by Reza Ali
“Luckily your love for me is far too strong to be tested by such inane moments.”
“Luckily it is!”
She had no sooner said those words than they were interrupted by the sound of horses trotting towards them. The princess turned to see a large convoy of riders marching to the front entrance of the town hall. Leading the convoy were the banner men holding up emblems of the British Empire, followed by a band of knights riding before a massive wheelhouse, a double-layered carriage of oak and metal pulled by at least twelve horses. The carriage stopped and the knights dismounted and gathered around the door. Six noblemen descended and were hurriedly ushered into the hall.
“That looks like royalty. Does the king ride amongst them?” the princess asked, watching the noblemen entering the hall.
“The king is gravely ill; some say he may not make the change of year. Those are representatives, dukes and duchess and the crown prince.”
“I am glad we do not have such ostentatious displays of wealth when so many people are homeless and starving.” The princess lifted her chin.
“There is a vast difference between their royalty and ours. We have only a small number of our people around the world and they have too many people. All our houses are royalty, whilst their houses band together to support one king.”
“The kind of kingdom that Vaigar Valkray craves, I do not doubt.” Her eyes tightened in slight anger.
“Exactly the kind of kingdom that Valkray desires. That is why he wants to kill us all.”
“He can try to eliminate me and I will show him what a real princess can do.” Her hand touched her thigh, upon which she sheathed a dagger.
“You are a feisty little thing, Princess. Come, let us join the proceedings.” He took her hand and walked her through the large open doors.
Inside the town hall, the walls were draped in fine silk sheets, pleated neatly in golden embroidery all along the sides, each one identical to the other. The tables were immaculately laid out with the same silk sheets covering each one, scented candles burnt tiny flames along the walls and pewter plates and cups and bows of ribbon embellished the tables. A massive podium greeted the guests at the front of the hall. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and baked bread.
The princess was greeted by the searching eyes of the men and women who sauntered past. The women seemed to give her a dressing down, moving their eyes across her from head to heel. The men seemed enamoured by her beauty; she was truly outstanding amongst those around her. She noticed one particular set of eyes that lingered upon her for far too long, almost following her around the hall. Those eyes belonged to one of the nobleman who had arrived in the carriage; it was the youngest one. She paid him little notice and took her seat beside Lord Bradley at their table.
After sitting through countless speeches and watching copious amounts of food being moved back and forth, the princess wished she could take all the leavings back to the homeless people at Old Town; she decided that she had had enough. She excused herself and followed the red carpet to what she thought would be the exit. To her dismay, the carpet trailed up a flight of stairs at the back of the hall. She turned and noticed the large doors through which she had entered at the other end of the hall; she would have to pass every table to make those doors. Dear me! I should have been more observant. She looked once more at the flight of stairs. I might as well just go up this staircase, or return to Uncle. She considered the exasperating speeches she had endured. Up it shall be.
The staircase took her up one level to the second tier of the hall. She heard the low mutter of the hundreds of conversations of the people on this level sitting on tiered balconies looking over the podium. Her desire to join them was as enthusiastic as a trip to the gallows, awaiting the noose. Her eyes caught an ascending spiral stairwell adjacent to the staircase she had just climbed. She didn’t waste another second and, soon, she was perched at the top of a little tower that sat above the town hall. The cold breeze kissed her skin and ruffled her lovely hair. She walked toward the edge of the tower and leant against the steel parapet. The wind was rising and the old wooden buildings creaked all around. A metal signboard had broken free and banged repeatedly again the base of the tower. She was high enough to see the outskirts of Old Town. The swollen moon crept across the velvet sky, casting its silvery light over the towering oak trees in the forest beyond Old Town that was visible from her vantage point. The shaggy oak heads swayed in the wind like ripples across an ocean of silvery white.
A deep voice emanated from behind. “They say the forest is haunted with creatures that thirst for blood.”
She turned to see a tall man, dressed in large black and gold surcoat with thick furs around the edges. His skin was pale and he had cropped ginger hair and a trimmed ginger beard that framed his jawline. She knew instantly that this was no ordinary man.
“Such are tales for wide-eyed little boys. I would hazard a guess, Prince Henry?” She smiled as she narrowed her eyes, although certain she was correct.
“You have identified me, but I cannot even venture to guess who you might be. Who is this exquisite woman who exudes such grace, the sight of her unmans me so? I ask our Lord to cast some light upon this subject. Tell me, My Lord, who is this dazzling goddess whom you have set forth on us? A woman of such beauty could have only been created by your personal hand.” His voice was as smooth as silk and as charming as a fox.
“I can tell that you are used to having women fall at your feet, fawning for your affection. I will have you know that your lord is not my lord and he certainly would not know of my origins. Thank you for the compliment nevertheless.” She looked back at him, smiling, but remained leaning forward on the steel frame.
“I asked my adviser to find out who you were the moment we saw you and he returned with nothing. I will have you know that Mr Cromwell is a very well-informed man of law and faith. So this had me thinking, how could a royal slip through our fingers this way?” The corner of his right eye crinkled as he thought.
“Why do you think I am royalty?” She turned to face him.
“I have been amongst duchesses, baronesses, princesses and queens all my life. I know nobility when I see it. You are highborn; of that there is no doubt in my mind. Which house do you represent?”
“I am not royalty from this country.” She shuffled uncomfortably; this was not a conversation she should be having.
“You have perfect command of our tongue; you cannot be foreign. Where are you from?” He seemed a little vexed by her answer.
“I am just a normal person, neither royalty nor highborn. Forgive me, Prince Henry, but I must take my leave now.” She stepped forward almost tacitly, signalling him to move out of the way of the staircase.
“Please do stay with me for a little longer. I want to know you, to learn who you are, to show you my palace and perhaps the kingdom that I shall soon command. You are so beautiful; I can hardly look away from you.” His spoke with immaculate grace, but his voice hinted at a touch of desperation.
“I have never heard such a compliment before, but there is more to a woman than exterior beauty. Unfortunately, I do have to leave urgently. Forgive me, Prince.”
“Tell me where I can find you; I want to see you again. Tell me your name at least; what is your name?” He had never known a woman who shunned his advances in this manner.
“Evangeline Brooking. You are a crown prince with great power at your fingertips; that is all the information you should need. Farewell, then, Prince Henry.” She brushed past him and began descending the spiral stairway.
“Wait, Lady Evangeline Brooking! I do not want this evening to end this way. At least give me something to remember you by.” The desperation in his voice was far more obvious.
She stopped and slowly turned to face him. “Crown Prince, I have seen so many homeless and starving people, so devoid of all hope their hearts beat empty. Why have you not done something to make their lives less miserable?” she asked, looking dire
ctly into his eyes.
“I am not the king yet, so there is little that I can or could have done. When I am king, I will look into ways to keep them fed and homed.”
“This banquet was held in your honour; the leavings alone will be enough to feed a thousand hungry children. How do you explain that?” She narrowed her eyes as she looked into his.
“This banquet is important to the people. We discuss our plans for parliament and the economic affairs of our land. The people here participate in the discussion. This empowers them to become involved in the running of the country.” He spoke fast and defensively.
“So you are saying that is more important than the starving children and fathers who cannot earn coin to feed them?”
“Yes, it is. This is vital for the administration of our country.”
“You would not have a country without those people. Goodnight, Prince Henry. Now I have given you something to remember.” She turned and continued down the stairwell.
* * *
The long, wild grass had disappeared, replaced by a perfectly manicured garden awash with the sound of happy children playing their games. The wooden structure that made up the large shed, once hidden behind creeping vines and dense shrub, now gleamed with the glossy sheen of perfect restoration. Inside the shed, the floors no longer greeted each step with the croak of a promiscuous frog. Pine wood tables filled the spaces three quarters into the shed, tables that were alive with the clangour of plates and cups and cutlery, and the mutters of hundreds of conversations of people joyously celebrating the birth of a great new hope.
Melissa Wallace calmly patrolled the spaces between tables and the kitchen at the back of the large shed. Serving girls and washerwomen were frantically at work, some running towards Melissa for instruction, others so absorbed in their endeavours they scarcely lifted their heads. Princess Evangeline walked through the tall arched doors, beaming in delight as she watched her dream unfold before her eyes. The crowd of people stood up and cheered as she walked through the spaces between the tables. Every person’s eyes were moist with appreciation as they applauded and cheered the woman who had restored their faith in humanity.
“We did it, Mel; we have filled their lives with happiness and joy.” The princess beamed.
“You did it, Princess Eve. You gave me new life and put this dream in motion. I am so honoured to be here with you.” Melissa’s wide smile reflected her inability to contain her excitement.
“Witnessing their joy and appreciation is more than I could have ever asked for. I feel the happiest I have ever felt in my whole life. I am so grateful that you are here with me. I love you, Mel.” She put her arms around Melissa and embraced her warmly.
“I love you, Princess. You are the shining star that took away the darkness in my world,” she whispered as her arms tightened around the princess.
Suddenly, they heard the sound of many horses marching towards them. Princess Eve hurried past the large arched doors and into the garden outside, with Melissa in tow. A large convoy rode directly towards them. Four banner men led the precession, holding up flags emblazoned with the symbol of the British Empire. Behind them followed the distinctive knights of the King’s Guard, recognisable by their elaborate white armour, sandwiching two men on horseback riding in the middle. One of the men donned a large gold and black surcoat with furs along the edges. It didn’t take the princess long to recognise who he was. The horses entered the gate and gathered around the man wearing the gold and black surcoat. He dismounted and walked towards the princess. She stepped forward to stand before him, then lowered her knees in a graceful bow. He smiled and walked up to her.
“Blessing of the empire, Lady Evangeline Brooking. You set me a challenge and I hope I have impressed you.”
“How in all realms did you find me? Yes, I am suitably impressed, Crown Prince.” Her smile was a welcome gift for the prince.
“After our brief exchange, your question disturbed me greatly. I asked my counsel to look at ways to help the homeless and starving peasants. Then one counsellor returned with news of a large sanctuary for the hungry and homeless that opened its doors in Old Town. Without another question, I ordered a convoy to accompany me here immediately. So here I am, standing before the most beautiful woman in all of my kingdoms and every other kingdom, I confidently surmise.”
“Thank you, Prince Henry; you do flatter me. Would you like to see our humble establishment?” She smiled again, this time invitingly.
“It would be an honour, My Lady.” He tried to move his eyes off her, but it proved far too difficult.
They walked through the large arched doors and entered the sanctuary. The people inside rose to their feet and cheered as the prince walked along the pathway past the tables. The place housed more than one thousand people, all of them happy and appreciative of their new home. The prince looked around at the faces of each individual. Most were gaunt faces, scrawny, with shrivelled skin and listless hair, and lacking in every component of good nutrition. He imagined what kind of hardship they might have endured before finding their home in this wonderful haven. The sight of each of them told him many sad tales, but all with a few common themes: hunger, starvation, disease and sickness.
His last exchange with the princess, in the large tower over the city hall, had vexed him greatly. Now that he stood before the very subjects of her argument, he understood the reality of what she spoke, almost too ghastly for a royal to acknowledge. It was far easier to pretend that all of this was some abstract idea argued by people with a severe case of dementia. That was what he had been told by his counsellors whenever the subject of poverty arose. It was always swiftly dismissed and set aside for a later investigation; an investigation that would never materialise. However, on this day, he saw it for himself. His head lowered and he felt ashamed that he had not done something before. He looked at the princess with eyes of great admiration, but this time not just for the extraordinary beauty she exuded, but also for the gigantic heart she carried. She is an angel sent by our Lord to open noble eyes to the plight of our less fortunate people.
“My Lady, forgive my ignorance at our last meeting. I knew nothing of this level of suffering. You are an angel sent by our Lord to open my eyes to this tragedy of our time.” His head was bowed and the sincerity in his words was noticed.
“My Prince, do not see the tragedy, but rather marvel at the triumph of restoring wonderful hope into all these hearts. I am not an angel; I am a person who is learning the reward commensurate with the charity in one’s heart. I have never felt more fulfilled than I am when I see the joy on their faces and realise that it is as a result of our effort to make a difference.” She felt overwhelmed as she spoke, her eyes moistening in the corners.
“I will pledge a sum of fifty thousand gold coins to support the extraordinary efforts at this sanctuary. Thereafter, I shall determine an ongoing contribution. The empire’s short-sightedness on matters of poverty must be remedied.” He spoke in a loud, authoritative voice, addressing all who were in attendance.
His words were greeted with raucous applause and cheers. Then he heard them sing in chorus something that made his heart well with pride.
“Long live King Henry VIII. Long live the king!” All of the people shouted and cheered happily.
“Do you see it, Crown Prince? These are the real people of your country. Hear them in chorus singing you name. They do it without pretention; they do it because they love you. It is the true power of kindness.” She smiled that beautiful smile that made him feel weak at his knees.
If he was infatuated with her beauty at their last meeting, at this moment, he was in love with her; in love with all of her, every part of this seemingly perfect woman.
“Please, My Lady, be my partner at the royal ball. You will honour me greatly. Please, I ask just this; please do not refuse me.” His eyes were wide and his plea sincere.
“Forgive me, My Prince, but I cannot do that. You must understand that I am different, not like oth
er women. I do not know how to explain this to you.” For the first time, she felt a connection to him; it was difficult to refuse his request.
“There is no need for you to explain. I know you are different. There is not another woman like you in all of our land. I think of you every day, every hour. Please, My Lady, give me one chance; do not break a prince’s heart on the day you gave him hope.” A tear welled in his eye and she sensed that her rejection had hurt him deeply.
She wanted to agree. She felt something stirring inside; the beginning of a desire. This prince had somehow broken through her resolute defence, but she could not allow such a thing. She was not like him; he did not know what she really was. I need to be strong. What he seeks, he cannot find in this heart.
“Please do not get me wrong; I do not delight in seeing you sad. In fact, your smile warms my heart, Crown Prince. I cannot accept the invitation. Please do not make this difficult for us both.” She bowed her head as she spoke.
He could see regret in her eyes. It was all the encouragement he needed. “Very well, then, but I insist that you accompany me for dinner on the morrow. It will be only you and I; this, I promise you. You cannot refuse me now; I know you would not.”
“As long as it is only you and I, I shall consent. Please do not have any grand ideas of romance; I shall not indulge such intention.” Her voice reflected a slight hesitancy.
“I may beg to differ, but such is an argument for a day still forthcoming. I shall be here at the second hour of six. I will come by carriage and we shall ride somewhere that shall be named when you see me again.” He smiled excitedly, noticing her hesitant nod.
* * *
The door to Lord Bradley’s chamber was opened by Mr Vandal, who ushered the princess inside. Lords Bradley and Cunningham were in conversation as she approached them. The conversation appeared heated, with Lord Cunningham seething, gesturing and stamping his feet in anger. The sight of her sent him into a fit of rage.