The Princess

by Jude Deveraux

  They drove for forty-five minutes until they came to a large stone house surrounded by towering trees.

  “This way,” one of the guards said.

  Inside, the house was lit by hundreds of candles in old silver candelabra. There were flags hanging from the ceilings and old, dusty tapestries on the walls.

  One of the guards opened a door and motioned J.T. inside, then shut the door. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The stone-walled room was dark except for its far end.

  A big, gray-haired man sat at the middle of a table covered with silver platters of food. Behind his high-backed, tapestry-covered chair stood a tall, gaunt man.

  “Come in and sit down,” called the gray-haired man. “Have you eaten?”

  “I don’t like being ordered about at gunpoint,” J.T. said, not moving from where he stood.

  “Very few people do, but one has to tolerate such indignities during a war. I have venison, hare, game pie, and some of your American beef. There’s also quail that I shot myself. I don’t believe you’ve had dinner.”

  J.T. moved closer to the table. The man looked to be in his fifties but with the strength and constitution of a younger man. He was strongly built and J.T. was tempted to ask if he had wrestled the steer to death.

  “Ned,” the man said, “pour our American some wine.”

  J.T. gave a shrug and took the seat across from the man and began to fill his plate. “What’s so important that you made me miss my plane?”

  “Your president and I have a favor to ask of you.”

  J.T. paused with a piece of venison on his fork. “Roosevelt?” He gave the man a hard look. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the king of this country, such as it is.”

  J.T. looked at the man awhile longer than began to eat. “I heard you were on your deathbed. You don’t look very sick to me.”

  “You will address His Majesty properly,” snapped the gaunt man behind the king.

  “Ned is very protective of me,” the king said, smiling. “But I don’t think we’re going to teach an American to be subservient. I assume my granddaughter is safely on her way to Escalon to take her rightful place.”

  J.T. didn’t answer. He had heard the king didn’t know what was going on with his granddaughter, but he obviously knew something. J.T. wasn’t going to play his hand and tell the king more than he already knew. “Why don’t you tell me,” he said at last.

  “All right,” the king said. “I believe it started right after my granddaughter began her tour of America. She was kidnapped, probably by someone from Lanconia, then she was to be shot. I believe you, at the risk of your own life, saved her. I will be eternally grateful.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “With your help, she went to the American government to ask for help in reinstating her to her throne. Your army insisted she marry an American and put him on the throne beside her. I believe their objective is military bases in my country.”

  “Among other things.”

  “Ah yes,” the king said. “The vanadium. But then Aria had already agreed to give that to America. Am I correct so far?”

  “I’m not bored yet.”

  The king smiled. “You were chosen to be the husband and I must say, after looking at your family tree, for an American, your ancestry is quite good.”

  J.T. didn’t reply to that but kept eating.

  “The two of you lived in Key West, where you were stationed and where my granddaughter learned to be an American. You must tell me about the photograph that appeared in the Key West Citizen of Aria and your mother. Mrs. Montgomery looks to be a delightful woman.”

  “She’s married. Could you get on with this? I’d like to find another plane leaving this country and get home. I have war work to do there and I can’t afford to be gone any longer.”

  “Ah, your war job. More wine, Lieutenant?” the king asked, and motioned to Ned to refill the glass. “Now my granddaughter has returned and she has, with the help of that bumbling American ambassador, gotten herself reinstated as Princess Aria. And she has once again put her life in danger.”

  J.T. stopped eating. “I was told she’d be protected.”

  “Who can I trust? Ned here is the only person I know to be clear of this plot and he stays with me. I cannot trust Aria’s advisers, her relatives, even her ladies-in-waiting.”

  “Can you find out who put the imposter princess on the throne? That woman has been kidnapped; maybe you can find out something from her.”

  “I sent her to America,” the king answered. “When your president radioed me that my granddaughter had been taken while on American soil, I saw right away the hazards. It could have forced Lanconia into the war. I sent Ned south to get Aria’s cousin, who, except for fifty pounds or so, looks like Aria. She was sent to America immediately to pose as Aria.”

  “Aria said that if you found out she was taken, it would kill you.”

  The king looked at his wineglass. “I am harder to kill than that. Duty and country come first, before personal involvement.”

  “She is just like you.”

  The king smiled. “Your spats are well known, both in America and Lanconia. She is a very good mime, isn’t she?”

  “What do you want from me?” J.T. asked.

  “I want you to remain in Lanconia.”

  “Not on your life,” J.T. said, rising. “I want out of this place. My country is at war and I am needed.”

  “You have already been replaced.”

  “There aren’t many people who know as much about ships as I do,” J.T. said. “I’m not easy to replace.”

  “How about Jason Montgomery? He took over two days ago. Think he’ll be able to do the job?”

  J.T. sat back down. His Uncle Jason was his father’s youngest brother and J.T. hoped that someday he would know as much about ships as his uncle did. “He’ll do quite well. Who is helping my father run Warbrooke Shipping?”

  “Your mother and one of your brothers who was wounded. He prefers to convalesce behind a desk in the shipping office instead of in an army hospital.”

  “You seem to know a damned lot,” J.T. said angrily.

  The king put up his hand to halt Ned. “I have become very interested in you and your family in the last few weeks. I wanted to make sure I could trust you.”

  “I wouldn’t trust anybody if I were you. I never saw a place so riddled with intrigue.”

  “I agree, which is why I want someone who I know is not involved to be near my granddaughter to protect her.”

  J.T. took a deep drink of wine. “Would you mind telling me why anyone would want this backward country? Is vanadium that valuable?”

  “No, but uranium is,” the king said mildly. “Just after the war broke out, Lanconia was found to have several deposits of uranium. I realized right away that if this were made public knowledge we would be part of the war because countries would want control of the uranium. I did my best to keep it secret, but obviously someone knows and someone wants control of the country. Whoever it is must know that Aria is not someone easily controlled so he or she tried to get rid of her.”

  “Then who is left? I don’t imagine you’d go down without a fight.”

  “I was probably next on the list. My granddaughter Eugenia, Aria’s younger sister, would be queen, and she could be controlled rather easily, I’m sorry to say.”

  “You have no idea who wants Aria dead?”

  “It could be anyone or a group of people. I want you to stay and find out, or if not that, stay and protect her.”

  “She’s too hardheaded for anyone to protect. Look, this isn’t my fight. My own country is at war, and if I’m not needed in Key West, I can tote a rifle as well as any man.”

  “But this is something not any man can do. I have told your president that if he releases you to me, I will sell the uranium to America.” The king handed J.T. a sealed envelope stamped TOP SECRET.

  J.T. opened it reluctantly because he knew what it con
tained. It was a letter from President Franklin Roosevelt asking him to remain in Lanconia and help with this difficult matter. He said J.T. could help his country more in Lanconia than he could in America.

  “Why couldn’t he ask me to go to the front line?” J.T. mumbled, folding the letter away.

  The king began eating grapes. “May I ask why such an assignment is so repugnant to you? You will be living in a palace surrounded by great beauty; the most strenuous task you will have is to accompany my granddaughter on her morning ride. You will have the finest food. Why would you rather be shot at?”

  “Because I don’t want to see your granddaughter again, that’s why. She is a spoiled brat who uses people and I’ve had enough of her.”

  “I see. So it is personal. So Americans put personal relationships before duty to their country.”

  “No we don’t. It’s just that—” J.T. stopped talking. “My country means more to me. I want to help however I can.”

  “Then please stay and protect my granddaughter,” the king said. “I’m not used to begging but now I am. She may be a problem to you but she is the comfort of my life. She is kind and warm and loving and she is the future hope of our country. I am sorry you do not see her as I do.”

  “She can be all right,” J.T. said reluctantly, toying with his fork. He did not want to return to seeing Aria every day. “How would I do this?” he asked. “I mean, if I agreed, how would I be introduced into her circle?”

  “As yourself. I would say I had met you when your plane stopped near here for repairs, liked you, and hired you as a technical adviser. Or we could say that your president ordered you here to take charge of the vanadium. Your wife, of course, returned to the United States. You would not have any duties either way except to protect my granddaughter. You would be given every courtesy and every comfort.”

  “What about the people who think Aria is Kathy Montgomery?”

  “They will curse the luck of having a meddling old king.”

  J.T. sat silently for a moment, playing with one of the five forks to the left of his plate. “I can’t do nothing but follow your granddaughter around. I want to make some changes in this country.”

  The king’s face changed from that of a sweet old man to one of a man descended from centuries of warriors. “What changes did you have in mind?”

  “Irrigation. Dams. I’d like to bring some of the twentieth century to this place.”

  The king’s face showed amazement. “You know of such things? How utterly splendid. Of course you may help the peasants in any way you want.”

  “Peasants? No one has freed them?” J.T. asked sarcastically.

  “Of course they are free. It is just an expression.” The king paused. “Lieutenant Montgomery, there is something I want to ask you. There was a General Brooks who reported directly to your president. His description of my granddaughter, of what he saw at your little house in Key West, was it correct?”

  J.T. smiled and let himself remember that afternoon. He seemed able to hear the blaring radio. “Pin-curled hair, blue jeans, my shirt, radio blasting away, slapping hamburgers, and dancing?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The king sounded incredulous. “I have never seen her like that. Her mother, my son’s wife, was very aware that Aria would someday be queen and she raised Aria to have no emotions, or at least never to display them. Tell me, have you ever seen her cry?”

  “Only once.”

  The king contemplated J.T. for a moment. “She allowed you to see that? I had no idea you were so close.”

  “There’s two Arias. There’s Aria, my wife, who can be…” J.T. smiled. “Who can be all right. Then there’s Princess Aria, the little prig. That Aria I can’t stand, and with every minute in this country she becomes more like the bitch I met on the island.”

  The king studied his wineglass. “Perhaps you could teach her to be less of a—what is that word? Prig.”

  “Not me,” J.T. said, pushing back his chair. “I’m staying here to protect her and to help with this country. For my sake she can remain a prig. I’m safer that way. I’m not likely to get involved with her when she’s like that.”

  “You worry about becoming involved with her?” the king asked quietly.

  “Yeah, I do. It was hard enough saying good-bye to her once, and when I have to do it again, it’ll be worse.”

  “Yes, I see,” the king said. “Of course you’ll have to say good-bye again. Your government should have researched our laws. No American commoner can be married legally to the queen. She would have to abdicate. Unless, of course, the people of Lanconia asked for you, which I doubt would happen.”

  “She won’t abdicate, and even if she wanted to, I wouldn’t let her. And it’s good to hear I can’t be king but I wouldn’t accept the position if offered. Now, can somebody point me to a bedroom, or am I to spend the night in the dungeon with the other prisoners?”

  The king nodded to Ned, who pulled a cord on the wall. Immediately, the door opened and the four guards entered.

  “Take Lieutenant Montgomery to the red bedroom,” the king said.

  When J.T. was gone, Ned spoke. “An insolent man. He isn’t worthy of touching Her Royal Highness’s gown.”

  The king leaned back in his chair and smiled. “He is more than I hoped for. You’d better be nice to him, Ned, because if I have my way, that man is going to be the next king of Lanconia.” He laughed at Ned’s sputters.

  Chapter Sixteen

  NO, no, no, no!” Lady Werta screeched. “He is your seventh cousin and twenty-eighth in line for succession.”

  Aria placed the side of her tongue between her back teeth, hoping the pain would remind her to be quiet. She had been awake all night in the goatherder’s cart and they had started her training lesson at six A.M. It was now four P.M. and she was past exhaustion. This morning she had been made to walk for hours. At first Aria had pretended to be a clumsy American trying to walk like a princess, but she was tired and she wanted to be allowed to sit down, so she started walking as she had walked when she was a crown princess.

  It wasn’t good enough for Lady Werta. She said it wasn’t nearly right, that Princess Aria’s walk was much more royal and that this American was never going to be able to carry off the impersonation.

  It was Aria’s first encounter with prejudice. From then on she didn’t try to be anyone but herself—yet, in Lady Werta’s eyes, she was a failure. The lady-in-waiting showed her photographs of people she had not seen since she was a child, quickly told her who they were, shuffled the cards, and expected Aria to have memorized them. And Lady Werta lectured her endlessly on the most trivial matters, such as how to get around the fact that she supposedly did not understand or speak Lanconian.

  The Lord High Chamberlain came into the room at noon. “How does it go?” he asked in Lanconian.

  “She is all right but she doesn’t have Princess Aria’s personality. I hand her a cup of tea and she says ‘thank you’! I think if I served her in a tin mug, she would say ‘thank you.’ No one will believe this person is Princess Aria. She is so nice.”

  Aria was jolted by this information. Had she always been a pain in the neck to everyone?

  She didn’t change her act for several hours but at tea break she was very tired and she let everyone know it.

  “What are these dishes?” she asked. “What are these flowers on them?”

  “I believe they are sweetpeas,” Lady Werta said haughtily. “Hurry and finish so we can continue our lessons.”

  They were in the Lord High Chamberlain’s country house, a place of such spaciousness and grandiosity that Aria vowed to look into the minister’s finances. “I want roses on my tea dishes. Didn’t you say Princess Aria always has roses on her dishes at tea? Then if I am to be her I want roses. And I want fresh cakes. Some of these look like they were left over from the servants’ meal. Do you understand me? I want roses and fresh cakes and then I want a nap. I am tired and I must rest.”

  “Yes, You
r Royal Highness,” Lady Werta said, backing out of the room.

  Aria smiled to herself. It had been a while since ill temper had got her what she wanted.

  She made up for lost time. For the next twenty-four hours she ran Lady Werta’s legs off. There was nothing she didn’t complain of. If it was food, it was too hot or too cold or she didn’t like it. Clothes had to be remade. The Lord High Chamberlain lit a cigarette in her presence and she sent him away with his ears ringing.

  “She’s doing better, isn’t she?” the Lord High Chamberlain said in Lanconian.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Lady Werta said, pushing a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. “She is almost as arrogant as the real princess.”

  “Shall we introduce her into the family?”

  “Tonight. People are beginning to ask me where she is. Have you heard anything about the ransom?”

  “They want millions,” the Lord High Chamberlain said. “I do not know how we can raise it.”

  “Is His Majesty well? No one has told him yet of the kidnapping?”

  “He’s at his hunting lodge. As innocent as a child, although it’s been difficult to keep the secret from him. He’s demanding to see his granddaughter. Princess Eugenia is with him now.”

  Lady Werta sighed. “We’ll have to ready her. The king is getting old. I hope he won’t see through the farce. We should be grateful Princess Aria is such a cold woman. No one will miss her lack of warmth.”

  Aria listened to this stiffly. She hadn’t been cold in America. “You are very rude to speak a language in front of me that I do not understand,” she said angrily. “Now come and show me these photographs again. Who is at the palace now?”

  The oldest part of the Lanconian palace had been built in the thirteenth century by Rowan the Bold. It was a magnificent structure of massive stone blocks, a fortress as strong as the ruler who built it, situated on land that fell away on three sides, the fourth side a gentle slope that in the fourteenth century was used for Hager the Hated’s many public executions. A small river flowed at the bottom of the southeast slope and ran down to the town that the palace overlooked—and dominated.