Bride to a Brigand

by Barbara Cartland

  “A very dramatic word for being escorted by a superior force.”

  “I have never heard of anything so disgraceful!” Ileana retorted. “I consider it an intolerable way of behaving, except, of course, that it is what one might expect from – ”

  She paused as she realised that what she had been about to say would have been rude and that would undoubtedly be a great mistake when she was in his power.

  “ – what one might expect from a brigand?” the General finished. “Of course you are right, Princess, I am a brigand, and it is what I have been for years. At the same time my men have their uses!”

  “I hear they fought valiantly in Greece,” Ileana conceded, “but then you were fighting on behalf of a throne not against it.”

  “I am not fighting against one now,” the General replied. “In fact I intend to preserve the throne of Zokāla by reigning as its King – and as your husband!”

  It was then that Ileana lost control of her temper that had been rising all the time they had been talking.

  “I have no wish to marry anybody,” she stated angrily, “and certainly not you!”

  The General did not move.

  He merely sighed before he said,

  “Very well, I will take over the country by force and there will be no question of waiting until your father’s death. I will be crowned immediately and run things my own way.”

  “That would be a monstrous thing to do! Completely unethical and unjustified!”

  “I think not. I can give you a dozen examples of very much the same thing happening all through history,” the General replied, “but the situation is urgent, and I cannot afford to wait or rather Zokāla cannot!”

  “I think you are exaggerating the whole situation,” Ileana argued.

  “Are you prepared to take the risk?” the General enquired. “The Hungarian Army will not be as up to date as mine, but they could certainly make short work of your toy soldiers!”

  Ileana stamped her foot.

  “That is offensive and intolerable!” she stormed. “I will not stay here and listen to you any longer!”

  She turned as she spoke and walked out of the tent.

  She intended to find Olav and insist on returning the way they had come, but, as she emerged, she saw just outside the entrance several magnificent horses that she remembered the General had told her would be brought for her inspection.

  Without hesitating, driven impulsively by her desire to escape, she seized hold of the saddle of the stallion opposite her and swung herself into it, almost as if she had wings.

  Her action took the man who was holding it by surprise and, as she gathered the reins and moved forward, he instinctively let go of the bridle and she was away.

  She had already seen where the way out of the valley lay and knew it was a straight gallop with no obstacles in sight.

  The stallion was obviously fresh and sprang forward as soon as she dug her heels into his sides.

  Then they were off, moving at a wild gallop that would have been thrilling and exhilarating if Ileana had not been anxious about being overtaken.

  Her fear was soon substantiated, for she had not gone very far before she heard the sound of hoofs behind her and knew without turning her head who was in pursuit.

  She had a start, but not a very long one and she knew that, once the General realised what she had done, he had only to jump onto one of the other horses that were being paraded for her.

  Ileana knew that there was nobody in the whole country who could ride as well as she could, especially when she had a horse that had Arab blood in him and was superlative in every way.

  She was moving so fast that she thought it would be impossible for anybody to catch up with her.

  Yet, as she bent lower in the saddle and urged the stallion in every way she could without having a whip in her hand, she could hear the General’s horse coming nearer and nearer.

  They were both moving so quickly that Ileana was not surprised when her sable cap blew from her head. She hardly noticed it had gone, intent as she was on outriding the General and reaching the safety of the Palace.

  But she could not have travelled more than half a mile before he was riding alongside her.

  She tried by every means she could to prevent him from doing so, but he drew his horse nearer and nearer still until they were so close that she felt they must collide.

  Then the General performed the trick that was the most difficult and most admired in any horseman.

  While travelling at full gallop he lifted her from the saddle of her horse onto his.

  As he did so Ileana could hardly believe it could have happened.

  It was a feat she had seen performed only once or twice in her travels in Hungary and never thought it could happen to her.

  For one second there was the feeling of flying through the air and the next moment she landed against his chest with a thud, which almost knocked her unconscious.

  The General reined in his horse, turned and started to ride back with her captive across his saddle, her head on his shoulder.

  Now that she had lost her sable cap, the pins fell from her head and she felt her hair streaming over her coat glinting golden in the afternoon sun.

  She heard the General give a shrill whistle above her head and knew, almost as if it was a final humiliation that the stallion she had been riding had turned at the sound.

  The General could have stopped him at any moment he wished and the stallion would have brought her back to him without any effort.

  Instead he had proved his dominance and his undoubted horsemanship by carrying her back in his arms.

  It was then she heard the cheers ring out from his men and realised that they were cheering their Leader and his exhibition of authority over a woman who had tried to defy him.

  They reached the tent, the General dismounted with her still in his arms, another clever feat and carrying her, walked back inside.

  He did not put her down, but stood holding her until Ileana opened her eyes to say,

  “I hate you! I would rather die than accept you as my husband!”

  “You will not die,” the General replied, “but your people will. Is that what you want?”

  He spoke sharply, as if she was a foolish child who did not understand the full impact of what he had been saying.

  Then, as she was silent, he set her down on the ground and, feeling as if her legs would not carry her, she sank down into the chair.

  He filled her glass and drank from his own as if he was thirsty before he said,

  “Now, let us stop playing games! I am not prepared to listen to any more nonsense. You will marry me tonight and tomorrow we will drive into Zokāla at the head of my troops and inform our people that they are safe and protected.”

  “Do you really think I will – agree to – that?”

  She wanted to sound firm and defiant, but even to herself she sounded ineffective.

  “There is no question of whether you agree or do not agree,” the General replied. “Everything is arranged and the Priest who travels with me will be waiting for us in an hour’s time.”

  Ileana parted her lips to say that she would refuse to do as he told her, but he went on,

  “As I have no intention of marrying you wearing those clothes you have on now, you will find a Greek wedding gown in your tent, which, since the Service will be performed by a Greek Priest, is appropriate.”

  “If you think I am going to change my clothes to please you, then you are very much mistaken!” Ileana cried defiantly.

  But, as she spoke, she had the terrifying feeling that the General was sapping her will and making her nothing but a puppet in his hands.

  “As I intend to marry a woman and not a pseudo-boy,” he said scornfully, “you will change your dress! Otherwise you will find that I am quite experienced as a lady’s-maid!”

  There was a mocking twist to his lips that made her detest him.

  Then because she was frightened
she said as firmly as she could,

  “You must see this is a – ridiculous way to behave! Surely you must realise that I should have time to think over what is best not only for myself but also for my country?”

  “I know what is best for Zokāla,” the General replied, “and, as I have already told you, time is something we neither of us can afford.”

  He walked towards one side of the tent as he said,

  “Come and change and I am sure that after all your exertions today you would like a bath.”

  This was true, but Ileana had no intention of admitting it and rose to her feet wondering once again if there was any possible way by which she could escape.

  She was quite sure that horses would not be waiting outside a second time and the General was standing at an opening of the tent with an expression in his eyes that she did not like to interpret.

  Holding her head high, at the same time feeling it was difficult to look dignified with her hair falling over her shoulders, she stalked past him.

  She found that his tent connected with another in which there were two women who curtsied when she appeared. One of them was obviously Greek and very beautiful, the other was older and looked like a Bulgarian.

  The General had not followed her and, as the fold of the tent fell back into place and she was alone with the women, Ileana said, speaking in Greek,

  “Help me! I have no wish to stay here! How can I get away?”

  She felt the women looked at her in surprise as she added,

  “I will reward you well if you will show me how I can escape.”

  The Greek woman obviously understood what she said, but at the same time she looked in consternation at the other woman as if she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  Then in a soft musical voice she replied,

  “It is impossible, Your Royal Highness, to do anything but what our Leader asks.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  In answer, as if it was the only way to convince her, the woman drew aside the flap of the tent, which covered the opening leading outside.

  Peeping through what was only a small aperture Ileana could see two large men wearing their shaggy shoudas standing directly outside as if they were on sentry duty.

  The Greek woman closed the flap and announced,

  “Your bath is ready, Your Royal Highness.”

  The tent had another opening at the back, and Ileana saw that there was a much smaller tent attached to it.

  In the centre was a large tin bath, which she knew would be light enough to be carried easily in any vehicle.

  It was now filled with water that to her surprise she found was scented with alpine flowers.

  Because she was very hot and sticky from her climb up the mountains and her wild dash for freedom, she allowed the women to help her undress.

  Only when she felt cool and clean and had dried herself on a surprisingly luxurious Turkish towel did she remember that the General had chosen a wedding gown for her.

  The impertinence of it was as infuriating as the fact that he was determined to marry her.

  ‘How can I marry such a man?’ she asked herself.

  Even, as every instinct within her body rebelled against the thought, she was at the same time frightened of him.

  Frightened because he had already proved his physical dominance by a feat of horsemanship that she knew could not have been equalled by any man in Zokāla.

  Frightened also by the manner in which he had offered her as an alternative to marrying him an inevitable massacre of her people.

  ‘What can I do? What can I do?’ she asked and knew that never in her whole life had she imagined she could find herself in such a predicament from which there appeared to be no escape.

  ‘Perhaps the Priest will not be a genuine one,’ she told herself.

  Then she knew that everything she had seen so far had obviously been thought out and planned down to the very last detail.

  It was unlikely, if he wished to be King of Zokāla, that the General would not make certain that their marriage was legal and there would be no way out of it – except by death.

  There was a brooding look in Ileana’s eyes as she allowed the women to help her into the gown that she had to recognise was extremely beautiful.

  She had learnt in the past that Greek girls, from every rank of society, prized their wedding gown above everything else.

  Each bride spent years embroidering and making it a feat of craftsmanship that ensured that every Greek bridal gown was not only beautiful but also unique.

  What was more, every Greek family possessed a necklace that had been handed down from mother to daughter and worn by generation after generation of brides on their wedding day.

  These were now coveted by museums because they were so exquisite and so valuable.

  The gown into which Ileana was helped was white, embroidered with brilliant coloured flowers round the hem, on the sleeves and on the bodice.

  It was so exquisite that Ileana almost forgot that the General provided it and she could not help admiring something that was so lovely.

  “It belonged to our Leader’s mother,” the Greek woman told her, “and we are always told she was very beautiful and gracious lady.”

  Ileana’s lips trembled, but there was nothing she could say.

  Because she was angry, she refused to admire the necklace made of precious stones that came from the mountains of Greece and set with diamonds.

  There were earrings to match, and the Greek maid parted her hair down the middle so that it waved on either side of her face and arranged her long tresses in a chignon low on her head.

  She then placed on it a Greek tiara, also of precious stones, which arched over her head rather than encircled it. From it hung a veil, which fell down the back of her gown to the ground and gave her an ethereal look.

  There was a long mirror in the tent and, as Ileana looked in it, she had to admit that she had ceased to be the Princess Ileana of Zokāla, and had become somebody who existed only in the mind of the General.

  “I hate him! I hate him for doing this to me!” she murmured.

  She had a sudden impulse to tear off the clothes and ruin the gown that had belonged to his mother and to stamp into the ground the necklace and the tiara that she knew were very valuable.

  Then she told herself that no matter what she did, it would not deter him from his main objective, which was to make her his wife.

  He had not raged at her, he had never raised his voice and yet the way he had given her his orders made her feel it impossible to disobey him.

  She knew this was what the Prime Minister himself had said Zokāla needed.

  A Leader who could send out vibrations so magnetic and so compelling that those who received them would do his bidding without argument.

  But not a brigand, a robber, a thief!

  ‘I hate him! I hate him!’ she wanted to scream and cry before throwing herself to the ground and refusing to move.

  But she could feel once again the strength of his arms as he had lifted her from the horse she was riding onto his.

  She had known too, feeling herself almost faint as he pulled her against his chest, her breasts hurt by the impact, that he was relentless, ruthless and, if it suited him, cruel.

  She knew that if she lay crying on the floor it would not divert him in any way from making her obey him.

  “I will find some way to free myself of him,” she vowed. But there was nothing she could do at the moment but go to him as he expected her to do.

  She must perform her part in this mockery of a marriage, which nevertheless would make him her husband, though she felt herself shaking with fury and frustration.

  Then she became aware that the women were exclaiming with each other over how beautiful she looked, and were obviously delighted with their part in dressing the bride.

  Now it was almost as if the General had called from the other tent, for the Greek women moved to the opening th
rough which she had come to them and stood waiting.

  For a moment Ileana could not move, she could only try frantically to think of some means of escape, some manner by which she could get away.

  But there were sentries outside and she was quite certain that the tent was securely pegged to the ground all round, and whatever she tried to do would be ineffectual and humiliating.

  Once again, holding her head high, determined that he should not have the satisfaction of listening to a plea for mercy, she walked from the tent into the one adjoining it.

  The General was waiting for her and now she saw that he was in the same uniform that a Zokālan would have worn in his place.

  He wore a white tunic over narrow red trousers with blue stripes down the sides.

  His tunic was covered with decorations, some of them bejewelled, but doubtless, Ileana thought with a curl to her lips, most of them stolen.

  He might have received a medal for his part in the Greek campaign, but she was quite certain that no other country would have a bandit, a robber and an outlaw wearing their prized decorations.

  It made her surer, because she already believed that he was an imposter and an untrustworthy rogue, that he would take advantage of any situation, which would help him personally.

  And this was the man she was to be married to! A man who was holding not only her, but also her country at gunpoint.

  For a moment they just stood looking at each other.

  Then the General said,

  “My compliments, Your Royal Highness, and may I say you look far more beautiful as a woman than when you are pretending to be a man?”

  “I do not pretend, nor do I presume to be anything I am not,” Ileana responded sharply.

  As if he understood only too well the innuendo in her voice, she saw the smile that just twisted the corners of his lips and longed to strike him.

  “Do you really intend to go through with this farce?” she demanded.

  “It is no farce,” the General replied, “but as I feel it is somewhat of an ordeal for both of us, I suggest we have a glass of champagne that might make us feel more relaxed.”

  Ileana longed to refuse, but at the same time she thought she needed something to sustain her.

  She suddenly realised that it was a long time since she had eaten breakfast and had had nothing more to eat since then.