“Go,” he cried over his shoulder. “Go. You will be avenged.”
Stricken with sudden fear, Ariana stumbled away.
Only once did she look back to see Lorenc already on his horse staring after her.
He gave one salute and was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lulé, keeping watch, had whistled to warn Ariana and Lorenc that the Prince and his retinue had returned.
Ariana paled.
“Why has he returned earlier than expected and in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t know,” replied Lulé. “But he had better not discover we are not where we should be! How, though, shall we get back in without being seen?”
She paused thinking and then snapped her fingers.
“Our exploration of The Castle yesterday was very useful. Remember that unlocked door in the cellar?”
“The one that led up to the wood yard?”
“That’s it,” nodded Lulé. “We should be able to get in that way unseen. Let’s go!”
They set off keeping in the shadow of the trees.
In The Castle the large window of the dining room was lit. Pausing for a moment Ariana and Lulé saw shapes moving inside. The Prince had ordered refreshments for himself and his men.
As they watched a figure appeared at the window and threw it open. It was the Prince, clearly visible in the moonlight.
He placed a foot on the sill and, elbow on his knee, lit up what looked to be a cigar. The glow resembled the watchful red eye of an animal in the dark.
Ariana feasted her eyes on his figure, imagining for a moment that she was seeing Lorenc, although it was not him and could never be him!
“Come on,” urged Lulé. “But be careful.”
They were not careful enough. Some rustle of the undergrowth in the still night alerted the Prince.
He reached for his belt and the next moment a shot rang out, a bullet cracking open the bark of a nearby tree.
“Did you hit it?” someone called from inside.
“Thanks to that putrid wine in Glinica, I missed,” replied the Prince. “I think it was a fox.”
He moved away as Lulé and Ariana hurried on.
The cellar door was luckily still unlocked. It was silent as a tomb, but, when they reached the ground floor, they heard a mumble of voices from the dining room.
Mounting the stairs quietly, Ariana and Lulé made it safely to their adjoining rooms.
It was only when Ariana was at last in her bed that she was at liberty to dwell on the meeting with Lorenc in the wood. She wondered at her own lack of decorum and how she had flown to him and flung herself into his arms.
He could be in no doubt as to her feelings for him. On the other hand his arms had been wide open for her in welcome. He had not hid his passionate desire for her, although she still half-feared that it might merely be the desire to possess what belonged to his enemy.
At the very least she could rest assured that he was not romantically involved with either Lulé or Bonnie.
But there had been other women in his past, as he had admitted. Ariana’s body twisted with jealousy as she wondered who they might have been. Lulé was not a lover now, but perhaps had she been once!
This thought so tormented her that she sprang from her bed and ran into the adjoining room, where she found Lulé lying awake in her bed.
“Do you love Lorenc?” she demanded without any pretence of tact.
Lulé’s eyes glistened in the darkness.
“I love him because he is so brave and because he defends the people against their enemies. But my heart is with another. With – Ilir. And his is with me. Now go back to bed and sleep.”
Ariana returned to her bed, but found that she was not satisfied at Lulé’s answer. Ilir? She had never seen the gypsy show the remotest interest in him.
She fell asleep with exhaustion.
*
When she woke up, a slither of dawn light showed through a chink in the curtains and Bujar stood by her bed.
“You are wanted below now,” said Bujar. “Dress quickly and come.”
Lulé was already astir and she helped Ariana into a dress of light blue muslin and brushed her hair.
The two women’s eyes met conspiratorially in the mirror although neither spoke.
“Don’t keep the Prince waiting,” Bujar urged.
At last Ariana descended the stairway, Bujar on her heels. The housekeeper led her to the dining room, where it was obvious that the Prince and his retinue had passed the night carousing.
He stood leaning on the edge of the table, his arms folded, watching Ariana approach. She noticed uneasily that his whip lay beside him and she averted her eyes.
“You have some explaining to do, Mistress,” began the Prince in soft but dangerous tones.
“How have I – offended?” Ariana asked quietly.
The Prince leaned forward threateningly.
“By lying through your pretty teeth! The coachman was very forthcoming. I know all about the abduction of yourself and your maid. I now know when it happened and surmise that between then and your arrival here, you spent many weeks in the mountains with your abductors. So not only have you persistently misled me, I now find that I cannot even be sure you are still a maiden!”
At this Ariana reddened and shot back at him,
“But you can be sure that the brigands behaved like
perfect gentleman.”
The Prince then grasped the handle of the whip and slammed it hard upon the table.
“Then why,” he roared, “did you feel the need to hide what had happened? Think carefully before you reply or you will feel my wrath unleashed.”
There was no need to wonder what he meant by that since he still held the whip in his hand.
Ariana steadied herself, knowing that she must now tell as much of the truth as she could.
“I was forced – to keep silent,” she said. “Although the brigands released me, they kept my maid, Bonnie, as a hostage. They said they would kill her if – if I revealed the truth. Since I knew you would search for their hideaway once you knew what had happened and – since that search would most probably result in the death of Bonnie, I felt it necessary to – hide the truth.”
The Prince’s fingers now turned white where they gripped the handle of the whip.
“Why did the brigands let you go?”
Ariana had to tread cautiously here.
“I-I don’t know,” she said eventually.
The Prince’s lips curled.
“I will now tell you why. They discovered that you were on your way to Dukka when they captured you. They decided that you were of more use to them in this Castle than in their clutches, otherwise why did they not demand a ransom? They then planned to have the gypsy contact you whenever possible and discover what she could from you of my habits and the defences of Dukka. Which, of course, is precisely what she did at the Glinica Fair.”
Ariana felt a tremor of terror as she considered how that very gypsy was now sleeping beneath Dukka’s roof. What would the Prince do if he discovered that?
The Prince was frowning at some other thought.
“I have heard that the leader of the brigands is a character of great charisma,” he said. “I know his name is Lorenc, the name you called out at the river, the name you later told me was that of a lost love. I believe now that you met this Lorenc in the mountains and perhaps pledged your troth to him!”
Ariana drew in a deep breath. This the Prince must not believe.
“No!” she protested with as much conviction as she could assume. “I called his name because I thought I saw him by the river that day. I could not tell you the truth about him when you asked for the same reason I could not tell you about the abduction for the safety of my maid.”
The Prince’s lips parted in an almost animal snarl.
“Your maid’s safety is the least of my concerns. I will get together a search party and we will flush out these
brigands from their hiding place. And you will help.”
“I?” Ariana answered him in alarm. “How?”
The Prince did not answer her at once.
“Tell me,” he said in a low voice. “What does this Lorenc look like?”
Ariana swallowed.
What else had he discovered from the coachman?
She wracked her brains and recalled that Lorenc had not been present at the abduction. So the coachman would have no idea of the resemblance between the Chief Brigand and Prince Stefan.
“He is a – rough fellow,” she said, “with a – black beard and a hooked nose.”
The Prince raised his head to peruse her. She held his gaze, trying not to blink.
He seemed to accept her description for he turned with a sneer to Bujar,
“We’ll trim his beard before we hang him!”
A wave of despair flowed through Ariana as she contemplated the appalling image of Lorenc at the end of a rope. This reminded her of the Prince’s revelation that she was to help him flush out the brigands.
“How – will you find him?” she ventured to ask.
“How? Why, Ariana, it is you who will lead us to his hideaway. You rode from there and I am sure that you will find your way back.”
Ariana paled as the Prince continued,
“But first, my sweet, I must be sure of your loyalty and the very best way of ensuring that, I have decided, is to make you my wife as soon as possible. So our little trip to the mountains will be postponed until we are wed.”
“W-wed?” repeated Ariana hopelessly.
“In two days’ time,” the Prince informed her. “I will send for the services of a Priest from Glinica.”
Feeling Bujar’s watchful eye on her, Ariana quelled all expression of resistance.
One thought consoled her – this postponement gave just time enough to send a warning to Lorenc to move his camp and the Prince could not guess that she had a means of accomplishing this in Lulé.
Dismissed by Prince Stefan, Ariana then hurried to inform Lulé of what had happened, reserving to herself the horror she felt at the idea of the marriage.
Lulé agreed that it was best for her to leave for the mountains at once. It was a long way to the camp, but she must go there and back in time for the Wedding.
It would be expected that she helped her Mistress with the preparations.
Meanwhile Ariana should explain away her lady’s maid’s absence from duties by claiming that she was sick and ensconced in her room.
The horse that Ariana had ridden from the camp to Dukka was at grass in a pasture out of sight of The Castle and the two women with the excuse of wishing to pick wild flowers made their way there unhindered.
Finding the horse, Lulé then mounted bareback and leaned down to lay a hand against Ariana’s cheek.
“To think that you must be that monster’s wife,” she said sadly.
“I will gladly fulfil – my obligations to the Prince,” replied Ariana stoutly, too proud to let Lulé know the full extent of her misery.
Lulé started back with surprise.
“Yet still you wish to save the Prince’s enemy?” she remarked through narrowed eyes.
“Lorenc is not my enemy. I don’t wish to see his blood spilled.”
Blinking back tears she bade Lulé adieu.
“Go and God speed,” she whispered.
Lulé set off. Ariana watched until rider and horse had galloped out of sight.
She waited until she was sure that no one might see her return without her maid and trudged back in the rain.
Once in the safety of her room she locked the door behind her and threw herself weeping onto the bed.
Never had she felt so utterly alone in the world.
*
The rain served its purpose as later that day Ariana was able to inform Bujar that ‘Zhenka’ had fallen ill.
She, Ariana, wished to look after Zhenka herself and to that end ordered food to be sent up to her room.
In the evening Bujar arrived to enquire after the invalid. The way in which her gaze wandered again and again to the door of the maid’s room made Ariana worry that the housekeeper was suspicious. But Bujar went away when Ariana assured her that all Zhenka desired was rest.
The rain continued to fall all night and kept Ariana awake, prey to those fearful thoughts that arise at night.
The vision of herself as a bride and of that moment before the Priest when she must promise to love, honour and obey was a torment.
Love? How could she promise to love where she loathed? And how could she promise to honour where she despised? The only pledge she might make without qualm was to obey.
How could she not obey when her husband always had that whip to hand? When his character was such that he would not hesitate to beat her for the smallest reason and he even appeared to enjoy the idea of whipping her.
All that could fortify her against utter despair was the knowledge that this wedding, this ultimate sacrifice of her personal happiness, was now in order to save the man she adored.
For a moment she allowed herself the indulgence of imagining that it was Lorenc who would be standing beside her on that fateful day. It was Lorenc she would promise to love, honour and obey. It was Lorenc who would sweep her up into his arms and carry her to that bliss of which she had only had a taste.
Only a taste and yet it had awakened in her a fever that she had never dreamt existed.
It was no doubt the same passion that had led her mother to defy her family and marry a penniless painter. A passion that without doubt Uncle Konstantin had never felt.
Lorenc! She would die with his name engraved on her heart, she was certain. No embrace of Prince Stefan’s could ever make her forget the arms and the sublime kiss of the King of the Brigands.
How could she forget him when his mirror image would lie beside her every night, his mirror image might possess her body, though never, never her secret being.
Ariana turned her face to the pillow, trembling with utter horror as she thought of the coming nights in Prince Stefan’s bed. She who had known so little of desire when she had left her uncle’s house, but now she knew enough to dread its absence.
Within Lorenc’s arms her blood had turned to fire. Within Stefan’s it would turn to ice.
With Lorenc her heart was a lark that soared into the spring air. With Stefan it was a captured finch lying motionless in its cage.
At last she fell into a fitful sleep only to start as a roll of thunder rent the air.
She thought of poor Lulé riding through this storm. Lulé had not taken the road that Ariana had taken to get to Dukka, but a speedier one through rough terrain.
Having delivered her message she planned to turn right around and ride back. With luck she would arrive at The Castle after nightfall and enter by the wood yard door.
There would then be only one day before Ariana’s Wedding.
All this seemed simple enough, but anything could go wrong, thought Ariana. Supposing Lorenc was not at the camp? Would Ilir take charge and move camp and if so, how would word be sent to Lorenc?
She frowned as she recalled Lulé’s admission that it was Ilir who she loved. She still could not believe it and then suddenly she remembered why.
It was Ilir who had tried to seduce her the night of the gypsy Weddings. Was it likely that he would do that when his heart was with Lulé, as the gypsy had asserted?
If not Ilir, then who? Was it Lorenc after all?
Ariana tried to shake off the thought. Since she was now to marry the Prince, as had been her fate all along, what did it matter whom Lorenc took to his bed? Yet the thought of Lulé’s raven hair splayed out on a pillow while Lorenc bent to kiss her sent a spasm of jealousy through Ariana’s limbs.
Another crack of thunder, closer now, returned her to the present. Would the storm stop Lulé reaching the camp in time? Suppose she was struck by lightning?
Ariana sprang from her bed and began to
pace the room. Her mind was torturing her!
Why, why would dawn not come? Nothing seemed as bad by daylight, surely?
But, when at last the dawn arrived, it brought with it other concerns.
For one, she learned that the Prince had departed early for Glinica to visit the Priest and return at dusk.
Ariana hoped that Lulé would not take it into her head to approach The Castle on her return via the drive as there was every chance the Prince might encounter her.
For another, Bujar seemed even more determined this morning to visit the sick Zhenka.
She needed to determine whether the maid would have to be replaced for the Wedding or Ariana would have no one to help her on the big day.
For Bujar declared with unmistakable conceit that she herself was to be a witness and could not at the same time be expected to serve as lady’s maid to the bride.
Ariana might have marvelled more at this elevation of the housekeeper were she not summoning all her wits to keep the woman at bay.
She then reminded Bujar that Zhenka had expressly requested not to be disturbed. She had taken a concoction of herbs and this would have her on her feet the next day.
Bujar pursed her lips, but did not pursue the matter.
“Be it on your head,” was all she said to Ariana. “You are the one who will be struggling into your wedding gown without any help.”
The question of the gown was not one that Ariana had considered and wondered where it would come from.
This was soon answered.
Later Bujar came to her chamber followed by two servants carrying a large trunk.
The trunk when opened exuded a scent of pressed lavender. Even Ariana exclaimed as the items within were withdrawn. Elbow length gloves, a silver tiara, an ivory veil festooned with roses and then the dress.
She gasped in wonder. It was of ivory silk upon which were sewn hundreds of diamonds.
“It was the wedding gown of Princess Marieki, the Prince’s mother,” explained Bujar.
Ariana was startled to see that the housekeeper’s eyes were now moist.
“You knew her?” she asked.
“I knew the Prince, her husband, better.”
In a flash Ariana understood as Bujar’s expression revealed all. She had been the mistress of the late Prince. This explained her hold over his son, Prince Stefan. After the death of Stefan’s mother, Bujar had held a special role in the Dukka household!
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