Elizabeth
I can vividly remember the day on which Ladislaus came to visit. I was about twelve or thirteen at the time, still very much a girl. On the days of my father’s banquets, I would take to one of the castle’s highest rooms. I would watch as the noblemen arrived for the party, excited at the prospect of what was to come.
On this particular day, I remember there was a dusting of snow on the ground. The clouds were dark and heavy, threatening to drop more flakes on the already white ground. I watched as they all arrived, little clouds of breath bursting free from the horses’ nostrils as they padded slowly towards the castle. It was a beautiful sight, but one at odds with the violence that I knew was to come.
Just when I thought the entire party had arrived, I spied another group of horses, tethered to a carriage, off in the distance. My heart raced as it came into view. The horses were the darkest black, but they seemed almost light when compared to the carriage. It appeared as though carved from trees struck by lightning and burned black. The closer it got, the more details I could make out. The driver sat up front, hunched over and seemingly paying no attention to the road itself. The carriage was adorned with carvings and ornaments that showed images of men in mortal agony, their faces twisted, bodies torn open. It did not strike me as anything that would belong to a man of nobility.
When the carriage came to a halt in front of our castle, it sat for a moment in the shadow of one of the towers. The sky grew darker as the sun dopped below the horizon, the guttering flames on the torches on the castle walls dancing across the ebony carriage. It was then that he chose to step out.
It was hard to see him then, but I saw enough to be equal parts scared and exhilarated. He was tall and lean and dressed in clothes the likes of which I had never seen. The man was dressed all in black, little pieces of gold jewelry attached to the fabric and glinting in the sparse light. He wore a tall hat that made him seem even longer in body, and when he removed it, I could see that he did not possess a single lock of hair.
I watched as he slowly surveyed the surrounding area before looking up in my direction. He smiled then and bowed, but there was no way he could have known I was there. I pulled away from the window, my heart thumping in my chest, and was more than relieved to see one of our servants standing in my room. She was there to dress me and prepare me for the banquet, and as I slipped on my finest dress, I could do nothing but think of the strange man who was now in my home.
Another great installment. There is something about the imagery of a huffing horse on a cloud day that really sets the tone. Sounds silly, but that imagery took me right there.