by Finley Aaron
We were getting quite close to the castle by that time (we had started from nearby, so it wasn’t a long trip). The carriages pulled up to the wide marble stairs in flocks of three, stopping to let out their passengers before driving on. There were some men in attendance, but the majority of the guests were young women.
Ladies in ball gowns streamed up the stairs, looking, from a distance, like so many flower petals blown by the wind.
Our carriage reached the steps and Mirage came around, opening the door just as a good footman should. Ella smiled at her horse-turned-footman as she disembarked.
The footman stamped and shook his head.
Ella giggled and headed up, following the women ahead of her.
From the bottom of the steps, we could not see what waited for us above. It wasn’t until we were nearly to the top of the steps that we saw the receiving line waiting for us.
I suppose it only made sense, if King Henry was, indeed, trying to connect with his people and raise their opinion of him, that he’d take the time to greet them each as they arrived. He was flanked on either side by his daughters, his brother, and his nephew.
Henry was nowhere to be seen, but Raedwald—or Richard, as of course he would be known in this setting—stood last in the receiving line, looking deceptively handsome, though I thought his eyes still looked a bit red from the soot.
Ella contained her reaction when she saw the line. She blinked once and drew in a sharp breath, but her feet hardly faltered, and she soldiered forward.
What choice did she have?
A steward stood ahead of the line, taking each girl’s invitation and checking it over, welcoming her, and passing the invitation to a herald, who cried out the name or names of each party as they arrived.
Ella handed her invitation to the steward, who inspected it only briefly before passing it along to the herald.
The herald called out in a strong voice, “Lady Ella of Caprese.”
Richard turned his head, and I heard gasps echoing up from the stairs below.
Madame Augusta and her daughters had arrived.
Ella simply curtsied before the king as the others ahead of her had done. She bobbed likewise before the princesses, and hurried to curtsy before Richard the third and Richard the fourth.
As she’d predicted, there was little Richard could do at that moment, not with everyone watching, but his steely eyes never left her as she proceeded toward the ballroom.
The level where we stood was crowned with high-arched ceilings supported by rows of columns. Each column was topped by tiers of candles; their golden light reflected against the pale marble of the columns, and the polished pink quartz of the floor. Tables of food and drinks were nestled between these, and many ladies paused to look over the food offerings, which were presented on elaborately arranged platters, and in great sparkling vats.
Ella continued on in search of Henry. She had to find him before Richard found an excuse to step away from the receiving line.
Just past the tables was another wide staircase, this one leading downward.
She paused at the top and looked down. Couples swirled on the dance floor below, while a large orchestra filled a platform in the distance, music resounding against the marble walls, infusing the vast room with sweet melodies, and spilling over through the wide archways into the evening air.
Henry spotted her immediately, and came bounding up the stairs two at a time to greet her.
“I heard them call your name,” he told her with a grin, taking her hand and bowing as she curtsied before him. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. You look—” he shook his head, at a loss for words. “So elegant. Do you care to dance?”
“Yes, please,” Ella agreed as Henry led her down the stairs. “Keep me away from Richard.”
“Has he been a problem already?”
“He paid a visit to Caprese this morning. I’m not entirely sure what his intentions were, but he said something about having me wedded and bedded, and that he hoped you’d challenge him to a duel.”
Henry’s eyes went wide, and then his jaw hardened. “So that’s why he was missing most of the day, and was in such a jolly mood at breakfast.”
They reached the dance floor, and Henry held out his hands, drawing her into position. They began to dance, as easily and familiarly as though they’d danced together all their lives, and not just that one evening in Paris.
Ella had so much to tell Henry, she couldn’t wait for him to elaborate on Richard’s odd behavior. “My step-mother may have told you I’m a servant, but she was lying.”
“I know,” Henry assured her. “Did she tell you of my visit?”
“Only after I found my helmet among her things.”
“I didn’t know how else to reach you,” Henry admitted. “She refused to let me in, and wasn’t even sure you were anywhere around, and I had to get back to Charmont for a meeting that evening. But I stopped in your village on my way home, and checked the records at the church. Your father and mother are Robert, and the late Eleanor, of Caprese.”
“Yes.”
“Your father married Madame Augusta De Bouchard after your mother died. Do you know where Madame Augusta hailed from before she married Master De Bouchard?”
“It was somewhere near Paris, I believe.”
“Nordheim.”
“Nordheim? As in, Raedwald of Nordheim?”
“Richard took the name from his mother’s side. His mother and Augusta are sisters.”
“That’s why he called her Aunt Augusta,” Ella realized aloud as the song changed and they seamlessly began another dance.
Ella remembered that she had far more important things to discuss than Richard’s relatives. “I need your help. My brother Bertie has been imprisoned in Devin, in the dungeon of the old Roman fortress there.”
Pain flashed in Henry’s eyes. “Devin? On what charges?”
“Illegal importation of goods. They’ve made it illegal for merchants to pass through their country, and they’re imprisoning those who attempt to do so. My father and brother tried to retrieve the carts of goods that had been impounded, but they were stopped, and Bertie imprisoned.”
“And your father?” Henry asked, his face pale in expectation.
“I’m told he was killed,” Ella admitted, trying to keep her emotions contained, though her lower jaw trembled, and her voice cracked. Somehow she kept her feet moving in time with the song.
Henry closed his eyes for a moment. Regret and sorrow passed visibly over his features. “I’m sorry. So sorry. If I’d had my way, those laws would have been stopped before they ever took effect.”
“I know you’re on my side. That’s why I came here tonight, to talk to you. I intend to do whatever I can to free my brother from that prison. I will go there personally—”
“Ella, you can’t. It’s far too dangerous.”
“My brother is there. He’s been there for days and days, maybe even weeks. I can’t leave him there.”
“I agree, but listen—this is important. I learned something. After I spoke with you that day in my father’s office, I looked into what you’d said about the taxes. They haven’t been raised at all, and our tax offices haven’t gotten any increased funds.”
“But we paid more—”
“I know you did, and so has everyone else. It’s not coming from this level, though. The local tax offices were told the rate had doubled, and they collected those monies. But the funds were intercepted, and only the true amount was paid to the government. The rest was diverted to a separate fund.”
“Where’s it going?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to find out, but I’ve got to be very careful, because I suspect Richard is behind it all, though of course he’s covered his tracks and hid everything that might connect him to it.”
“Richard,” Ella repeated, shuddering. “What’s he doing with it?”
“So far, nothing. It’s an enormous amount, equal to our en
tire annual budget, nearly. It’s enough to fund a war—a big war. That’s the only thing I can think he might be up to.”
“That’s so odd,” Ella mused, focusing for a moment on her feet as the music changed again, this time to a slower tune.
“What is? That my uncle might want to start a war?”
“No, it’s something Bertie said before they left to attempt to get our horses and carts of goods back. He said ‘Trade routes equal power. Those who control the trade routes have power.’”
“Control them? They’re trying to shut them down. By law, they’re not trade routes anymore, just roads for travelers, not goods.”
“Yes, but think about the lands we’re talking about. Devin, where my brother is imprisoned. That city has changed hands countless times over the years. It’s hotly contested territory. When I was a little girl traveling with my father, the city was European, and the rulers encouraged trade to Europe, partly because it was good for their economy, but also because they liked us.”
“And they no longer like us?”
“They may no longer have a choice. It’s like a game we used to play at the junior tournaments when I was a kid. Tug-o-war. Do you know it?”
“The game with the rope, and two teams each trying to pull the other in their direction?”
“And when you topple the other side across the center line, onto your side, you win.”
“So you think Devin wants to topple us?”
“No, Devin is the rope. The Saracens want to topple us, and they’re using Devin and the trade routes to pull us over.”
“That makes sense. That makes far too much sense. Why didn’t I see it sooner?”
“Because you’ve been trying to solve the riddle from this end, and it looks like a completely different problem from here,” Ella admitted. “This bit with your uncle embezzling enough money to fund a war…what do you suppose he’s up to?”
The song changed again, and the pair danced to the faster music. Henry suggested, “It could be that he’s realized what the Saracens are plotting, and he wants to come out as the hero, so he’s preparing to fund a war in our defense.”
“But why lie to your father about how bad the trade problems are, then? Why not work with him?”
“He wants to make my father look like an inept ruler, so the people will want to crown him instead.”
“But your father commands the military. Have these diverted funds gone to the military?”
“No. I’d have seen them on the reports if they had. They’re nowhere to be found.”
“Then I doubt his war is meant to defend us.”
“But you do agree he wants to start a war?”
“Yes. But who will be fighting whom?” Ella bit her lip thoughtfully, then shook her head. “I don’t believe he’s fighting on the side of Charmont.”
Henry looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. But do you know what I have concluded? I’m not going to learn anything more by wasting my time at tournaments or sitting around here at the castle. I need to go to Devin myself.”
“But your father forbade it.”
Henry gave her a tight-lipped smile that suggested he was plotting something. “My father has insisted for some time that I ought to take seriously the task of seeking a bride. Of late, his concerns over the things he can’t control have spilled over into trying to control what little he can—namely, me. He’d suggested this ball two years ago, when I turned eighteen. I told him no then and ever since. But seeing that I wanted something very badly—to travel east and sort out the trade embargo issues; and he wants something badly—for me to choose a bride, I realized we could both get what we wanted if we were willing to make a deal.”
Somewhere in the midst of Henry’s speech, the music had changed again, and Ella had a difficult time getting her feet to follow the rhythm. The task was made all the more difficult because she suddenly found herself breathing rapidly, with her heart fluttering inside her like a hummingbird’s wings, and her thoughts clamoring with opposing points of possibility and disbelief.
“What are you saying?” Ella whispered.
“I realize you didn’t arrive until after the herald had announced the terms of the dance. I am free to dance with any eligible lady I care to. If I dance with a woman once or twice, it means nothing. If I dance three dances, it indicates that I am particularly interested in that lady. And if I dance with a woman for five dances, it means I have chosen the woman I wish to make my bride.”
As Henry explained this, Ella tried to recall just how many times the music had changed.
Her thoughts were a blur. “Which dance are we on?” she asked.
“When this song is over, we will have completed five dances.” Henry studied her face as he spoke. “I love you. No other woman I’ve ever met can compare with you. There is no greater happiness I could ever imagine than to have you by my side always. Will you be my bride?”
The music stopped.
It seemed the entire orchestra had realized what was at stake, and had been keeping track of Henry and Ella’s dances. They did not play another song. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Ella’s first instinct was to agree, but her throat had gone dry, and she still felt breathless, which gave her pause. It was during that pause that she realized that Henry had done a very wise thing by holding what he wanted up against what his father wanted, to make a deal that would ensure they both got what they wanted.
“If,” she started, forcing her voice to work in spite of her racing heart and shaky throat. “If we can free my brother. I don’t even care about the carts of goods, though I’d like those home, too, if we can. And the horses. If they’re alive, I want to bring back our horses. But my brother. If we can free him, I will marry you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Henry smiled hesitantly. “I was hoping for a more enthusiastic answer.”
“I cannot live in a palace while my brother is chained in a prison. I love you, Henry. I always have, but those are my terms. If you’d like, you may discuss them with your father.” Ella gave him a pointed look.
Henry raised an eyebrow of realization, and then smiled a conspiratorial smile. “Indeed, we should bring your terms to my father. Seeing that he is eager to see me wed, and in consideration of the fact that you are the only girl I could ever marry, it’s only sensible that he should approve me to travel in order to meet your terms.”
Ella smiled back, delighted that Henry had understood her point, and had not bristled at her demands.
“Now,” Henry continued, his eyes darting to the crowd all around them, who stood motionless, as though waiting for some signal from the couple, “before we leave the dance floor, it would be in good taste for us to…” he hesitated, searching for the right word.
“Why don’t you kiss me?” Ella suggested.
“You wouldn’t mind? I thought perhaps our last kiss was rather abrupt, and I feared I hadn’t asked properly.”
“Oh, I liked it very much.”
Henry did not need any further encouragement. He still had one hand at Ella’s waist. With the other, he ran one finger along the curve of her chin. This was necessary for him to find her lips, since he closed his eyes and went forward entirely by feel.
Ella had wondered, since their first kiss, if it was as marvelous as she remembered, or if, perhaps, her memory of it was influenced by her feelings for Henry. This time, however, she tried to be more objective. Still, she found the kiss to be entirely delightful, so that when Henry pulled away, she wished he wouldn’t.
“Let’s talk to my father,” Henry said.
That brought Ella back to the matter at hand. She couldn’t stand around kissing Henry at the ball all night. She had a brother to save.
As Henry took Ella’s hand, a cheer went up from the crowd all around them. For the first time, Ella looked at those who were assembled, watching them. She did not recognized many people, although she saw Raedwald, who was not cheering, but neither did he look pa
rticularly upset.
If anything, he appeared the slightest bit pleased, as though something had gone his way.
Ella couldn’t think Raedwald would find anything satisfying about the kiss she’d shared with Henry, unless he had some alternate plan whose pieces had just fallen into place.
She made a note to mention what she’d seen to Henry.
There wasn’t time to bring it up just then. They crossed the floor directly to the king, who was beaming at them as they approached. He seemed entirely satisfied with his son’s choice.
Ella curtsied low before King Henry, who then took her hand and kissed it.
“Lady Ella of Caprese, is it?” King Henry asked. He’d either been paying very close attention, or, more likely, he’d assigned people to keep track of all the guests and inform him of names whenever one became relevant. Either way, it saved his guests from the trouble of introducing themselves while standing, awed, before the king.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ella curtsied again, not quite as dramatically this time.
“Lovely, lovely girl,” King Henry said in an approving tone, to no one in particular.
“Yes, she is, Father,” Henry agreed. “Far lovelier even than her features, is her heart, which is steadfast in support of our crown.”
“That’s good. She’s agreed to marry you, then, hasn’t she?”
Henry opened his mouth, but seemed stuck on exactly what to say.
Ella spoke for him. “On one condition.”
“One condition?” The king was taken quite aback. It clearly had not occurred to him that any woman, especially one who was only noble, and not royal, would have any reservations about taking his son for a husband.
“Yes, Father,” Henry acknowledged. “Perhaps we should step into another room?”
“Perhaps we should,” the king agreed.
King Henry led the way to a nearby room. Several guards flanked him, two on either side, with more trailing behind. They shooed the guests from the room and closed the doors, standing guard outside while the king and prince and Ella spoke in privacy inside.
“What is this about conditions?” The king asked once the doors were finally closed, and they could not be overheard. “What do you want? A payment? Power? Title? What is it? If you marry him, you’ll be a princess first, and then Queen, with all the power and money that goes with it. There’s not much more to ask for than that.”