By Sarah Taylor
The Queen of Swords is a particularly striking figure in this week’s layout, which, like the Queen, makes its point succinctly. She sits, side-on, a figure of authority — her right-facing position and gesturing hand clearly indicating the next two cards.
Rarely have I seen her so directed. Not that she hasn’t appeared in a similar position before, but this time it feels marked. Maybe it is the contrast between the resolve in the set of her jaw and the wind-blasted landscape behind her, and the fluid motions of the dancing children and the grassy countryside in the Ten of Cups.
More than that: it is as if her opened hand is guiding the rainbow in the Ten into being — as if it springs from her in response to a silent command. Because the Queen need not say anything. It is her presence alone that conveys her sovereignty. Nothing more is required.
Swords are the suit associated with the mind, and with air, and the Queen of Swords, when she is comfortably in her element, wields the sword of clear-headed leadership. The red bands around her wrist, which have associations with the bond of marriage, are no longer joined, severed by the sword in her left hand: her sense of truth is seated in her independence. In other words, her primary commitment is to the truth of which she is sole guardian.