At night, Anna had troubling dreams. They weren’t nightmares but dreams that left her feeling disturbed when she awoke in the morning. Twice, the Old Judge came to her in the dreams. “You’ve been chosen,” he said. “But your heart is not ready. In your heart, you must have faith in the Unseen One. Then you will be His voice.”
Anna argued, “But nobody ever listens to me. I couldn’t even keep my brother from going into that old house.”
The Old Judge smiled and said, “A greater power than your brother was at work. You two were brought here to be a voice and a protector.”
“A voice and a protector?”
Then he faded away. She woke up.
Other times, in the middle of the day, she would be doing something normal like working in the garden or reading one of the Old Judge’s books, and suddenly it was as if she were no longer where she was but had been transported to another place to witness scenes of other people. The scenes made no sense to her. In one instance, she saw King Lawrence throwing a temper tantrum in his study.
“Still alive?” he screamed.
“The assassination attempt in the hills near Krawley failed. The fool missed,” reported someone Anna couldn’t see.
The king swept his arm across his desk, sending the paper, pens, ink blotter, telephone, and decorations exploding away. Then, suddenly, Anna saw him alone. He wept like a child.
“Please,” he prayed with tear-filled eyes, “let me have the kingdom back.”
When the prayer didn’t bring him satisfaction, he marched around the room angrily, pouting like a spoiled brat. Anna found it a pathetic thing to watch.
Then, just as suddenly, she was back at the cottage, in the same position, doing the same thing she’d been doing before the weird “daydream.”
She didn’t tell the Old Judge about her dreams. She was afraid he would think she was crazy or hallucinating. Anyway, she knew, adults rarely believed her when she told them unusual things. When she was younger, she had an active imagination, often thinking up other lands and people and stories about them. But when she told her parents or teachers about her imaginings, they just smiled and nodded dismissively. “What an imagination!” they’d say, then tell her to get back to her math homework or science project. As she got older, she stopped imagining so much. It wasn’t practical or helpful with her grades at school. “Stick with the real world,” the adults told her. So she did. But now that the real world had disappeared, she wondered if her imagination had taken over again. For all she knew, this whole experience was just a dream and, in reality, she was lying with a high fever in a bed somewhere.
“When can I go home?” she asked the Old Judge on their third day together.
He shrugged and said, “I wish I could tell you.”
“Does that mean you know and can’t tell me or that you don’t know?”
He gazed at her. His odd-colored eyes captured her. “These things must be taken by faith—one day at a time,” he replied. He waited as if he expected her to tell him something. She was tempted to tell him about the dreams but resisted. He sighed. “One day at a time,” he said again.
The night before the wedding of Darien and Michelle, King Lawrence threw a small banquet at his palace. The king was there with his entire family, including Prince George; his two brothers, Andrew and William; their sister Mary; and her new husband, Frederick, the prince of Albany. (The king’s wife, their mother, had died a couple of years before.) Darien and Michelle were there, of course. Darien’s family, who lived on the opposite side of the country, couldn’t attend the banquet but were to arrive later that night for the festivities the following day. General Liddell was also there and stayed at the king’s elbow the entire evening. There were dozens of servants and attendants as well, including Kyle, who stood off to the side and looked uncomfortable in the formal uniform he’d been made to wear.
The skirmish with the Adrians seemed to dominate most of the discussion that night. General Liddell spoke proudly of his men’s skill in battle. Kyle noticed that he didn’t refer to Darien by name. In fact, to Kyle’s surprise, no one mentioned the attempt to kill Darien at all. At first he thought it was because most people would’ve considered it rude or bad luck to bring up such a subject on the eve of a wedding. But as Kyle watched the various guests—the king and General Liddell in particular—he had a strong feeling that there were more sinister reasons to keep the subject under wraps. A thought came to him suddenly and for no apparent reason: The king himself arranged the murder attempt. Kyle tried to make the thought go away, but it wouldn’t.
Darien and Michelle were attentive to each other. He kissed her hand while she blushed shyly, then gently teased her and treated her playfully as one might treat a friend.
But something was missing. Kyle remembered how his mother and father sometimes looked at each other with a deep affection. Kyle didn’t see it in Darien’s eyes. Michelle, on the other hand, was nervous and self-conscious. Kyle thought of a girl at school who had developed a crush on him. She had talked to him with ease up until then, but she suddenly became speechless around him. Her feelings got hurt quickly, and she sometimes punched him in the arm for no apparent reason. Michelle reminded Kyle of that girl. It was as if she had a schoolgirl crush on Darien. Was that love? Kyle didn’t know for sure.
On the way to the banquet, Darien had briefly explained to Kyle that people often didn’t marry for love. They married because their parents had arranged it. Or, in the case of kings and governments, marriages were politically expedient to secure relationships and allies. Kyle had told Darien that he thought those kinds of marriages were sad. “Not always,” Darien had said. “Some marriages start out of necessity, then grow into love. Sometimes they begin with basic respect, and that’s enough.”
Watching Darien and Michelle as the evening went on, Kyle knew they did not love each other. Maybe they shared enough respect to make them happy. Time would tell, he figured.
After dinner had been served, the crowd urged Darien to play a few pieces on the grand piano that stood in the corner of the room. He reluctantly agreed and performed songs that made Kyle want to cry and leap for joy at the same time. They stirred something in his heart in a way that he never thought music could do. The guests were so moved that, when Darien finished the last song, no one stirred or applauded.
King Lawrence downed a gobletful of wine, then clapped his hands. He announced in rather slurred speech that he had some surprises for the happy couple. Two servants brought out beautifully wrapped presents for his daughter. She opened them to discover a necklace, earrings, and a ring that had belonged to her mother. Michelle wept and hugged her father in gratitude. For Darien, King Lawrence had an antique crossbow.
“It works!” he said to Darien as he loaded a small arrow onto the horizontal bow. He put the stock against his shoulder and pulled the string back until the arrow was nestled and cocked in its slot. To everyone’s dismay, he pointed the crossbow around the room as if he might fire at whatever—or whomever—struck his fancy.
“Sire,” General Liddell said and rested a hand on the king’s arm.
The king laughed and put the crossbow onto the banquet table. “Oh, don’t be so peevish, General,” he said.
Crowds had been gathering outside the palace the entire evening, and now they broke into a familiar chant for Darien. “Darien! Darien! Darien!” they called.
Prince George broke the tension by saying jovially, “I believe the crowd would appreciate an appearance by the bride and bridegroom on the balcony.” He stood up and waved for a servant to open the double doors. The roar of the crowd intensified. “Darien! Darien! Darien!”
“Go on, Darien,” someone encouraged. “Show the world your bride!”
Darien stood up, took his bride’s hand, and led her to the balcony. The rest of the banquet guests joined them.
The sight of Darien and Michelle threw people into a frenzy of cheering and shouts. In return, Darien smiled, waved, then kissed the han
d of the bride-to-be. The people shouted more loudly in appreciation.
After several minutes of this, Darien indicated that they should go back in to the banquet. “Let’s not bore them,” he said pleasantly as they turned back toward the banquet hall.
“Bore them?” Prince William said boisterously. “You could never bore them, Darien. They love you. You can do no wrong as far as they’re concerned!”
What happened next happened so quickly that Kyle barely had time to act. He glanced over in time to see the king, who was slumped in his chair, reach toward the crossbow. It didn’t look like a purposeful act. He casually placed his hand on the stock of the weapon and rubbed the wood lightly. Kyle felt an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sense that something wasn’t right. Does he mean to shoot Darien? Kyle wondered. But the king’s manner was so careless that Kyle couldn’t be sure. Yet that feeling, so like the one he had had on the Krawley hillside, said that Darien was in danger. How could he warn Darien without causing a scene?
Kyle looked over at the glass-paned double doors where Darien, Michelle, and the other guests were returning from the balcony. Michelle entered, with Darien following. The king fiddled with the crossbow. His fingers stretched toward the trigger. Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a round brass button shaped like a marble, an extra to the same buttons along his waistcoat and cloak. With a quick flick of his wrist—barely noticeable to anyone around him—he threw the button across the floor toward Darien.
Michelle and the guests continued walking into the hall. Darien, who was crossing in front of the grand piano, had turned to say something to one of the guests when his eye caught sight of the button sliding toward his feet. He bent down to pick it up. Suddenly there was a loud click and a hissing sound, followed by the arrow from the crossbow slamming into the upright lid of the piano. The force splintered the wood and sent a discordant note shivering through the instrument. It had missed Darien only by inches and would have hit him if he hadn’t stooped down. Kyle breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Some of the guests screamed and moved back. Darien turned in the direction from which the arrow had come. All eyes followed. The king looked up sullenly from his place at the table, his hand still on the crossbow. He said in a wine-filled voice, “My dear boy, I’m so sorry! I was reaching for the confounded thing, and it simply went off. A light touch on the trigger. I do apologize. Good thing I wasn’t aiming, eh?”
Darien glared at the king without speaking.
“Father!” Michelle cried out.
Prince George strode to the table and snatched up the crossbow indignantly. “You could have killed him!” he growled. He turned quickly. “General Liddell!” he barked.
“Yes, sir.” General Liddell broke from the crowd and stepped forward.
“My father has had too much to drink. See him to his room, if you please.”
“Yes, sir.” General Liddell rounded the table and helped the king to his feet.
“It was an accident!” the king protested drunkenly as General Liddell led him away. “Do you honestly think I’d try to kill my greatest general—the greatest in the entire land? The greatest in history?”
After the king had gone, Darien turned to Michelle, kissed her hand once again, and said, “I will see you tomorrow, my princess.” He signaled Kyle, and together they walked toward the door.
“So soon? So early?” Prince Andrew called out. “Now that Father’s gone, this party can really heat up. Do stay, Darien.”
“I’m sorry, but I must think of tomorrow,” he said from the door. He gave them a half-salute and walked out, closing the door behind him.
“That was a close call,” Kyle said as they walked down the hall.
“Too close, as far as I’m concerned,” Darien replied. He handed the button back to Kyle. “This is yours, I assume?”
Kyle nodded.
“Someday you’re going to have to explain to me how you always know when my life is in danger.”
“I don’t know,” Kyle said simply as he pocketed the button again. “So Prince George was right. The king wants to kill you.”
“It would appear so.”
“Unless it really was an accident.”
Darien gave Kyle a look of disbelief. “If it was an accident, it would have been an awfully convenient accident.”
Anna had just finished washing for bed. She grabbed a towel, dried her face, and looked in the mirror. She gasped. Instead of seeing her reflection, it was as if she were looking through a window into a large bedroom with an enormous bed surrounded by thick curtains. At the foot of the bed, King Lawrence sat with his legs stretched out. General Liddell pulled at the king’s boots. They were in an animated conversation, though Anna couldn’t hear it. The king was angry about something, as usual. Suddenly Prince George stormed into the room. He shouted at his father. His father shouted back. Prince George paced, shook his finger at the king as if rebuking him for something, then left.
More calmly, King Lawrence and General Liddell spoke to each other. They had the look of two conspirators hatching a dangerous plot. The king was emphatic about what he wanted done. General Liddell finally saluted and marched out of the room.
The king staggered to the side of the bed and threw himself facedown onto the thick cushions. The room was still for a moment. Then a shadow moved in the window. The curtains parted, and a woman Anna had never seen before stepped out. She glanced nervously at the king on his bed, then crossed the room and leaned against a wall next to a bookcase. Watching the king closely, she reached over to the chair rail that lined the wall and pressed something along the top. A secret door in the wall opened, and she slipped out of the room. The secret door closed, and the wall looked as solid as it had before.
Anna trembled for a moment, and then the room disappeared, replaced by her face in the mirror. She looked pale. Her knees felt weak, and her arms ached from clutching the washstand tightly. Composing herself, she splashed water on her face again, dried off, and then stepped into the hallway to go to her room.
The Old Judge stood there, waiting for her. “Are you well?” he asked.
Anna swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I am,” she said.
“You look shaken,” he said.
She avoided his gaze as she walked past him. “I’m all right,” she affirmed.
But she knew his eyes were on her as she slipped into her room. In bed, she pulled her pillow close. What are these scenes I keep seeing? she wondered. Why am I seeing them? She eventually closed her eyes for a night of restless sleep.
At home once again, Darien sat down at his piano and played songs that were alternately mournful and passionate. Kyle sat nearby and watched him. Darien’s playing wasn’t an idle amusement. He was thinking as he played, trying to decide what to do next.
Kyle shifted in his seat nervously. “What are you going to do?” he eventually asked.
“A very good question, lad,” Darien said. He stopped playing, closed the lid on the piano, and rested his elbows there.
“If you think the king tried to kill you, you’d be crazy to stick around,” Kyle said. “Shouldn’t you escape while you can?”
Darien shook his head. “What about the wedding tomorrow?” he asked. “I can’t simply disappear in the night without an explanation. What would I say? ‘Oh, sorry, but I couldn’t marry the princess because the king tried to kill me with a crossbow.’ It would be an accusation—my word against the king’s.”
“What if you just don’t show up?”
“Another scandal. How could I insult the princess and her royal family like that? The entire nation would be up in arms.”
Just then, they heard a light tapping at the French doors leading to the garden.
Kyle’s face brightened. “I’ll bet it’s Prince George,” he said. “He’ll know what to do.”
Darien crossed over to the doors but didn’t open them. Instead, he stood next to the wall and carefully lifted the curtain for a peek. His face registered
surprise, and he quickly opened the doors. Princess Michelle, dressed in a black cloak with a hood, rushed in. Kyle, also surprised, stood up.
“What brings you here, my princess?” Darien asked.
“We haven’t much time,” the princess said. “They’re on their way.”
“Who is?” Darien asked.
“General Liddell’s guards. They’ve been instructed to arrest you.”
“On what charge?”
“Treason.”
“That’s insane!”
“Insane or not, it’s what my father wants.”
Darien fumed. “No one will believe it,” he insisted. “How could they prove such a thing?”
“You underestimate my father. He has it all worked out. They’re going to claim that the man who tried to assassinate you outside Krawley had learned that you were hatching a plot to overthrow the king. You had him killed to keep him quiet.”
“I didn’t have him killed! The soldiers there will attest to that.”
“What soldiers? General Liddell’s soldiers?” the princess asked, shocked at Darien’s naïveté. “They’re duty bound to whatever the general and the king tell them. You must leave—now.”
Darien eyed her warily. “You’re the king’s daughter. Why should I believe you?”
The princess opened her mouth to speak, but tears fell from her eyes instead. “I know my father wanted me to marry you so I’d keep an eye on you for him. And I know you’re marrying me only because the king wants you to. No one stopped to ask my feelings, though. And the truth is, I love you. I have from the first time I met you.”
A sympathetic smile crossed Darien’s face, and he took the princess’s hands in his and kissed them both. “I’m humbled and undeserving of your love, my princess,” he said.
A hard pounding at the front door interrupted their tender moment. Darien, Princess Michelle, and Kyle raced into the hallway just as Edward, the head servant, made his way to the door.
The Marus Manuscripts Page 6