The prince walked across the field until he came to a lake. Henryk stayed close but remained a few paces behind. As long as the hood of the cloak remained up, he would stay invisible, but he could inadvertently alert the prince to his presence through making too much noise. Henryk stepped quietly and moved when the prince moved. He paused when the prince paused.
An island glowed a short distance away in the middle of the lake, lit by torches and lanterns. The faint tinkle of music floated across the surface of the water. Beautiful, mature trees with limbs stretching into the sky ringed all around the lake. In the moonlight, everything was easy to see and yet there were still shadows. Henryk touched his fingers to the edge of the hood of his cloak to assure himself he remained invisible. His safe passage through this land hinged on remaining unknown.
Henryk gazed upward and noticed the tree he stood under looked silver in the moonlight, with silvery acorns to match. As the prince approached the shore, lights on the bow of a boat approached. He had a minute to explore. Henryk reached up and snagged a twig with a leaf and an acorn on it and looked at it closely. He’d thought the dark night and the moonlight had turned his vision to silver, but the tree itself was indeed made of the precious material. The leaf in his hand was cool and heavy. Henry put the twig in his pocket.
Then he caught up with the prince as he stepped into the boat. Henryk hid in the bow where no one in the boat would bump into him. Two men paddled the boat the short distance to the island. As they paddled, the prince changed clothes. He shucked off his nightgown and donned a luxurious dark suit with golden embroidery. A handkerchief in the breast pocket accented the clothing, and golden buttons gleamed at the cuffs of his sleeves. Henryk gathered his will to look away as the prince changed. He thought the prince attractive, but it was not right to gape unbeknownst.
“You don’t move the boat as fast tonight as you have others,” the prince said to the men paddling.
“The currents must be against us, sire. The boat seems heavier than usual.”
“Well, it isn’t me. I haven’t eaten any earthly food.” The prince tossed his head at the perceived slight.
The two men exchanged a look, but neither replied.
The moment the boat touched against the dock, the prince sprang forward. He moved swiftly up the hill, and Henryk was pressed to keep up with him and not to announce his presence through making too much noise.
Henryk gaped as he reached the pavilion at the top of the island. The entire space blazed with light, and dozens of couples spun together across a wide marble dance floor. A small orchestra played off to the side. Across the way, two entire tables practically groaned with the bounty of food nearly spilling over the edges. The scent of warm meat, baked cheese, and sugary desserts wafted across the air. Henryk was doubly glad he’d received dinner. If he’d arrived here famished, it would have been a hundred times harder to resist the temptation to eat. Every story he’d ever heard in childhood admonished not eating in strange, enchanted lands. The moment he tasted the food, his soul would be trapped here.
Crossing the expanse of the pavilion to reach the prince made Henryk contort in strange ways as he avoided bumping into the other partygoers. Soon he put himself behind the prince, ready to follow him through the night. The prince helped himself to the buffet of food, eating a little of everything, and then he poured himself a generous amount of wine.
“Time to dance, my darling!” A beautiful woman glided over to the prince. “Everyone must dance!”
The prince swallowed the last of his wine and tossed the glass to the side. He took the woman in his arms and joined the other couples on the dance floor. The orchestra never idled between songs. One melody shifted directly into another. The musicians didn’t pause or let the music die.
Henryk stood off to the side as the prince danced with the woman until she panted from exhaustion. He released her, and another dancer, a man, came to partner with him. Around and around they moved, a part of the glissade of dancers. After a long time, the partner moved on, and the prince took someone else into his arms. More dancing.
Henryk listened to the conversations of those around him, but they only spoke of the grandness of the pavilion, the deliciousness of the feast, the musicality of the orchestra, and the charisma of the dancers. He wondered if they were all princes and princesses traipsing off into the night from their palaces, or if some were ordinary folk enchanted or cursed to come there.
Or were they cursed?
Henryk studied the prince. Perhaps the prince preferred this life to the one he led back in the palace. Was this his attempt to escape his duties?
It was a question Henryk meant to answer. He hoped the prince did not shirk his responsibilities to steal away in the night. Aside from the prince’s undeniable handsomeness, Henryk liked the man. Their short conversation had pulsed with humor and friendliness. Henryk did not want to believe the prince would be complicit in this deception of running off into the night for an enchanted party. But how to tell if the prince was cursed? And if cursed, then how to break the spell?
Henryk mulled these thoughts over in his head without coming to any conclusion. Then he realized the prince had left the dance floor and stepped off the edge of the dancing platform and into the dark, grassy field. The edge of the sky was lighter than before. Dawn approached, and the prince headed back toward the boat.
Henryk rushed to catch up.
The prince moved more deliberately now. He’d been dancing all night, and Henryk realized the prince had to be exhausted. It made it easier for Henryk to sneak along behind him.
In the boat, the prince changed back into his nightgown. He threw his fine clothes in a rumpled heap on the bottom of the boat. His jacket landed at Henryk’s feet and the handkerchief in the pocket nearly brushed Henryk’s shoes. No one looked his way, and the urge to snatch the handkerchief became too much. Henryk boldly plucked it out of the suit pocket and into his own. When no shout came up at his action, Henryk shrank back into the bow of the boat with relief.
The prince pulled off his fine shoes and checked the soles before chucking them to the floor. “I’ve worn out another pair. I never thought it possible to wear out shoes in a single night of dancing, but now I know it is.” The prince sat down and rubbed the pads of one foot. “And each morning, I return with bruises and cannot walk at all and must stay in bed to recover.”
Henryk detected a note of despair in the prince’s voice. Surely he did not recognize any pride over the feat of wearing out shoes and dancing all through the night.
The two men paddling the boat grunted in response. Neither seemed prone to conversation or the least bit empathetic to the prince’s plight.
The prince glanced to the sky. “Hurry! You’ve got to hurry! I won’t make it back in time!”
“We’re going as fast as we can, sire. Perhaps you should have worn through two pairs of shoes and eaten less of the feast.” One of the paddle-men snickered.
The prince jumped to shore the moment the boat reached the edge. Henryk leaped after him. Instead of the sprightly walk of their entry, strain was obvious on the prince’s face as he raced toward the door.
If the prince came there each night, feasting and dancing, it would take a toll. Henryk weighted his opinion to the side that the prince came there against his will.
The prince flung open the door and started up the staircase. He winced with each step he took and clung to the hand railing, hauling himself upward with his arm strength for most of the return journey. Henryk longed to help him, but resisted the urge. Once he was back in the palace and out of the enchanted world, then he could take steps to ensure the prince’s rescue.
The prince reached the trap door and threw it open. He crawled up. Henryk pushed himself up on the other side to avoid touching the prince.
As the prince closed the trap door and fell into his bed, Henryk returned to his chair. He pulled his hood down and returned to the world of the visible.
The prince rolled ov
er and realized Henryk was there. He gasped, bringing one hand up.
“Did you have a pleasant night of drinking and dancing?” Henryk asked in a low, calm voice.
Panic filled the prince’s eyes, and Henryk’s heart hurt to see the pain there.
Then the guard sleeping in the other chair gave a snort and startled awake. He yawned and looked between the prince and Henryk. “Something happen?”
“MY TURN TO push.” Almarine tapped Clara on the shoulder.
Clara let the handles drop carefully until the wheelbarrow rested on the ground. “It’s a single pumpkin. How can it be so heavy? I swear it doubled in weight from when we started.” She wiped at her forehead.
“Did it?” Almarine tapped her fingers on the top of the pumpkin. “It seems the same.”
“Do you think it might be changing back into a carriage?” Clara asked. “We should take it out of the wheelbarrow if you think it might. I’d like to return the wheelbarrow in the same state that we borrowed it in.”
“Point taken. But no. I don’t think it’s changing back.” Almarine handed the basket over to Clara and then lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow. “It seems the same to me. You pushed for a long time. Look, we’re at the edge of the woods now. You’re fatigued.”
“It’s been a long day,” Clara agreed.
The afternoon had gradually changed into evening. Now the sun edged the horizon and purple dusk crept up the sky opposite it. She estimated they would make the city before dark, but it would be night before she finally reached home. The boys were probably wondering what had become of her.
Clara checked the contents of the basket. The mice had finished eating the rolls and one corner of the pumpernickel exhibited gnaw marks. She had hoped to bring it home unscathed. She hadn’t eaten since that morning’s porridge and the one fresh roll. Usually she had returned home long before now and delved into the leftover porridge in the pot. Cold porridge wasn’t appetizing, but it filled her up enough to subsist on it.
“The mice started on the loaf. Since the mice will nibble it to nothing, we may as well have some,” Clara said.
She’d meant to save it for the boys, but sometimes, plans went awry.
“Breakfast was an awfully long time ago. I hadn’t thought about it, but we haven’t eaten this whole day.” Almarine put the wheelbarrow handles down again. “Some bread would be most welcome, thank you.”
Clara broke off a hunk for herself and one for Almarine.
Almarine bit into it. She chewed thoughtfully. “I’m eating your supper, aren’t I?”
Clara had a mouthful of bread and so couldn’t answer, which made her glad. She gave her new friend a series of hand gestures that didn’t really mean anything, but expressed a neutral response.
“I am. And you’ve fed all your rolls to the mice. You’re kind not to have pointed it out before.” Almarine took another small bite. “Tonight, will you come and have dinner with me at the palace? As my guest. I can’t imagine how I’d have fared today without your assistance. Or without your company.”
Clara felt her cheeks warm. Almarine had been forthright with compliments during the day. “I would love to. But my stepsons—”
“I’ll send some food to them. Or invite them as well. Whichever can be most easily arranged. Please, Clara.”
“All right.” Clara finished her piece of bread.
The rest of the loaf remained in the basket. It would grow stale quickly now that the crust had been breached, but a little warm water would soften it tomorrow and she and the boys could eat it then, when Almarine returned to her life and Clara to hers. But a real supper tonight wasn’t something to turn away from. Clara tried to imagine when she might have a chance for another full meal in the future and found she couldn’t. The realization brought unexpected tears to her eyes, and she blinked them away hurriedly. She did not want Almarine to see her cry.
Almarine put her hands on the wheelbarrow handles again and stood there. For a long moment, she swayed in place.
“Almarine?” Clara asked.
“In less than a quarter mile, we’ll be able to see the edge of the city,” Almarine said. “More people will be on the road. We won’t be able to talk as freely as we have been.”
“No.” Clara looked down at her hands. She’d been having the same thought earlier in their journey.
“Given that, I think I should speak plainly with you. We’ve spent nearly the whole day together and have gotten to know each other. Rescuing men turned into mice and hauling a pumpkin in a wheelbarrow aren’t the sort of adventures you can trust anyone with.” Almarine turned and put her hands over Clara’s. “I have no plans to ever take another husband. I was the daughter of a noble family, and my duty was to go where arrangements took me. The choice was never mine then, but it is now. I would like to have your company. As a woman.”
“Oh,” said Clara, unable to formulate more of a response. She turned the words over in her head. She’d been wishing for this sort of declaration during their walk. Daydreaming of it. Was she still daydreaming? This couldn’t be real.
“There’s no time for me to be romantic. Being queen is a consuming business and that isn’t who I am, anyway.” Almarine gave a tight smile. “I have had to be practical my whole life. Circumstances demanded it and I’m afraid I’ve lost the knack for romance. But come with me. We can spend more time together in the palace, behind the walls. Learn to know each other.”
“I’d like that. Very much.” Clara pulled one hand away and put it on top of Almarine’s hand. Then, quick as a flash, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Almarine’s. The kiss was warm and fleeting, but sparks flew behind Clara’s eyes and in her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she thought she could see the same sparks in Almarine’s eyes.
“Wonderful,” Almarine said. She gave a small cough. “More of that later when we’re safe inside. For now, there’s a pumpkin in a wheelbarrow.”
“Of course.” Clara took up her position next to Almarine, and they began walking again.
They had nothing to say for the next few minutes as they trudged up the incline in the road where they would finally be able to see the city, but flashed smiles at each other. As they crested the road, Almarine huffed out a ragged laugh.
“Now they send someone out to find me. Where were they hours ago?”
Soldiers on horses trotted up the road. In the distance, they almost looked like toys to Clara. One particularly large, strong horse held a woman. By the toss of its head and the lift of its feet, Clara knew it to be the best and fastest. Clara watched as the horse and rider charged along the road. The woman certainly knew how to ride.
“Who is she?” Clara asked. As the woman rider came closer, her expression was one of concentration and quiet confidence.
“My daughter, Jacobina.” Almarine’s voice held pride. “It’s too bad she’s female and the laws are so foolish. She would have made the best king this land ever saw.”
“Mother!” the woman cried. She observed the small scene before her as she slowed her horse and then swung down easily. She hugged her mother. “When you weren’t home by supper, we became concerned. What happened? Where are the footmen?”
The soldiers trotted in behind her. They looked curiously around, their horses picking up their hooves with nervous energy. Clara found a bit of wry amusement in the fact that it was only she, her basket of bread and mice, and a wheelbarrow with a pumpkin. Hardly anything to fight against. It was a wistful amusement, though, as it meant her adventure with Almarine had come to an end. She would go to the palace, but she did not know what to expect and it made her anxious.
“It’s a long story. But they’re relatively safe for the moment.” Almarine drew herself up. “We have some tasks to accomplish before I will have the luxury to relate it.”
Her friend from the day transformed herself as surely as the men had been turned into mice. She had placed the mantle of leader on her shoulders again. In all but a moment, she ass
umed control and became queen.
“Have the men return this wheelbarrow to the woodcutter in the cabin. Transport the pumpkin, unharmed, back to the palace. Store it in the carriage house in the empty carriage bay. This is Clara. She will be coming to the palace with us tonight. On our way there, we will need to collect her stepsons. We’re going to have a late supper.”
“As you say, Mother.” Princess Jacobina nodded and then began to direct the men with orders.
After that, Clara found herself astounded at the swiftness of their movement. Soldiers marched the wheelbarrow back into the woods, even though it was becoming quite dark. Another rider hefted the pumpkin onto his horse and trotted off toward the palace. A carriage arrived to gather up Almarine and Clara, and they rode in style into the city.
Almarine’s daughter stayed apace with the carriage on their travel. Through the window, Almarine managed to succinctly tell her daughter about her day. Princess Jacobina listened thoughtfully and nodded in all the important places and did not once look as if she disbelieved her mother.
When the carriage stopped at Clara’s house, she felt both incredibly eager and ashamed. Her home had been obviously beautiful in the past and now reeked of neglect. Heat built in Clara’s cheeks. Her home remained unrepaired due to lack of funds, not from disregard or laziness.
“Is this where you live?” Almarine asked. She gazed out of the carriage at the house.
“Yes. It’s all I have left from my husband. If I were to lose it, I would be out on the street. His sons along with me.”
“I won’t let that happen.” Almarine gathered Clara’s hands in her own. “I cannot imagine the strength you’ve had to manage this. It makes me admire you all the more.”
Once Upon the Rainbow, Volume Two Page 31