Dare to Love

by Jennifer Wilde

  “You can look out the window again,” he told me. “The sheer drop is behind us. We’re moving toward the valley. In half an hour you’ll have a stunning view of Barivna.”

  “Is—is the political situation really as tense as I’ve heard?”

  Phillipe frowned, reluctant to discuss it. “There’ve been a few clashes between the students and the Sturnburg militia,” he conceded. “Sturnburg is making unreasonable demands on the King and trying to impose restrictions, but there’s nothing for you to be concerned about. Let me tell you about your palace.”

  “I’m to have a palace?”

  “A rather small one,” he hastened to add, almost apologetically, “that His Majesty has allocated for your use. But it’s white marble, two stories high, with lovely gardens. And the interior is all white and gilding, with crystal chandeliers and exquisite French furniture and blue and violet and silver-gray velvet hangings. The King had it redecorated especially for you.”

  “I—I’m amazed.”

  “He put the decorators to work as soon as he returned from Bonn. He’s renamed the palace ‘Chez Elena.’ You’ll have a complete staff, chef, butler, footmen, maids. His Majesty wants you to be very comfortable.”

  I was silent, thinking about the sad-eyed king and all the preparations he had made for my arrival. Phillipe fell silent, too, and a short while later the carriage rounded a curve on the mountain road and I had my first glimpse of the tiny kingdom of Barivna, incredibly lovely in the distance, its capital iridescent in the late afternoon sun. Sumptuous palaces cast shimmering reflections in lakes and lagoons, surrounded by a landscape lush with trees and gardens. The university was a vast complex, the buildings almost as ornate as the palaces. A glittering stream, spanned by several bridges, wound through the streets of the town proper.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “Much larger than it looks from here,” Phillipe informed me. “There are outlying villages and rich farmland throughout the valley. Barivna is extremely wealthy and commands a very strategic position.”

  “I didn’t see the barracks,” I said as the carriage rounded another curve and the view of Barivna was cut off.

  “They’re behind the town, blessedly hidden by groves of trees. The King refused to let Sturnburg build barracks within the town itself. They’re not very pretty.”

  “I can imagine.”

  We fell silent again as the carriage began to descend into the valley, passing lush fields where cattle grazed and small, quaint villages where healthy, robust men and their stocky, pink-cheeked wives paused to wave at the royal carriage, thinking, perhaps, that the King was inside. On the floor of the valley now, there were fields and farms on either side; the town lay three miles ahead. The road broadened and became a wide avenue lined with tall, graceful elms, and soon we were riding through the capital, bowling past the shops and cafes, moving over stone bridges.

  A loud, roaring noise startled me. Phillipe smiled, and I looked out the window to see a mob of young men deserting their tables at a beer garden to rush toward the carriage. They yelled and waved and pursued the carriage in a merry pack, their number constantly increasing. Had it not been for their obvious good humor I would have been terrified.

  “What—what’s that they’re yelling?” I asked.

  “‘Elena,’” Phillipe said. “‘Bravo Elena.’”

  “But how did they know I—”

  “All of Barivna knows I went to fetch you. The students have been expecting you, and when they saw the carriage they knew you were inside. When tickets to your performance go on sale they’ll probably tear the theater down in their scramble for seats.”

  “They’re certainly exuberant.”

  “Students must have an idol. You’re theirs. You represent freedom, liberation from dull convention. You’ve dared to defy the bourgeois world, to live with color and boldness, breaking all the rules, making your own choices. They adore you for it.”

  Phillipe opened the window for me to lean out. As I did so, the roar was deafening. The students swarmed around the carriage like a pack of puppies, running to keep up with the horses, cheering lustily. I felt a glorious exultation as I saw those handsome, glowing young faces and heard the students crying my name. I wished that I had flowers to toss, but I blew kisses instead, and they cheered all the louder. Finally, the carriage rumbled over a narrow bridge and the students fell back, unable to keep apace. Phillipe shook his head as I settled back against the cushions.

  “You’re going to love Barivna,” he promised.

  “I’ve never had such a rousing welcome. They make the students in Oxford and Cambridge seem positively demure.”

  As we drove on through the town I noticed stern-looking soldiers in white and green uniforms, their helmets adorned with stiff red crests. The soldiers strolled about arrogantly, and several lounged at outdoor cafes, staring at the carriage with sullen eyes. We went by parks and museums and circled one of the small, sparkling blue lakes, then passed a parade ground where more soldiers rode in formation on splendid chestnut horses. Still elated by the students’ reception, I paid little heed to the large, brutish men in uniform. We entered sumptuous formal gardens, near the largest lake. A few minutes later the carriage slowed down and turned up a circular drive before coming to a stop in front of Chez Elena.

  As Phillipe helped me out of the carriage, I gazed in wonderment at the small, ornate palace. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined; its white marble polished by sunlight, fountains splashing, gardens abloom with roses. The palace stood on the edge of the lake, and I could see the royal castle on the other side, across the water, an immense, majestic edifice that sprawled in splendor, white and gold, with elegant staircases and graceful wings and galleries that extended on either side of the main structure.

  “How do you like your new home?” Phillipe inquired.

  “I—I’m overcome.”

  “There are only twenty rooms,” he apologized, leading me up the front steps.

  “Only twenty?” I teased.

  “The drawing room is huge, perfect for receptions, and the ballroom is grand.”

  “I’ve always wanted my own ballroom.”

  The household staff was assembled in the front hall to greet me, the chef beaming broadly in his white mushroom hat, the butler severe in black, the six footmen stalwart and sober in dark blue livery. Five of the maids wore black dresses with crisp white aprons. The sixth, a slender girl with dreamy blue eyes and long copper hair, wore violet-gray silk. Phillipe introduced each servant, and I learned that the blue-eyed girl, Minne, spoke perfect French and was to be my lady’s maid.

  The butler dismissed the servants, and Phillipe showed me through the house, as pleased as a child showing off a new toy. Each room was more spectacular than the next, the ceilings exquisitely molded with patterns picked out in gold leaf, the white walls with gold leaf panels. Magnificent chandeliers dripped with sparkling crystal pendants, and more pendants dangled from golden wall sconces. The rich velvet drapes and the upholstery of the elegant white and gold French furniture were further distinguished by the blue and violet and silver-gray motif that ran through the entire palace. A gracious spiral staircase curved up to the second floor, the bannisters white, the carpet a deep blue. Phillipe led me upstairs and took me to the door of my bedroom.

  “I imagine you’re tired,” he said, “and I must present myself at the palace and report to His Majesty.”

  “When will I meet him?”

  Phillipe hesitated a moment before replying. “The King is—rather shy, particularly with beautiful women. Don’t be too disappointed if you don’t see him right away. It may be several days before he sends for you. I’ll return this evening to discuss arrangements for your performance.”

  “Perhaps you’ll dine with me.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  He smiled that lovely smile again, bowed politely, and left. I went on into the bedroom. Royal blue drapes hung at the windows. The car
pet a pale, pale blue was deep and rich. The graceful white bed had a canopy of pale blue silk and royal blue satin, the counterpane of matching royal blue. Tall French doors stood open, leading out to a semi-circular balcony with a white marble railing. Stepping out onto it, I looked down at the gardens and across the lake to the royal castle.

  I found it hard to believe that only yesterday I had been sitting in a chair at the inn, wondering how I was going to pay for a train ticket. It seemed weeks ago, somehow, and Franz and Wagner were already a part of the past. So much had happened so quickly. Was I really in this small, incredible kingdom, standing on the balcony of my own palace? I felt a curious disorientation, as though I were in the middle of a lovely dream and would awaken at any moment to reality. Sighing, I went back inside and looked around the room as though to determine if it were real or part of the dream.

  I was still in a daze when Klaus, one of the footmen, came in with the first of my bags, and Minne appeared a few minutes later to help me unpack. Seventeen years old, shy, demure, Minne was as efficient as she was pretty, a dreamy-eyed charmer who blushed and lowered her eyes when the strapping and sternly attractive Klaus returned with the rest of the bags. I suspected a downstairs romance was blooming, a suspicion that was confirmed when Klaus left the room and Minne sighed wistfully.

  After I unpacked, I explored the palace more thoroughly, took a leisurely bath and selected my gown for the evening. Although it was still too early to expect Phillipe, I began to dress, putting on a deep rose silk with a provocatively low bodice and off-the-shoulder sleeves. Minne proved herself extremely gifted with hair, arranging my ebony locks in a sculptured roll and affixing a pale white rose above my temple.

  I stood up to examine myself in the mirror.

  “Thank you, Minne,” I said. “You’ve done a marvelous job. You’re a treasure. And I’ve a feeling Klaus thinks so, too.”

  She blushed prettily, lowering her eyes again. I smiled and told her I was going to stroll in the gardens for a while and wouldn’t be needing her any more that evening. Minne curtsied and left, perhaps to search for her handsome footman, and I went downstairs into the gardens. The setting sun spangled the lake with shimmering silver-gold sunbursts, and the pale blue sky was gradually darkening. I strolled down the formal paths, inhaling the fragrance of roses, serenaded by the soft splashing of the fountains.

  It was so beautiful, so serene. Shadows began to lengthen like bolts of dark blue-gray velvet, and a cool breeze drifted over the water, causing leaves to rustle quietly. Across the lake, the sprawling palace was bathed in dark gold for a few moments, and then the sun vanished and it was shrouded in shadows that deepened from gray to hazy purple. Strolling down another path, I thought about the students who had given me such a rousing welcome earlier, and I thought about Phillipe, so young, so polite. But most of all I thought about the shy, enigmatic king who had turned Barivna into such a wonderland of beauty and culture.

  King Karl was forty-six years old, a very private person who eschewed all pomp and ceremony and rarely showed himself in public. He devoted his life to art and architecture and to the university. Although his love for beautiful women was well known, he had never married, not even to produce an heir. I wondered why, and so did most of Europe. His failure to marry was a mystery to all, and there had been a great deal of speculation. Karl’s gentility and generosity were well known, but the man himself remained a mystery.

  As I started back toward the palace I heard a horse cantering up the drive. I wondered who could be calling. It was still early for Phillipe, who in any event would have come by carriage. The horse stopped. I heard a curt, harsh order, then the sound of boots on the steps. As I stepped into the front hall, Otto, the butler, was just coming out of the small front parlor. He seemed disturbed, but when he caught sight of me he straightened his shoulders and resumed his customary, unperturbed manner to inform me that a Captain Heinrich Schroder wished to see me and was waiting in the parlor.

  “Thank you, Otto. Wait a moment and then show him into the drawing room. You may bring brandy a little later on.”

  Otto nodded, and I went on into the sumptuously appointed drawing room. Captain Heinrich Schroder. Why would a military man be calling on me? I had the feeling it was not merely a friendly visit to welcome me to Barivna. Stepping over to one of the windows and pulling back the rich silver-gray drape, I struck a deliberately casual pose, slowly turning around as Otto brought Captain Schroder into the room and announced him.

  “Captain Schroder,” I said politely, giving him a brief nod.

  Schroder clicked his heels together and bowed curtly. Otto left the room, and the captain stood erect, his white helmet with its stiff red crest held under one arm. He stared at me with blue-gray eyes that seemed to smolder with hostility. His light brown hair was clipped very short, his skull visible beneath the fuzz. His nose was large, his mouth wide and full, a cruel mouth designed to curl thinly at the corners. A jagged scar ran from the edge of his right cheekbone down to his jaw—apparently a saber scar, famous as a symbol of Prussian virility.

  “Won’t you be seated, Captain Schroder?” I said in French.

  “I prefer to stand.” He answered in German.

  His voice was deep, a harsh, gutteral rumble that seemed to grate as it rose from his chest. Six feet tall and heavy-set without being stocky, he exuded an aura of coarseness and brutal strength. His black knee boots were highly glossed, and his white breeches fit like a second skin, tightly stretched over long, muscular legs and left no doubt as to his generous physical endowments. His long-sleeved forest green tunic had a tight collar trimmed with gold braid. Gold epaulettes rested on his broad shoulders.

  “I assume this is not a social call,” I remarked, still speaking French.

  “No, it is not a social call,” he said, this time in French. “I am Captain of the Royal Guard. I have come to order you to leave Barivna at once.”

  “Indeed?”

  I looked at him with cool, level eyes, refusing to be intimidated.

  “I don’t like your manner, Captain Schroder, and I certainly don’t like your choice of words. No one orders me to do anything. I was invited to Barivna by King Karl. I rather doubt that he sent you here.”

  Schroder smiled, the wide mouth spreading, curling up at the corners as I knew it would. It was the cruelest smile I had ever seen, calculated to make the blood run cold. No doubt he smiled just such a smile when he ran an enemy through with his saber; or when he raped a young, helpless maiden—activities I felt sure he had indulged in frequently. Schroder was clearly sadistic, a brute who thrived on cruelty.

  “No, Karl did not send me,” he said. “He knows nothing of this call.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “It is my job to look after his safety.”

  “And I present a threat?”

  “Your presence here is an agitation, a dangerous agitation. The students are already unruly and rebellious. We have had to put them down several times already, using harsher measures each time. Your presence in Barivna can only cause more unrest.”

  “I fail to see your reasoning, Captain Schroder.”

  “There was a disturbance in town only this afternoon, a near riot caused by your arrival. The students went wild, shouting, charging your carriage like a band of ruffians, disturbing the peace.”

  “It was a harmless display.”

  “It could have turned into a riot. There could have been serious injuries. We cannot risk another such outbreak.”

  “We?”

  “The Royal Guard. I told you, I am in charge of all military personnel in Barivna. I receive my orders directly from Sturnburg.”

  “And you were ordered to send me away,” I said.

  “Precisely.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time, Captain Schroder. I came here to open King Karl’s new theater, and I’ve no intention of leaving until the King himself asks me to leave.”

  “You are making a mistake, E
lena Lopez.”

  “Am I?”

  “A mistake that could be quite costly.”

  There was menace in his manner and his voice. Those blue-gray eyes looked at me with smoldering hostility so intense that I couldn’t help but feel a tremor of alarm. I could understand his wanting to force me to leave Barivna, but I couldn’t understand that active hostility. Heinrich Schroder was a dangerous man, vicious, sadistic, and he hated me. That had been apparent from the moment he swaggered into the room. But why?

  Otto chose that moment to enter with a crystal decanter of brandy and two glasses on a tray. He set the tray down, straightened up and looked at me for instructions.

  “Thank you, Otto,” I said. “That will be all.”

  Otto left, and I indicated the brandy. Placing his helmet on the table, Schroder took hold of the decanter, uncapped it and poured a glassful. The brandy glass was large, but it looked extremely fragile with those large, brutal fingers curled around it. He lifted it to his lips, tilted his head back and tossed the brandy down in one gulp. He filled the glass again, looking at me with cold calculation now, the smile flickering.

  “You are very obstinate, Madamoiselle.”

  “I don’t like bullies.”

  “You are a fool. I could crush you.”

  “I rather doubt that.”

  “Sturnburg won’t tolerate another of Karl’s whores at this point. He has already spent a fortune redecorating this palace, and we have no doubt that he is prepared to pay lavishly for your services.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Captain Schroder.”

  Schroder tossed down another glass of brandy and set the glass on the tray. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked at me as though I were an insect he contemplated squashing.

  “You are very beautiful,” he remarked. “I can see why Karl is so enamored. If I had the price, I would not mind having you myself, but I am sure I could not afford you.”

  “There’s not enough money in the world,” I assured him. “I suggest you leave now, Captain, before I’m forced to call the footmen and have them throw you out.”