Miss K. dreamed of being presented before the Queen.
To start, it was a true dream, born of the subconscious, an
uncontrolled creature that came unbidden in the night. That first dream rose,
most beautiful, a phoenix from the ashes of the mundane day. Miss K. watched
herself, in white like a supplicant, adorned with pearls and roses, floating
her leather-clad feet up the marble stairs, higher and higher toward the
throne.
The royal guard flanked the stair, hands on the hilts of
their swords, unmoving. They might have been statues; only the plumes of their
feathered headdresses stirred as she passed. Miss K. ascended to the dais where
the Queen waited. The Queen smiled at Miss K., then opened her arms to signify
her acceptance of this worthy subject. Miss K. marked the ivory columns, the
golden bunting, the cages of songbirds and the ranks of lords and ladies
attending. A choir, hidden away in a recessed balcony, burst into harmony.
For some minutes, Miss K. felt herself an angel among the
heavens and then, to avoid the appearance of immodesty, took her place among
the Queen’s court.
When she woke, the dream lingered. Miss K. felt sincere
desire where no yearnings had before conglomerated. From that day on, she
prepared for the eventual, inevitable moment.
She went about the task in gradual, but definite steps,
gathering knowledge as a child gathers wildflowers to start. She plucked at the
closest first, and then the most beautiful, and then, in earnest, collecting up
and organizing the details in stunning bouquets of meaning. She learned the
history of the royal family, and the biography of the queen’s life. She
practiced walking with stately dignity, and climbing stairs. She studied the
manners of the court and its rituals. Wherever understanding was offered, Miss
K. sought it out and took possession. When the Queen called, Miss K. would be
prepared.
For not one moment did she doubt the prescience of her
dream. The Queen was known to call her most faithful subjects to court, and
there was none so faithful as Miss K.
Meanwhile, she increased her devotion. She attended all the
Queen’s public presentations, pored over old speeches, kept company with those
who shared her interest.
Her new friends aspired to be presented to the Queen as
well, and had taken many of the same steps, and others that it had not occurred
to her to take. When not reciting genealogies or memorizing important dates in
her nation’s history, Miss K. began studying elocution and posture, as well as
designing the gown, jewelry, and flowers she would require.
As her devotion deepened, she watched others attaining that
which she desired for herself. Every day, the Queen received many subjects, and
Miss K. rejoiced in their fortune even as her heart yearned and coveted. As her
circle of friends grew, often those of her own acquaintance were called, presented,
and accepted. Some stayed in the lofty tiers of the court, favored by the
Queen, while others descended, pleased with their singular achievement,
describing the wonders of the experience.
While Miss K. was not the only citizen to desire a call that
did not come, she felt keenly the growing disappointment. It seemed as if
everyone she knew had been to court. She had prepared herself in every way. She
was ready. She continued to follow the important current events of her country,
tested herself to be certain that she forgot nothing of her relevant learning,
and let it be known that she, Miss K., desired to be presented before the
Queen.
She pressed her lips together when those who did not desire
the honor so intently as she did were presented and accepted. She bit her
tongue when men and women who had not prepared themselves at all also were
granted their turns. She waited for her day.
She waited many years for her day, but it did come. She
could no longer offer the Queen the sparkling beauty of her youth, but the
Queen, they said, cared little for outer appearances. She judged what lay
within, and Miss K. held nothing within herself but devotion for her sovereign.
On the appointed day, she adorned herself in the fine white
dress, the pearls, and the roses. The palace’s high gold doors opened at her
approach, and she made her way through the garden, her head spinning in wonder at
the marble steps and the stolid honor guard. High above her, seated upon a
crystal throne, her benevolent ruler smiled down.
Miss K. lifted one foot, clad in soft, clean leather, and
set it down on the first step. No sooner had she begun the journey, the guards,
at an unseen signal from the Queen, unsheathed their swords and barred her way.
She questioned, asked, pleaded, beseeched, and begged for entrance, and then,
when those went unanswered, for understanding, but no explanation was
forthcoming. The Queen would not receive her, and she was escorted from the
palace.
She could not face her friends, so many of whom had already
achieved this goal. Three further times the Queen called for her, and her heart
rose, perhaps a little less joyfully than the time before, and each time the
soldiers barred her way—once she mounted several steps before being rejected,
once she did not make it past the golden gate before they turned her away.
Only the Queen could say what invisible mark of dishonor lay
upon Miss K., and the Queen was not in the habit of explaining herself.
