“You must not think like that,” Ileana said quickly. “You must try to forget me.”
“Never!”
She sighed.
“I shall never forget that you are my friend.”
She spoke softly and encouraged, as he had never been in the past, Prince Tomilav reached out to put his hands on her shoulders.
“Before I go, Ileana,” he said in a hoarse voice, “and it is doubtful if I shall ever come back, let me kiss you.”
Ileana hesitated, then she asked herself why should she care if it was disloyal to a man who had no real interest in her except that she was a stepping stone to power.
As if her hesitation made him think that she consented, Prince Tomilav pulled her close against him, but, when his lips sought hers, she turned her head so that they rested against her cheek.
“I love you! Oh, darling, I love you!” he murmured hoarsely.
At that moment the door opened.
Neither of them realised that Vladilas was in the room until he walked towards them and, as he reached them, Prince Tomilav took his arms from around Ileana and stepped back.
Then, as she looked at her husband, she knew that she had never seen a man look so furiously angry or so frightening.
She thought he resembled an eagle or some other great bird of prey and there was an expression that seemed like murder in his eyes.
“Get out of here!” he yelled at Prince Tomilav. “And if you are still in the Palace in fifteen minutes time, I swear I shall kill you!”
The vehemence of his words seemed to vibrate around the room and Prince Tomilav went very pale before, with an effort to appear dignified, he walked towards the door and turning the handle left the room.
Vladilas stood watching him go and only when the door closed did he turn towards Ileana.
Although she tried to face him defiantly, she felt her heart beating tumultuously because he looked so terrifying.
“How dare you!” he snarled furiously. “How dare you allow another man to touch you when you are my wife!”
Ileana lifted her chin.
“A wife chosen to further your ambitions!” she retorted. “And you have no right to interfere with my friends.”
“Friends? Do you call that friendship?” Vladilas asked scornfully.
Then, as he looked at her, the flames of red glinting in her hair, her green eyes defying him, he lost his self-control.
Taking her by the shoulders as Prince Tomilav had done, but with his fingers digging violently into the softness of her flesh, he shook her.
He shook her as if she was a small animal, backwards and forwards until the pins flew out of her hair, her chignon loosened and the heavy tresses fell down her back.
Still he shook her until she was breathless.
Then, as she put up her hands to try to force him away from her, he pulled her violently against him and said furiously,
“If it is kisses you want, why not take them from the man who is entitled to kiss you!”
With that his lips were on hers and Ileana wanted to cry out with the pain of it.
He kissed her roughly, brutally and, while she wanted to plead with him not to hurt her, she was captive and helpless in his arms, which were like bands of steel.
Then, as if the softness and inexperience of her lips swept away some of his anger, Vladilas’s mouth became more gentle although no less insistent.
Now his kisses were demanding, dominating, but at the same time there was a tenderness that had not been there before and the pain he had caused her ceased.
Ileana had never been kissed and she had not realised that a woman could be held completely captive in a man’s arms in a way that made it impossible not only to move but also even to think.
Then, as she wanted to struggle against him and free her lips from his, she found his mouth had evoked a strange sensation within her, which was something totally different from anything she had ever felt in the past.
She could not explain it, it was almost as if a tidal wave swept over her and she was no longer herself, but a part of Vladilas.
Then, when it seemed that every conflicting feeling in her whole body was concentrated in her breasts, he suddenly took his arms from her.
She would have fallen to the ground if she had not reached out to hold onto the back of a chair.
Without speaking, without even looking at her, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and Ileana heard his footsteps going down the corridor.
It was then that she felt as if she had been engulfed in a tempestuous sea and had been so buffeted by it that she could hardly believe she was still alive and not drowned.
Trembling, because it had all been so unexpected and such a shock, she sat down in a chair and covered her face with her hands.
She could feel the pain of Vladilas’s fingers still on her shoulders and she thought her lips must be bruised because of the way he had first kissed her.
And yet there was still that strange feeling within her that seemed, now she could think about it, to intensify and to burn through her whole body so that she could not escape from it.
“How dare he treat me in such a way?” she tried to say.
But there was no real threat behind the words and they were in fact as ineffective and helpless as she was herself.
As she heard the door open, she hastily sat up in her chair and put up her hands to tidy her hair.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” one of the aides-de-camp said from the doorway, “but His Majesty King Otto of Greece wishes to say goodbye to Your Majesty before he leaves.”
“Tell His Majesty I will be with him in a few minutes,” Ileana replied.
The aide-de-camp bowed and closed the door and she quickly picked up her hairpins from where they had fallen on the floor.
Whatever her private life was like at the moment, she must publicly behave as was expected of a Queen – with gracious dignity.
As she walked along the corridor to the State Room where she knew the Greek King and doubtless other departing dignitaries would be waiting, she recalled that in the past she had often thought that the Kings and Queens with whom she had stayed were so frigid and formal that it was impossible for them to feel any normal human emotion.
Now she told herself that her whole body was a battleground of feelings that she could not translate into words.
She only knew they left her confused, agitated and conscious that her heart was beating in a very strange manner.
‘How could he do this to me?’ she asked herself and thought with a feeling almost of despair that the future with Vladilas as her husband was very frightening.
*
By the following morning the last visitor had left and the Palace seemed extremely quiet.
It was not only the crowned heads or their representatives from nearly a dozen countries who had occupied all the best bedrooms, it was also that they had each brought with them a retinue.
There were equerries, secretaries, valets, medical attendants, Gentlemen-in-Waiting and, in the case of one monarch besides his doctor there was a chiropodist.
Ileana could not help thinking that if Vladilas had been a husband she had chosen for herself they would have been able to laugh in private at their guests.
They would wonder how many of them, when they saw the parade of arms which the Zokālan Army now possessed, would realise that their ambitions were defeated without a single shot being fired.
Instead, after what had occurred, she was aware that Vladilas would not speak to her, he did not look at her and was obviously going out of his way to avoid her.
The only time he was even near her was when it was time for them to retire.
Then they said goodnight to their guests and left the State drawing room formally with Ileana’s hand resting on his.
In the hall he walked with her to the bottom of the staircase, bowed and left her without speaking as she started to ascend the stairs.
She was sure that
he was still very angry and, as she walked towards her own bedroom, she wondered how long they could continue to ignore each other.
She felt it was very much more depressing than if they were fighting.
Ileana admitted that she would rather enjoy a duel in words, in which she would try if not to hurt Vladilas, because she was sure that was impossible, at least to provoke him.
All she could see now were long frustrating days ahead when, if he wished, he could arrange everything without even consulting her.
It would be exactly what the Prime Minister and the Cabinet would think correct. They had always resented it that a woman should give them orders and she was quite certain they would not wish her to attend their meetings or, if they could prevent it, to have any part in the governing of Zokāla.
“I will fight him! I will fight him on this, if nothing else!” Ileana cried.
Then she remembered how helpless she had felt in his arms and how strong he had been and hated herself for being a woman rather than a man.
“I would be the King now if I had been a boy!” she kept repeating.
She wanted to defy Vladilas by wearing the trousers in which she had schooled her horses and which had given her a sense of freedom, but which, if she obeyed him, she would never wear again.
She lay awake for a long time, tossing and turning and wondering how she could bear a life in which she was forced into having nothing to do except to sit about the Palace and play at being a Queen.
She felt heavy-eyed in the morning and rose almost as soon as she was called.
Putting on again the black gown, but resentfully, because it seemed so inappropriate on such a sunny day, she went downstairs to The Queen’s Room, wondering what Vladilas was doing.
There were a number of letters on her writing table. They were all condolences, which she knew she had to answer, but she pushed them aside, conscious that no more State papers such as those that had been brought to her after her father had become ill and which she had signed on his behalf, were there.
Vladilas would have those now and doubtless he was putting all sorts of plans into operation, considering new Acts of Parliament and enjoying the respect of the Ministers who would listen to him without daring to express their own opinions.
As if fresh anger was engendered by her thoughts, she swept away the pile of letters of condolence from her desk onto the floor.
She thought as she did so that they were typical trivialities, which would be all that was left to her from now until she was in the grave.
Then, as she stood looking down at the letters that were strewn at her feet, and instead of feeling angry but curiously near to tears, the door opened and Vladilas came into the room.
Almost despite herself, Ileana felt her heart leap just because he was there.
He was not in uniform, but wearing riding clothes and looking extremely handsome.
“I came to tell you that I am leaving this morning for Mispa,” he said in a cold distant voice that made him sound as if he was speaking to her from several miles away.
Ileana’s eyes widened as he went on,
“I am taking with me a large number of my followers whom I intend to settle there and, as it will take some time to make all the arrangements for their comfort, I expect to be away for perhaps ten days or two weeks.”
He paused but still Ileana found it impossible to say anything and he went on,
“Any documents of importance will of course be brought to me every day and I expect you will be able to deal with any other matters.”
He finished speaking and, as if he expected no reply, he turned to leave the room.
Only as he reached the door did Ileana find her voice and without thinking the words came out a little jerkily,
“Let me – come with – you.”
Vladilas already had the door half open and now he paused and still with his back to her he enquired,
“Is that what you want?”
Impulsively Ileana moved towards him and, as he turned round, she said,
“Please – please – let me come with you.”
His eyes searched her face as if he was asking if what he had heard was the truth.
Then, as she looked up at him pleadingly, he said,
“I will order your horse, Satan, and we will leave in an hour.”
He was gone before she could reply.
Then because she had a frightening feeling that if she was late he would not wait for her, she ran as quickly as she could up to her bedroom.
*
Riding through the valley it was very hot and, as Ileana looked up at the last small vestiges of snow on the mountain peaks, she felt that just the sight of them helped to cool her.
Since she had not been able to ride Satan during the days of the funeral, he was very fresh and obstreperous and she was certain that, because the grooms were frightened of him, he had not been properly exercised.
He bucked and reared as soon as she was in the saddle, just to show his independence and she had the feeling that Vladilas was watching her control him with a twinkle in his eyes.
She was determined to prove to him that not only was Satan an exceptional horse, but she was an exceptional rider.
It was with a feeling of satisfaction as warm as the sunshine, that, as they rode on, she knew by an instinct stronger than words that Vladilas was no longer angry with her.
She had been determined to look her best and had swept aside her lady’s maid’s suggestion that she should wear a black habit.
Instead, knowing that everybody would be horrified if she wore one of her coloured ones, she chose one of white piqué that was smart yet cool on the hottest day.
It had a riding hat with a white gauze veil encircling the crown and hanging down her back.
She knew because of what lay ahead that her eyes were sparkling and she looked her best as she came down the steps of the Palace to where Vladilas was waiting for her.
To her surprise, instead of allowing one of the grooms to assist her, he himself lifted her into the saddle.
As he arranged her full riding skirt over her stirrup she thought there was a faint twist to his lips, as if he knew he had been the victor in his determination that she should not ride in trousers.
He certainly could not accuse her of being anything but feminine, she thought, in her white riding habit with a thin muslin blouse beneath it and a bunch of lace at her throat.
Her gloves were white and her whip had an ivory handle set with small diamonds.
She thought he looked at her appreciatively, but could not be sure.
When he had mounted his own horse, a magnificent Arab-bred animal with an arched neck that would have proclaimed his origin anywhere, they set off at the head of a cavalcade that Ileana thought might have stepped out of a storybook.
As they reached the valley, she looked back and saw that with his characteristically inimitable and efficient organisation, Vladilas must have commandeered every possible vehicle not only from the Army, but also from the civilian population in order to convey his people to the valley.
He was taking there, she thought, all the women and children she had first seen with him, but now there seemed to be many more of them than there had been before.
The vehicles were piled high with their possessions and walking behind them led on ropes were not only their horses but also their cows and goats.
She looked back and saw in the rear of the cavalcade there were many drays stacked with wood, posts and what she suspected were a large number of building implements.
Then she said to Vladilas,
“Anybody seeing us would be quite certain we were the Israelites, setting out for the Promised Land!”
“That is what I believe the Mispa Valley will be to my people,” Vladilas replied, “and once they have homes they will settle down and be happy.”
“What happened to the homes they originally had?” Ileana enquired.
There was a little pause and sh
e had the feeling he was wondering if he should be truthful or not.
Then he said,
“Some of them are the descendants of those who followed my father when he left Zokāla. Some, as I suspect you have already guessed, have their own reasons for leaving their countries of origin and some are in hiding.”
“Do you mean they are criminals?”
“I mean they came to me for protection,” he said in a cold voice, “and that is something I would refuse nobody!”
There was silence until Ileana quizzed him,
“And you think they will be happy, now that you are looking after them?”
“That is what I intend them to be,” Vladilas replied. “So we must both make every effort to make them feel that they are actually an important part of our country.”
It flashed through her mind that she was surprised that he included her and then, because Satan was being restless, she asked,
“Can we give the horses their heads? Or will our people feel we have deserted them?”
Vladilas gave a little laugh.
“As most of them are experienced horsemen, I think they will understand what we are doing.”
Ileana smiled and, touching Satan with her whip, set off at a wild gallop.
She knew it was a challenge that Vladilas would not refuse and in a moment they were racing over the flower-filled grass, hearing the thunder of hoof, and feeling the cool air sweep away the heat and dust of the City.
It was so exhilarating that when a long time later Ileana drew in Satan, she felt as if she had suddenly come alive and the depression she had been feeling for the last twenty-four hours had been swept away.
“Did I win?” she asked, knowing it was only a question in any case of a few inches.
“It was a dead heat!” Vladilas declared firmly. “We were equal, which is as it should be.”
She knew there was an innuendo in his voice and he was not only speaking of the race.
“That is what I hoped you might say,” she answered.
She looked at him as she spoke. But he was turning his horse back towards the procession behind them and, as he was already moving quickly, she had to hurry to catch up with him.
It was only when they reached the Mispa Valley and Vladilas was giving directions as to where everybody was to go, that she was able to look more closely at the people who had been behind them.
Bride to a Brigand Page 11