Pandora's box Part 3

It was a tedious necessity to call a meeting with the elders. After all, it was the law of the land, laid down by her great-grandfather, that any sizeable decision should be placed before them, for their apparent agreement or advice. Although they remonstrated with her for her daring plan, they had no real power. They knew it, and, more importantly, Pandora knew it too.

“Ma’am, may I be so bold as to remind you that this Epimetheus is a stranger to our land,” Robert, chief of the elders pointed out, his eyes studiously examining the rug decorating the stone hall.

William, a squat, dark-eyed elder with a bald head and scarred cheek backed him up. “Indeed, what do we know of this man, except that he arrived suddenly in your palace grounds, without permission to enter the grounds.”

“What is your meaning? State it clearly,” Pandora snapped.

William blanched but bravely continued. “I would merely urge caution, your majesty. What do any of us know of Epimetheus, but what he tells us.”

“So might the same be said of any man, including you, William of Borewood,” Pandora answered. “May I remind you, gentlemen,” she hissed the word as if it was an insult. “This council urged me to take a husband, and I have now chosen my groom, as directed.”

Robert glanced up. “A husband, yes, but one known to us would be better, surely.”

“Better for whom? I am not a brood mare to be farmed out to your chosen stallion, Robert of Lockland. I have chosen Epimetheus as my husband, and the country will only benefit from new blood in our line,” Pandora said.

There was a shuffling of feet as the six Elders, all old men way past their prime, understood her brazen meaning.

Pandora’s grey eyes blazed with defiant fire, daring any one of them to suggest that she was past her child-rearing days. None dared. After all, it was treasonous to suggest that a king or queen was unable to continue the line of succession, and treason was still enough to warrant a death sentence in these lands.

Pandora clicked her fingers and the elders bowed low, shuffling backwards from the room. However much they would certainly whisper amongst themselves, there was nothing they could actually do to stop her. The wedding would take place in one week’s time, and nothing in their power would stop it.

***

The whispering started that very night, not that amongst the elders, but the hissing sound deep within the metal, bejewelled box.

“Pandora, open me. See what treasure lies inside my metal frame.”  The voice swept around the room, insistent and mesmerizing.

Pandora shifted in her bed, her eyes drawn instantly to the box. She could just make out its dark shadow, calling her to approach.

“Pandora, I hold the answer to your dreams.” The voice raced around the room, ruffling her loose, dark hair.

“Pandora, I hold the secret to all you could ever desire.”

Pandora sat bolt upright in bed, her heart thumping against her ribcage.

“I desire a husband and a child,” she whispered into the night air.

The chains holding the box closed rattled and then there was silence.

Pandora clutched at the velvet blanket covering her and repeated her wish, her voice slicing through the silence. “I desire a husband and child above all things.”

Still, there was no reply.

Pandora pushed the blanket aside and crept across the room, her fingers feeling for the solid frame in the cloying darkness. She touched the box and a spark in the grate flared into life, illuminating the jewels.

“Give me what I desire!” she ordered.

“Open me, Pandora,” whispered the box. “And your dreams will surely come true.”

***

Aurora lay in the antechamber, the room she occupied at night, near to her mistress in case of need. She gazed at the door, mesmerised by the longing tone shaking Pandora’s usual assured tone.

Earlier, after Epimetheus had confided in her about the wedding plans, Aurora had childishly contemplated running away. She had hidden in the laundry, crying pathetic tears into the sheets and petticoats. Of course, she had not expected Epimetheus to seriously consider her in a romantic way – after all, what was she but an impoverished and illegitimate maid, barely worthy of anyone’s attention. Yet, it did seem unfair that Pandora could snap her fingers and demand any prize she desired, including eligible bachelors newly arrived from foreign shores.

Aurora had fervently wished that her life would change and that Pandora would suffer disappointment, shocked to find such bitterness in her heart. She had run from Epimetheus, ashamed of her own dark thoughts, chased by the sound of the fates whispering in the skies above her.

Yet now, hearing the deep longing in Pandora’s voice, Aurora’s heart only ached with pity. Despite her riches, Pandora was not a happy woman. Pandora’s child-bearing years had surely disappeared long ago, and Aurora was sure that her mistress was aware of this. Could she truly bind such a lively, lusty man as Epimetheus to her side without the promise of an heir? It was unlikely. Nay, it was impossible. The union was doomed before it began.

Aurora had not had much experience of the world, yet she knew that wealth and a legitimate bloodline were the only things men clung to. Women could be cast aside easily, once their usage did not please or amuse, even if they were queens of the realm.

Aurora longed to open the door, to comfort in some way. Of course, she knew this would not be welcomed. Yet, she longed to help in whatever small way she could. Above all, she knew that she could not leave her mistress now.