Bride to a Brigand

by Barbara Cartland

  ‘That must never happen,’ she told herself, but she was not certain how she could prevent it.

  After an hour of hard riding they had reached the foot of the Bela Mountain, which was the nearest to the Capital. It was quite the most spectacular in the range that provided a natural barrier from their neighbours and was a formidable protection for Zokāla.

  Built amongst the grey rocks at the foot of the mountain there were, Ileana knew, a number of small cottages, inhabited by the men who climbed the heights above them, both as a living and because it was something they enjoyed.

  They were strong, magnificent to look at and so well versed in their profession that it was very rare for a climber to injure himself or to fail to rescue either a human being or an animal in distress.

  Bela was, however, not an easy mountain.

  In many places its stone was smooth without any chance of a foothold and it rose proudly from the plain as a result of volcanic activity that had taken place many centuries before.

  When Ileana had climbed it, it had been with Olav’s help and it was to him that she now intended to look for information.

  He was the oldest and most experienced of the climbers and respected by everybody in the country.

  When they reached his small white cottage with its pointed roof of black slates, Captain Heviz dismounted and knocked on his door.

  It was opened by Olav’s wife, who curtsied respectfully when she saw it was the Princess and without waiting hurried back into the cottage shouting her husband’s name.

  He came out a minute later rubbing his eyes as if to remove the sleep from them.

  Ileana guessed he had been up late the night before, perhaps rescuing a sheep that had been marooned on a ledge from which it could not descend.

  Or he might have been battling with the eagles that were known to carry off baby lambs.

  Olav grinned with delight when he saw Ileana and hurried to the side of her horse to say,

  “It’s good to see you, gracious Princess! I have missed you this last year. I had hoped that I might once again have the privilege of helping you to climb one of the peaks from which you can see almost the whole world.”

  Ileana laughed.

  She enjoyed Olav’s flattering way of talking.

  “I have been very remiss, but you must forgive me. And now I need your help.”

  “My help, gracious Lady?”

  Ileana gave a signal to Captain Heviz who went to Satan’s head.

  The horse did not like him touching his bridle and tried to rear, but Ileana controlled him and then slipped to the ground.

  She walked to where outside Olav’s cottage there was a rough seat, which he had himself made from wood cut from the forest.

  She sat down and, when he stood in front of her, she said,

  “I think you can guess what I want to know, Olav.”

  “About them?”

  He jerked his thumb as he spoke towards the summit of the mountain and Ileana said,

  “Nobody can tell me anything about them, except that they are there. I want to know who they are and how many?”

  “That’s difficult to say, gracious Lady,” Olav replied, “but many, many!”

  Ileana frowned.

  She wondered if Olav could count, but because she had always found him truthful she thought that what he said was ominous.

  “What are they doing?” she enquired.

  “They are camped in tents and the caves.”

  “Why are they there?”

  Olav shrugged his shoulders.

  “They shoot goats and chamois, and race their horses.”

  “Horses?” Ileana interrupted. “They have horses?”

  “Many, many horses, gracious Lady.”

  This was something she had not expected.

  She had always supposed that as most brigands spent their time high in the mountains, it was impossible for them to have horses with them.

  Now she thought she had been very obtuse.

  Vaguely at the back of her mind, although she had forgotten it until now, she remembered hearing that the Pallikares’ notable accomplishment was to shoot a pheasant from a horse travelling at full gallop.

  Of course they would have their horses with them and she thought now that perhaps that was another reason why they had come to Zokāla.

  The horses of Zokāla were famous for their appearance, their stamina and their speed.

  Naturally there were far fewer of them than there were in Hungary, but already there was a demand for foals that gratified the horse-breeders and a Zokālan-bred horse was looked upon with respect in all the surrounding countries.

  As if he was following her thoughts Olav remarked,

  “They very fine horsemen. I see horses race in the Bela Valley. Very fast! Gracious Lady would enjoy it!”

  Ileana drew in her breath.

  She had a sudden idea that was more outrageous than any idea she had ever had before.

  She looked up at the mountain towering above her.

  It was formidable. Equally it looked very quiet and peaceful.

  There were two eagles hovering overhead and that meant, she was sure, that if any of the Pallikares were watching, their eyes would be on them.

  She made up her mind.

  “Take me up the mountain, Olav,” she asked, “just high enough for me to see what is happening on the other side.”

  A huge grin of delight spread over Olav’s face and his eyes lit up.

  “The gracious Lady wish to go now?”

  “Yes, at once!” Ileana agreed.

  He ran back inside the cottage to collect his ropes and all the other equipment essential to the safety of a climber.

  Ileana walked slowly back to where the two aides-de-camp were standing with the horses.

  “I am going to climb up the mountain with Olav,” she stated.

  If she had exploded a bomb at their feet, they could not have looked more astonished.

  “I am sure Your Royal Highness should not do such a thing!” Captain Heviz objected.

  “It will be quite safe,” Ileana replied. “I must find out for myself, which the Army has lamentably neglected to do, why the Pallikares have to all intents and purposes invaded us.”

  “But, Your Royal Highness, it may be dangerous! Suppose the brigands capture and kill you?”

  “They are not likely to do so,” Ileana replied, “and since I shall not be accompanied except by Olav, they will merely think I am another tourist enjoying a quiet climb, which, as you well know, happens a dozen times a day in the summer.”

  This was true.

  A great number of people came to Zokāla to climb the mountains and go home to boast of their achievement. Ileana thought she would not be surprised if the other professional climbers like Olav were not scaling the mountains further along the range, which were easier than Bela and where they usually took novices.

  Without listening to any more arguments from the aides-de-camp who were, in fact, too astonished to say very much, she went into the cottage where she had often been before and took off her coat.

  Olav’s wife rolled it into a bundle wrapped in a piece of clean muslin and gave it to her husband to carry on his back.

  It was quite common to start the day in blazing sunshine, but, as they climbed higher, the weather could change and the return journey could be bitterly cold unless one had a coat to wear.

  Underneath it Ileana was wearing the tight-fitting trousers that resembled those worn by the Officers when they were off-duty and above them a blue silk blouse that matched her coat.

  It fastened at the neck with a brooch that had been given to her on her last birthday by the Officers of the King’s Cavalry and which she always wore when riding with them.

  Otherwise her blouse was very plain and the only touch of colour came from the brilliant red satin sash around her waist, the ends of which fell down her hip on one side.

  She looked very elegant, but she was well aware that an
y older members of the Court would have thought her appearance immodest and improper and would have averted their eyes.

  It was, however, impossible to climb in skirts and Ileana was already an experienced climber.

  Although she had not climbed with Olav for a year it was a delight to walk lithely along in the climbing shoes he always kept for her in his cottage and into which she had changed from her riding boots.

  She felt almost as if she had wings on her feet as they moved very quickly over the rocks and stones at the foot of the mountains.

  Then they reached the hard rock that had to be climbed carefully because there were so few footholds.

  For Olav it was as easy as walking upstairs and, having attached his ropes to Ileana, he led the way knowing that he had taught her never to make an unwary step and never to move until she was quite certain she would not slip.

  The sun was high in the sky as they climbed steadily.

  It took over an hour to reach the point from which Ileana knew she could look down into the valley on the other side and see what was happening.

  There was no sound except for the tap of Olav’s alpine pick and they did not speak.

  She knew without her telling him that Olav was aware that this was a secret climb, that she was spying on the intruders and had no wish for them to be aware of it.

  All the time they were climbing higher, she could see the eagles overhead and this reassured her that whatever was happening in the Bela Valley it was unlikely that there were human beings just above them on this side of the mountains.

  Olav stopped just short of the top and turning round pulled the ropes that drew Ileana up beside him.

  Then, as he put out his hand to take hers, she joined him, crawling forward so that she would not be seen from below silhouetted against the sky.

  They were on a narrow ledge from which on one side the peak of the mountain rose straight up, while below them it sloped down into the valley, much less steeply than on the side they had just climbed.

  By craning her neck Ileana could just see what lay below her.

  Olav had been right.

  There were many, many men who looked like little ants moving about and, to her surprise, pitched directly below these were a number of quite large tents of various brilliant colours.

  It was not the tents, however, that held Ileana’s attention, but the horses on the plain and there were far more of them than she had expected.

  She realised as she looked that they were being drilled into pulling a number of large guns, so large that even at this distance she knew they were bigger than anything her own Army possessed.

  She counted up to ten of them, then realised that those were only the ones being drawn by teams of six horses each.

  On each side of the ground there were guns and more guns.

  The men were sitting watching what was taking place, each of them carrying a rifle on his back and, although she could not see very clearly, Ileana was sure there were pistols and knives in the sashes around their waists.

  She drew in her breath at the horror of what she was seeing.

  Then, as she was about to tell Olav they should descend because it was dangerous to remain any longer, men materialised as if out of nowhere on each side of them.

  They looked just as she had expected the Pallikares would look, large, strong, bristling with weapons, and most of them, despite the heat, wearing sheepskin shoudas and fur caps that she knew were called kalpaks.

  It was then her heart gave a frightened thump, but speaking calmly and slowly she said,

  “Good day to you! I have just, as you see, climbed the mountain with my friend!”

  She indicated Olav with her hand and then, realising that the men facing her did not understand, she spoke to them instead in Bulgarian.

  For a moment she thought that once again she had drawn a blank.

  Then one man moved forward to answer her.

  “You boy?” he asked.

  As he spoke he looked at Ileana’s breasts which were outlined against the silk of her blouse and to her own annoyance she felt like blushing before she replied,

  “That is none of your business! I am an inhabitant of Zokāla, and now I will return the way I came.”

  She rose to her feet as she spoke and Olav rose too.

  She knew as he adjusted the ropes around her shoulders that he was nervous.

  The brigands, for that was what they certainly looked like, encircled them and the one who spoke Bulgarian said,

  “Both come with us. Tell General why you come.”

  For a moment Ileana felt frightened. Then she knew that this was exactly what she had wanted.

  What could be better than if she met General Vladilas and heard from him what he intended?

  One thing was quite certain, he would have no idea of who she was and, if he thought her to be a boy as the Bulgarian had done, so much the better.

  “I would like to meet your Leader,” she said with a smile.

  Then she turned to Olav,

  “Give me my coat.”

  He took it from his back and unrolled it from the muslin that his wife had wrapped round it to keep it clean.

  As she was doing so, Ileana shrugged off the ropes around her shoulders, aware that the men were watching her curiously.

  She was certain their eyes were on her breasts, but once the coat was on and buttoned, she felt protected and she felt too that they were more likely to accept that she was a boy.

  She had not worn her hat while she climbed, but her hair was pinned close to her head to prevent it from blowing in her face if there was any wind.

  Now she put her sable cap on and pulled it firmly down on her forehead.

  “What should we do, gracious Lady?” Olav asked in a whisper.

  “We will meet their Leader. But call me ‘sir’. They think I am a boy and it is important that they should continue to think so.”

  Olav nodded as though he understood and again Ileana smiled at the Bulgarian.

  “Lead the way!” she suggested.

  He set off immediately and Ileana followed him with Olav just behind her and the rest of the men behind him.

  Although it was rough going there was no need on this side for the ropes and by jumping from rock to rock and occasionally having to let themselves down by their hands they descended the mountain without any trouble.

  Only as they reached the level ground and Ileana saw ahead of them one of the brilliantly coloured tents that she had seen from above did she wonder if she was walking into a hornets’ nest.

  At the same time she knew it was the most exciting thing that could have happened and she was already thinking what a triumph it would be when she returned and told the Generals what she had discovered.

  Now she could see to the left of her the guns drawn by the horses.

  They were still exercising in the flat valley, turning in formation, proceeding first in one direction, then in the other.

  Then, as she looked back from where they were going she realised that the Bulgarian brigand had reached the entrance of the tent.

  It was far larger and more impressive than she had expected it to be and she thought that perhaps because of its colour she would find that General Vladilas was decked out like some Oriental Potentate, wearing a turban and smoking a hookah.

  As she smiled at her own fantasy the Bulgarian said,

  “You wait here!”

  “Of course,” Ileana replied and turned to look again at what was happening in the valley.

  Now she could see how many guns there were drawn up on either side of what she thought of as the Parade Ground.

  Automatically she began to count the men who were either sitting in the shade of the guns or stretched out asleep under the rocks.

  Those who were moving about walked with a swagger that proclaimed their sense of superiority and what she felt sure was a belief in their own invulnerability.

  They were very picturesque, so fascinating that she
thought they might have stepped straight out of a Fairy tale.

  Looking at them as they gazed curiously at her, she was sure that some of them were Greek, some undoubtedly Turkish and others might have belonged to any of the other Balkan countries.

  Of one thing she was absolutely certain, they were all immensely strong and undoubtedly, as the Greeks had found, magnificent fighters.

  She felt a sudden sense of panic as if already she could see her soldiers being mown down by their guns.

  Then, as she wondered frantically what she could do, she heard the Bulgarian say,

  “My Leader see you. Come, please.”

  He made a sign as he spoke for her to enter the tent and she knew as she walked towards him that he stopped Olav from following her.

  For a moment it was difficult to adjust her eyes to the darkness inside the tent after the brilliance of the sunshine outside.

  Then, at the far end of it, she could see a man who was writing at a table.

  As she walked towards him, he rose to his feet.

  She knew that this was General Vladilas, but he was very different from what she had expected.

  Tall and broad-shouldered, she saw at a quick glance that he was exceedingly handsome.

  At the same time he had that same look of superiority as the bandits he commanded.

  He was not dressed in a flamboyant style, but was wearing a uniform that seemed vaguely familiar, until Ileana realised with a sense of shock that it was almost identical to that worn by the Officers of the Zokālan Army.

  Then, as she stood in front of him, wondering if she should speak or wait for him to do so, General Vladilas put out his hand and said,

  “This is indeed a surprise, Princess Ileana, but I am delighted to welcome you!”

  Chapter Three

  For a moment Ileana was too astonished to reply.

  Then without thinking she said the first thing that came into her head.

  “You know who I am?”

  General Vladilas smiled before he replied,

  “Of course!”

  There was silence.

  Then he said,

  “Will you sit down? I am sure that after your hard climb, which I have been told you managed extremely efficiently, you would like something to drink.”

  He indicated as he spoke, two chairs with a low round table in front of them.