Princes and Princesses

by Cartland, Barbara

  Then once again the menacing horror of what lay ahead seemed to close over her and blot out the sunshine.

  When she was dressed, she went downstairs to find the Professor sitting at one of the tables under the trees with Andrea and Kliment.

  She saw that he was reading a newspaper and, without thinking it might seem strange, she hurried towards him asking, as she reached his side,

  “What does it say, Professor? Is there any news of what is happening in Maglic?”

  The three men rose to their feet and the Professor replied,

  “It is too soon for them to make any comment on our performance last night. It only announces the arrival of the Crown Prince.”

  That was not what Tora wished to know and with an effort she forced herself to speak quietly and lightly as she answered,

  “I suppose anything that may have happened last night will be in tomorrow’s newspapers.”

  “That’s right,” Kliment said, “which means that we will not see them.”

  Tora felt her spirits drop.

  How would she know what had happened? How would she learn if there had been fighting and bloodshed and if Mikloš had somehow managed to prevent Prince Boris’s wicked scheme from succeeding?

  Then she told herself that, if there was a revolution or even an attempt at one, her father’s Ambassador in Salona would immediately report what was occurring.

  There was silence as the Professor looked at her with an anxious expression before he said,

  “I think we should be leaving. Perhaps Kliment and Andrea will be kind enough to see that the luggage is brought down and put on the carriage.”

  “Yes, of course, Professor,” they said and moved away.

  Tora sat down at the table as the Professor said to her,

  “We have to decide how it would be best for you to re-enter the Palace.”

  “I have been wondering about that, she replied.”

  As she spoke that she knew it was untrue. She had been oblivious of what might happen to herself because she could think only of Mikloš.

  She had, however, dressed herself again in her peasant costume, having nothing else to wear except for the evening gown she had worn last night.

  “It is going to be difficult for you to enter the Palace in the daytime,” the Professor remarked as if he was following the train of his thoughts, “unless Your Highness will consent to an idea I have just thought out. But you may disapprove.”

  “I am not prepared to disapprove of anything, Professor, when you have been so kind and brought me here against what I know was your better judgement.”

  The Professor sighed.

  “I am only so thankful that things have gone so well,” he said. “But I cannot think, Your Highness, what they would say if they knew you actually danced here at the inn with a stranger!”

  She had seen from the Professor’s face that he had been very shocked at the time, but he had known that it was something he could not prevent.

  Tora was certain he thought that she should have refused Mikloš’s invitation.

  “Nobody must ever know,” she said firmly, “and because it has all been such a fantastic adventure for me, I am quite certain it would never enter Papa’s or Mama’s head that I could ever do anything so extraordinary.”

  “I sincerely hope not!” the Professor said with a groan.

  As he spoke, Tora saw the carriage being driven round to the front door and Kliment and Andrea were waiting to instruct the porters how they should lift their boxes into it.

  “Tell me your idea,” she asked quickly.

  “It is this,” the Professor said. “I thought, as my two other musicians live on the outskirts of the City, we would drop them off first. Then if Your Highness will be so gracious as to lie down on the floor of the carriage, I will cover you with a rug and drive through the Palace gates past the sentries.”

  As she listened to what he was saying, Tora’s eyes began to twinkle.

  Then the Professor continued in a somewhat embarrassed manner,

  “When we are out of sight amongst the shrubs, I will contrive to stop the carriage so that Your Highness can jump out. Then I will drive on without you and perhaps you could slip into the Palace through a side door or a window.”

  Tora could not help a little laugh.

  “Professor, you are a genius at other things besides music and it is a perfect plan. I am only so sorry that I shall never be able to tell anybody how clever you are.”

  “I can only pray that this wild escapade, Your Highness, will never be discovered,” the Professor replied. “I have always been told that our prison is extremely uncomfortable and the food quite inedible!”

  Tora laughed again and put her hand over the Professor’s as she said,

  “Thank you, thank you for what you have done for me! It has been a most exciting adventure and something I will never ever forget!”

  She thought as she spoke that perhaps in the future it would be the only happy experience she would have to remember.

  Because the Professor obviously knew what she was feeling, he said,

  “Surely, Your Highness, you can persuade the Grand Duke that the King is far too old for you?”

  “Papa is not thinking of me,” Tora replied, “but of the advantage such an alliance will bring to Radoslav.”

  “That I can understand,” the Professor said, “but the whole idea is monstrous and should not be allowed.”

  “I thought he was – horrible,” Tora said in a low voice. “I intend to do everything in my power not to marry him, but it will be very – very difficult.”

  She thought that in fact it would be impossible, but there was really no point in saying so.

  Then, as the Professor looked at her with pain in his eyes, they heard Kliment’s voice calling out that they were ready to leave.

  *

  Afterwards Tora thought how fortunate she had been that everything went so smoothly and exactly as the Professor had planned.

  They had dropped Andrea and Kliment off and then, as soon as they were out of sight of Kliment’s house, which was the nearer to the Palace, Tora had lain down on the floor of the carriage and the Professor had covered her with a rug, which they had not needed over their knees during the journey because it was such a warm day.

  It was a light rug, but even so Tora at first found it hard to breathe and then she knew that it was more from nervousness than because she was being suffocated.

  The Professor’s manservant driving the carriage had no idea what they were doing.

  When they turned in at the back gate through which Tora had left the Palace early yesterday morning, she heard one of the sentries wishing the Professor “good morning.”

  “It’s a nice day,” the Professor replied carelessly.

  They drove on through the big wrought iron gates and up the long drive which was bordered by trees.

  As they neared the point where there were a number of lilac and syringa bushes, Tora felt the Professor take the rug off her.

  Then standing up he held onto the back of the coachman’s seat and said to the driver,

  “Stop a minute, Josef. I have just remembered something very stupid!”

  “What is it, mein herr?” Josef replied.

  And then Tora slipped out of the carriage and ran as fast as she could into the shrubs and stood there breathlessly.

  As the carriage started off again, she could see the Professor sink down onto the back seat.

  When she heard the carriage drive away, Tora thought that the Professor was so kind and understanding that despite his age she would not have minded so much being his wife.

  Then she knew that every nerve in her body screamed out at the idea of being the wife of any man except Mikloš.

  ‘I am his, I belong to him and we have been part of each other since the beginning of time,’ she mused.

  It was a protest that seemed to fly from her heart into the sky and then, even as it did so, she knew it was
hopeless. Her father would no more allow her to marry a commoner than marry the devil himself!

  There had been one mésalliance in the family some years ago when one of their cousins, when she was nearly middle-aged and despairing of ever finding a husband, had married a Danish Diplomat. The scandal had reverberated throughout the family.

  She had been criticised, abused and even ostracised for such behaviour in such an exaggerated manner that Tora felt they could hardly have said more if she had run away with a criminal.

  “Royal Blood can only mix with Royal Blood!” her father had thundered not once but a dozen times a day when it had first happened.

  Afterwards seldom a week passed even now when he did not bring up the subject and say what a disgrace to their name it had been.

  ‘I would not care if that happened to me,’ Tora thought, but Mikloš might care and therefore would not marry me.’

  Suddenly a thought came to her that made her stand still amongst the shrubs.

  He had not mentioned marriage!

  Perhaps he had meant only the same thing as the Crown Prince of Croatia had suggested to her last night!

  The idea was so horrifying that she wanted to thrust it away from her.

  Then she told herself that he loved her, really loved her, and she was sure that he would not defame or spoil anything so perfect and so sacred as their love had seemed.

  At least that was what it had been to her, but perhaps he was different.

  Perhaps, if he was a Salonan aristocrat, as she suspected, he would not wish to ally himself with a peasant girl whose one asset was that she was a good musician.

  Because her whole world seemed to be tumbling about her ears, Tora, as if she was running away from her own thoughts, pushed her way through the shrubs.

  In front of her she saw the garden door she had left the Palace through so early yesterday morning.

  She hoped that it would be open because her mother had always insisted that in the warm weather the doors and windows of the Palace should be opened first thing in the morning to let in the cool air.

  Leaving the shelter of the shrubs, she ran across the drive and reached the garden door to find, as she had hoped, that it was half-open.

  She slipped through it, found the stairs leading to the floor where her bedroom was situated and reached it without being seen by anybody.

  There she quickly undressed, hiding away her peasant costume before she jumped into her bed and rang the bell.

  It was some time before it was answered by one of the housemaids who usually waited on her and when the woman came into the room she gave a cry of astonishment.

  “Your Highness, you’ve returned! We had no idea you were back!”

  “Yes, I am back,” Tora confirmed, “and I would like some coffee please and after that a bath.”

  The housemaid till exclaiming with surprise, hurried away to find her lady’s maid.

  Tora lay back against the pillows, closed her eyes and thought of Mikloš.

  She was not, however, to get off lightly for her father, on learning of her return, sent for her and a storm broke over her head.

  Her father repeated over and over again that it was unthinkable that anybody in her position should leave the Palace without his permission, without a Royal carriage to carry her wherever she was going and without her taking a Lady-in-Waiting with her.

  He went on and on and because he was so incensed at the way she had left and returned, he quite forgot to ask her where she had been or more importantly what her feelings were about her forthcoming marriage to the King.

  Only when Tora felt that she had passed through a typhoon that left her bruised and battered did she escape from her father’s presence and find her way as if instinctively towards the music room.

  There she sat down at the piano to play over and over again the tunes she had danced to with Mikloš and the Professor’s love song, which had still been singing in their hearts when he kissed her.

  *

  The following day Tora found it hard to wait for the Professor’s arrival to give her a music lesson.

  She had sent a messenger from the Palace to tell him that she was expecting him and, when he arrived, all she wanted to know was if he had any news of what was happening in Maglic.

  The Professor shook his head.

  “There was nothing about our performance in our newspapers,” he said, “but as you well know, Your Highness, a prophet is not without honour except in his own country!”

  “I-I was wondering if you had – heard anything else?” Tora asked tentatively.

  “What sort of thing?” the Professor asked.

  She thought that there would be no harm in telling him the truth, and she answered,

  “I think the reason why we were sent away in such a hurry – was that they were expecting – trouble in the City.”

  “Trouble?” the Professor repeated. “Do you mean that Prince Boris is up to his tricks again?”

  “Somebody said something like that – might happen,” Tora said, choosing her words with care.

  “They should deal with that young man!” the Professor remarked. “The more I hear of his behaviour, the more abominable I find him!”

  “What have you heard?”

  “Nothing that I could repeat to Your Highness,” the Professor replied, “but my friend, the innkeeper of The Three Bells was telling me how he terrifies a lot of people and, if they don’t do what he wants, he makes life very difficult for them.”

  Tora thought this must have been the reason why the innkeeper had allowed Prince Boris to hold his secret meetings with his friends in The Three Bells.

  He would, of course, be too frightened to refuse somebody so important however despicable he might be.

  It was, when she thought about it, an excellent place for revolutionaries to meet because, being on the border of another country, there was always a way of escape if they were threatened by the King’s forces.

  “As you can imagine, Professor,” she said, “I am very anxious to know if anything untoward happened last night, besides, of course, wanting to read the praise that you have undoubtedly received in the newspapers.”

  The Professor looked worried.

  “I cannot see how we can get hold of them,” he said, “although I suppose I could send a carriage to The Three Bells.”

  “Wait until tomorrow,” Tora said. “Perhaps – we shall hear something before then.”

  “Because he thought it was good for Tora to think of something else, the Professor insisted they should play together.

  Yet perhaps for the first time Tora found it impossible to concentrate on the exquisite sounds they were making.

  She could only think of Mikloš being in danger and perhaps being shot down by Prince Boris.

  *

  “There must be some news!” Tora insisted three days later.

  The Professor had arrived at the Palace to tell her once again that there was no news from Maglic.

  “Something must have happened!” she cried.

  “If it has, Your Highness, then it has not been allowed to be printed into the newspapers.”

  “I suppose,” Tora said after a moment, “if there has been a revolution of any kind, the authorities would censor – any report of it.”

  “I think,” the Professor answered, “that, if Prince Boris has been successful in an uprising, he would give orders that nothing was to be printed about it, fearing reprisals not only in other parts of Salona but from her neighbours.”

  “And if the revolution was crushed – by the King’s troops?”

  “Then undoubtedly, while the Generals would want the honour and glory, the politicians would do everything possible to keep it a secret.”

  “But why?”

  “Because, Your Highness, it would show up their inefficiency in allowing the revolutionaries to take them by surprise.”

  It all sounded very logical, Tora thought, but that did not help her and her anxiety for M
ikloš grew greater every day.

  She felt sometimes at night, when she could only lie and think about him and find the tears running down her cheeks, that she would go mad.

  ‘How can I go through the rest of my life not knowing if he is alive or dead?’ she asked herself frantically.

  She knew with horror that the only way she could find out would be to marry the King and then make enquiries on the spot.

  Because she felt more miserable than she had ever felt in her life, the news her father gave her the following morning came like a bombshell.

  “I have just been informed,” he said, “that King Radul has put forward the date of his visit here and will be arriving the day after tomorrow instead of next week, as was first intended.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Tora exclaimed.

  “Why should you not believe it,” her father asked sharply, “when I have just told you that that is what he intends to do?”

  Tora was silent and the Grand Duke went on.

  “I expect he is in a hurry to get married again, because from what I hear Prince Boris is making trouble as he has been trying to do for the last two years.”

  Tora felt it was impossible to speak.

  She wanted to tell her father there and then that she would not marry the King and it was therefore a waste of time his coming to Radoslav.

  Then she thought that if he did come she might be able to find out what had happened.

  She would ask him point blank, even though he might think it strange, if he knew Mikloš, and what had happened to him. She realised this would seem an absurd question considering that she did not know his other name.

  Yet she was so frantic for news that for the moment she was not even frightened of meeting the King, but determined to know the answer to the question that haunted her day and night – was Mikloš alive?

  She wondered if by using the information she had been able to give him, he had somehow prevented the revolution from taking place.

  Although Prince Boris may have postponed his plans for the moment and was waiting for another opportunity to strike!

  ‘That might make things worse,’ Tora thought.

  But, if it meant that Mikloš was alive and uninjured, that was all that mattered.