ENCOUNTER with DEATH By a
and spied her from the window, and upon seeing her he was taken with her, declaring her the most beautiful girl in his entire kingdom. So he paid her father the dowry of a hundred princesses, which was still far less than she was worth but all even the Emperor could afford, and she went to live with him in his palace and be his queen. But there were many wars to fight, and as the Emperor was a good ruler and a brave man he would not allow his subjects to risk their lives for a lord that would not fight alongside them, so he was often away at the front. Thus he had to leave Ilyssa alone in the palace save for their servants and the many nobles, most of whom were enamored of her. So Ilyssa spent the years waiting for the Emperor to return, rebuffing the advances of many powerful and vain men. With each refusal she found herself wondering more and more if this was all that men were, if this was what the Emperor was like. She grew to doubt the Emperor, both his love for her and hers for him. Then came a cold day in Autumn, three years after the Emperor picked her out in the city marketplace. A messenger arrived with tidings for the Queen: snow had fallen early at the front, trapping the Emperor’s forces in their positions. The
RIVER G a b r i e l
R o u t h
There was once a young woman. Her father and mother called her Ilyssa. She was as beautiful as the moon; not the craggy, barren orb that hangs in the night sky, but the real moon, the goddess Luna. She had hair so blonde it was almost white, and skin so soft it was almost silk, and eyes so green they made all other green things look dull by comparison. All these things are true. At first Ilyssa was merely the most beautiful girl in her village, but when she grew old enough to accompany her father to the city on market day, it became apparent that she was the most beautiful girl there as well. Then one day the Emperor, in his golden chariot, was passing through the city 26
DOSSIER ∙ SPRING 2009
barbarians had descended upon them and done great slaughter, but the Emperor himself had covered the army’s retreat, buying the safety of many thousands of his men at the cost of his own life. His final words had been to tell Ilyssa that his sole regret was being parted from her for so long, that he had gone to the front himself to protect her first and his kingdom second, and that he wished her only happiness. It was more than Ilyssa could bear. Grief-stricken and horrified that she had ever doubted her lover’s devotion to her, she sent the messenger away and vowed to kill herself. Going to the servants’ quarters, she exchanged her queenly regalia for the simple woolen stola and linen tunic of a serf woman, took a hooded cloak to complete her disguise, and left the palace, head lowered. She walked into the forest, stepping over ground decorated in leaves the colors of Autumn. The trees swayed in the wind, and she felt they were all judging her. For a day and an hour she walked, unceasingly, until she reached the very center of the forest. There ran a river, rushing down from the mountains and going for many hundreds of leagues before reaching the ocean. Its water was so clear she could see the bottom more than a perch below, yet it ran rapidly enough that she knew she would surely be swept away once she jumped in. “You are not the first to come here and stare so into the river.”
Ilyssa started and looked about for the source of the voice, a quiet whisper that might have been mistaken for the rustle of a leaf. In a moment she found it.Beside the river, a young man rested beneath a tree. His hair was dark, his skin even paler than her own; his face was haughty, and his lips were curved into a small smile. He wore a toga picta as might a general or even the Emperor, embroidered with gold leaf, but instead of purple the garment was black. On his head he wore a laurel, but it was wilted and dead. His eyes were brown, but if Ilyssa looked at them she could see the sky behind them, and she knew this was not a man, but something else. “Do not worry,” the man continued in his quiet voice, a whisper that Ilyssa could somehow make out perfectly. He did not move from where he lay beneath the tree. “I bear you no ill will. Even if I did, there is the river; you could surely jump in before I could do you any affront.” “Please do not try to stop me,” Ilyssa said. “I have grievously wronged my love, my Emperor, whose only regret was that he had been parted from me.” “How have you done this?” the man asked.
DOSSIER ∙ SPRING 2009
27