Queen of Hearts

The Queen of Hearts

Florence's P.O.V

The rhyme my young daughter sang so often played over and over again in my head.

The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts

All on a summer's day

The knave of Hearts

He stole those tarts

And took them clean away.

The song now had some other meaning to me other than a childish storyline. The Queen of Hearts made beautiful tarts which were stolen away from her, leaving her nothing. Rob, Joan, my family and friends are my tarts and I am the Queen whose tarts have been stolen away from me. Forever.

I did not bother composing myself. I could not kid myself that I was an elegant lady warrior ready for my fate. As I was led down the stone steps of the Tower I was shuddering and sobbing violently. Many a time the guards had to hoist me up roughly as I slipped down a step. I begged them to take me back. I begged for mercy. They laughed gruffly under their steel armour and told me to shut up. I screamed up at the ceiling, hoping my voice would break through the ancient bricks and soar to the sky, making God aware of my desperation.

Or maybe God was the one who set this all  up.

I was led through the darkened streets of Salem, illuminated by burning torches. Jeers from the crowd followed me to my destination. I felt the blood vanish from my face when I saw the pyre. This was it. There was no way out. It was all over.

It was not over just yet. The crowd were screaming obscene things at me. I bit my lip and looked above them, my eyes gazing at the horizon. 

"BURN THE WITCH!"
"SOUL OF FILTH!"
"Don't be stupid, she has no soul!"
"HERETIC!"
"BURN IN HELL, SLAVE OF SATAN!"

Fresh cries escaped my throat. The pyre was now standing like a magnificent shadowed statue, looming above the gaggle of jostling townspeople. I was taken to it and forced to go up the wooden steps. My back was shoved against the wooden stake and my hands bound tightly behind it. A rope was tied around my waist and more around my legs. 

"I'm not a witch," I said desperately. "I promise..."

They ignored me. Or they didn't hear me over the noise from the crowd. 

I was left tied to the stake as someone else was tied behind me. I felt for the person's hands and grabbed them tight. I did not need to see my husband's face or hear his voice to know he was there.

"It's okay, Florence," he said gently. "I'm here. We'll go together."
"Where's Joan?" I whimpered.
"They gave her to Anita. As long as she never sets foot in Salem again, she'll be safe forever."

I was still crying. I squeezed Rob's hands even tighter.
"I remember the day you proposed," I said. "It was so magical. I had never been so happy, except for when we had Joan. It was destiny that brought you and I together."
"You are perfect," he replied. "We are pure souls. We are not evil. We shall go hand in hand through life and death, and we shall stay together forever. Don't be scared, Florence. I'm here. I'll never leave you. Don't be scared. I love you."

The stake was being lit by torches held by angry townspeople. I raised my eyes to the heavens.

"And it's my whole heart," I sang.

"Weighed and measured in size

And it's an old scar

Trying to bleach it out

And it's my whole heart...

Deemed a deliberate crime

I'm on trial...

Waiting till the beat comes out

I'm on trial...

Waiting till the beat comes out

Whose a heretic now? 

Am I making sense

Now

That I'm on trial

Waiting till the beat comes out!"

I knew I would not make it to the end of the song in which the ghost of my great-great-grandmother taught me so many years ago, so I gathered the last of the earthly fresh air and sang the last chorus.

"Chained and shackled, oh

All unravelled, oh

It's a pity, oh.

Never to return

But I never learn

It's a pity, oh..."