deserts, Love blossoms in all directions and the good guys are rewarded with general felicity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lloyd Burton
• Release date: Sep 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9780620517430

Lloyd Burton

After working for many years in Eastern and Southern Africa, where he has traveled extensively, Lloyd Burton now lives in retirement at Somerset West, South Africa. He is married and has two adult children. His main interest is writing. Lloyd Burton’s first published works were a series of short stories on topical subjects that appeared in the Kenya Weekly News. His first full-length book, 'The Yellow Mountain' was published in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe}. It was adjudged best Rhodesian novel for 1978 and gained a nomination in that category for the prestigious Kingston Literary Award. Then followed a long literary drought. Lloyd says: "Realizing eventually that I was fixated on the African conflict experience, I made a deliberate effort to apply myself to a completely new genre. I chose fantasy. My models of excellence were ‘The Hobbit’ by J.R.R.Tolkien and ‘The Wind in the Willows’ by Kenneth Graham. I also greatly admire the prose of Beatrix Potter. "I began to write a series of short and not-so-short stories. Presented in the style of children's tales, they are really intended for grown-ups, like the books mentioned above. As there is no 'adult' content, children who are advanced readers may also enjoy them. "Although these stories were written initially as an exercise and for my own amusement, over the years I accumulated a lot of work that did not fit into any of the popular pidgeon holes of commercial publishing. But a writer needs a readership, and with the advent of e-publishing I decided to let readers be the judges of quality, regardless of established genres.” ‘The Yellow Mountain’ is at present out of print. ‘Enchanted Kingdoms’ and ‘The Travels of Tuckmouse’ were published by Crink Publications where they are still available in hard copy. The latter is a full novel while the former is a collection of longer and shorter stories. ‘The Travels of Tuckmouse’ has been republished as an e-book by Smashwords, while ‘The Wicked Queen’, which first appeared in ‘Enchanted Kingdoms’ is now presented as a separate book. ‘The Lonely Giant’ is a full length novel, while 'The Ugly Sisters and Other Stories' is a collection of novelettes and shorter stories. Other books will soon follow.

Book preview

The Wicked Queen

Or

The Story of Snow White, Retold

By Lloyd Burton

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Lloyd Burton

ISN 978-0-620-51743-0

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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CHAPTER ONE

The King of Sorrow

Once upon a time many years ago there was a small rural kingdom by the name of Montaigne that nestled in the heart of Europe. Secluded by mountains and forests, the little country reposed in undisturbed mediaeval torpor in an age when others were quickening to the ferment of new ideas. But the bucolic inhabitants were not unhappy in their backwardness and ignorance, for they were free to pursue their ancient ways unfettered by the burdens of bureaucracy, under the benign reign of their genial monarch, King Stephan the Good. Prosperity and contentment prevailed throughout the land.

To be candid it must be admitted that the king’s reputation owed less to policy than to neglect; for in the judgement of history it is generally results that count, rather than good intentions.

Everyone was delighted when the king’s gentle consort Queen Berenice gave birth to the royal couple’s first child, a little maid so delicate and beautiful that all who saw her were smitten with love. Even as a babe in arms her hair was dark as sable, her eyes the colour of violets and her skin as white as snow. At her Christening she was given a whole catalogue of grand names, as was the custom of the time. This was intended to flatter relatives and propitiate powerful personages, but the name by which she became known to high and low alike was ‘Snow White’, because everyone agreed that it was just right.

Sadly Queen Berenice died while her daughter was still in infancy and the task of bringing up the child fell to the Lady Elaine, the dead queen’s erstwhile Lady in Waiting and childhood friend.

In spite of her early misfortune Snow White grew up happily and was adored by everyone in the palace. All would have been well had it not been for the sadness that clouded the king’s life following the death of his wife. The only pleasures he found were in the company of his little daughter and in the quiet contemplation of his rose garden, where he shed many a secret tear. It made Snow White sad to see her father so depressed.

Dear Father, why are you down-hearted? she would ask in a soft voice as she climbed onto his knee to comfort him. But the king always pretended to be cheerful. What – me downhearted? Ha-ha! My dear, you must be joking, was his invariable reply, and then he would smile a brave little smile that deceived no one, least of all the Lady Elaine whose heart ached for him, though she said nary a word.

Eventually the king’s ministers of state grew alarmed at his withdrawal from public life and demanded an audience. Laissez faire was all very well up to a point, they told him, but neglect of the realm was altogether out of court. Revenues were falling, the populace was growing restless and envious neighbours were casting avaricious eyes upon the kingdom. It was all the fault of the king’s solitary state, they said.

Though they respected His Majesty’s devotion to the memory of his late queen the status quo could not be allowed to continue without courting disaster. In short, they advised the king to remarry as soon as possible. For all his good points, the king’s character was as yet untested and he tended to follow the path of least resistance. Accordingly he was unable to deny the force of their argument and fell in with their wishes. His only stipulation was that he be spared the tedium of personally seeking out a wife, which could be an irksome and protracted exercise, given the state of communications of the times. He said he would be content to leave the choice of a suitable bride to them.

The Prime Minister wasted no time in making known the king’s decision to remarry, but candidates were few for royalty could only marry royalty in those days and ladies of suitable rank could not be found within the kingdom. For all her devotion and loyalty, the Lady Elaine was not even considered as a candidate. The royal bride would perforce need to be sought elsewhere, and a review of the neighbouring kingdoms revealed that all potential queens were either too young or too old. The Privy Council was almost in despair when an envoy from the Duchy of Mandragua was announced.

Mandragua? the Prime Minister asked his colleagues. Where on earth is that?

The Chamberlain explained that Mandragua was an obscure principality in the mountainous regions to the north of the kingdom.

Ah yes, Mandragua, the Prime Minister said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. Now wasn’t there something… But the association that stirred at the edge of his memory eluded him. Very well, show the fellow in.

The Usher threw wide the doors of the Council Chamber.

Count Drakenstein! he announced pompously.

The person who entered was a weasely little fellow in a velvet robe with fur trimmings at cuffs and collar, a thin pointy beard and a shifty look in his rather narrow-set eyes. Nevertheless his manners were perfect. He swept off his feathered cap with a flourish and made a low, courtly bow.

Drakenstein, at your service gentlemen, he intoned sibilantly. I bring you greeting from my gracious sovereign, Duchess Irma of Mandragua!

The members of the Privy Council were impressed. But first the question of the Duchess’ sponsorship had to be settled. Naturally in those days it was out of the question for a lady to put her own name forward as a candidate for marriage.

Who proposes this match? the Prime Minister asked.

I, Count Drakenstein have the honour to do so, the Count said smoothly, touching his long fingers to his breast. In my capacity as the lady’s cousin.

They got down to business. There being no other likely candidates one might be excused for thinking that the matter would be concluded quickly, though one would be mistaken. Among commoners matrimony seldom involves anything more complex than an ante nuptial contract but among royalty matters of state are paramount. Weighty matters like treaties, dowries and succession must all be taken into account and this makes things very complicated. The negotiations were protracted but eventually it was all done. Included in the Duchess’ dowry were certain revenues from Mandragua. This made the ministers’ eyes shine, for there is nothing a politician likes better than a well-stocked Treasury. The cherry on top, as it were, were the fabulous Mines of Mandragua, of which everyone in the council suddenly realised they were well aware and could not imagine how they could have forgotten.

When everything had been agreed to the satisfaction of both parties, the Chamberlain suddenly remembered something he should have thought of much sooner.

Ahem! he began diffidently. If I may make so bold as to enquire – just how old is the Duchess?

Count Drakenstein smiled so blandly and disarmingly that his eyes vanished momentarily into the creases in his face. Duchess Irma is twenty nine years of age. Much the same age as His Majesty, I believe?

Indeed, the Chamberlain agreed. And have you brought an – ah – a likeness of the lady?

Smiling even more affably than before the Count produced a little silver casket wrapped in silk from which he took a miniature portrait set in a jewelled frame.

A faithful likeness, recently painted by a famous portraitist, he said as he handed it over.

Solemnly each member of the Council inspected the portrait in turn. None of them quite knew what to make of it. Duchess Irma was undoubtedly beautiful, in a somewhat daunting way. As connoisseurs of feminine beauty in later centuries would have put it, her face had beautiful bones, for they were all prominent. If her chin was a trifle too firm it was compensated by the brilliance of her dark, flashing eyes set below narrow, arching, well-plucked brows. Her complexion was as pale and smooth as only the very best quality cornstarch could make it and her lips were the colour of black cherries. It was clear that in Duchess Irma the insipid charms of callow girlhood had long surrendered to the elegance of maturity.

Well, said the Prime Minister at last. I will convey the portrait to His Majesty.

It was the king’s wedding after all, and he could make the decision.

But the king did not like making decisions. After glancing indifferently at the picture he declared he would abide by the people’s choice: if his subjects wished him to marry Duchess Irma then he would do so, for the good of the realm.

The wedding was soon arranged. Although a modest affair as these things go it was attended by a small but glittering array of foreign royalty and local quality. After the ceremony in the cathedral at which Count Drakenstein gave the bride away, a grand ball was held in the palace for the nobility, with French champagne and foreign delicacies, while the commoners were regaled to beer and sausage in the town hall. It was an occasion for great public rejoicing. Almost everyone said what a brilliant match had been made, while those who disagreed kept their opinions to themselves. Only among the common folk were murmurs of dissent audible.

Make the most of it, one sturdy burgher advised his friends through a mouthful of sausage. By the time Duchess Irma gets through with us there won’t be much beer and sausage left for the likes of me and thee.

"Queen Irma!" another fellow corrected him.

Worse luck! said the first. There will be tax collectors in every corn crib and a gallows at the crossroads, mark my words. Just look at Mandragua!

Curiously enough the one person who was left out of the whole proceedings was little Snow White. When she first heard of the wedding plans she was naturally shocked, but well enough versed in the duties of royalty to know that affairs of state were more important than personal feelings. Secretly she feared she might be called upon to play some part in the ceremony, like being a bridesmaid or flower girl. To her great relief she was not asked. Unknown to her she had the Duchess to thank. When the King made the suggestion the Duchess scotched it at once as entirely inappropriate and that was that. It was never mentioned again. So Snow White attended her father’s wedding simply as a family member. Attended by the Lady Elaine, she took no greater part than any ordinary member of the congregation.

When at last the time came for the