A Princess Prays Read online

  “The water has just arrived, Your Majesty, so would Your Majesty like the bath hot or cold?”

  The King thought for a moment.

  “I think cold, Frederik, to wake me up. Has the food arrived too?”

  “The chef has asked me to tell Your Majesty that the eggs for breakfast are from Salem and he be preparing the other food for luncheon.”

  The King smiled as that at any rate had passed by without any trouble and he was certain that what Father Jozsef had told him would come true.

  He had a cold bath, reciting as he did so what Attila had told him to say to himself.

  ‘I am getting well! I am getting well!’

  It was after midday when the Queen visited him.

  “I am rather worried, Sigismund,” she said, as she came to his bedside. “There is no sign of Attila anywhere and I cannot think where she can be.”

  “She is quite all right,” the King replied. “I thought I told you she was going to stay with friends.”

  “You have told me nothing of the sort,” she retorted sharply. “What friends and why?”

  “She said they had asked her to go for a few days and I thought it would be good for her to get away. After all now I am in bed she misses our rides together.”

  “If you ask me,” the Queen said angrily, “Attila has deliberately gone away so as to avoid the party I am giving for Prince Otto.”

  “I think that party will be a mistake. I have heard some unpleasant stories about the Prince and he is not someone I particularly welcome to the Palace.”

  The Queen made a sound which he knew was one of indignation and then with an effort she controlled herself saying,

  “It is very unlike you, dearest, to be so prejudiced. I found Prince Otto a charming young man and I am sure when she meets him, Attila will like him very much.”

  “Well, she is not here at present, so that question will not arise.”

  “Wherever she is,” the Queen said quickly, “I must insist on her returning immediately. I have gone to a great deal of trouble over this party and it is absolutely absurd for her to miss it.”

  The King always recognised that when his wife’s voice rose, it meant that she was losing her temper and the ensuing argument between them, apart from anything else, would be undignified.

  He closed his eyes and said in a weak voice,

  “I am too tired to think about it now. I must go to sleep.”

  He was aware without being able to see her that the Queen hesitated.

  She wanted to force him to make a decision and yet as he lay with his eyes closed without speaking, she knew it would be wrong to arouse him.

  After a moment she stalked out of the room and with some difficulty closed the door quietly behind her.

  The King opened his eyes, appreciating that by this time Attila would be a long way from the Palace. Even if the Queen was so unwise as to send some of the guards to look for her, they would not find her.

  The King thought it was very kind of Father Jozsef and Attila to make such a long journey on his behalf.

  He had heard of the miracles created by St. Janos and he desperately wanted their prayers to be answered so that he could be himself again.

  It seemed impossible that the water and the food from Salem could do much for him, and yet Father Jozsef would not tell him a lie, not even to make him happy.

  He had assured him that the people of Salem were in much better health than anyone else, so there must be something in their water and land which did not exist in Valdina.

  The King thought later that night and again the next day that he really did feel a little better.

  Yet he was sensible enough to think it was too soon to be optimistic.

  *

  On the third day after Attila’s departure he was able to say to Frederik,

  “The pain in my chest is much less. I am finding it easier to breath and I am feeling much more energetic.”

  “If you ask me, Your Majesty, you are on the right road to recovery and Her Royal Highness will be jumping for joy when she gets back.”

  The King knew that this was true and a day later he could say quite honestly he felt very much better.

  He talked to Frederik about getting up.

  “The doctors are asking if they can come and see Your Majesty,” Frederik told him.

  “Oh no!” he exclaimed. “I don’t want them.”

  “That is what I think and I told them Your Majesty was taking things easy, but was feeling a bit better. It’d be a mistake to disturb you.”

  “You are quite right, Frederik, the last thing I want is to have them croaking over me and making examinations for which there is no answer!”

  He bathed in the water from Salem twice a day and drank a great deal of it.

  He also found the food which the chef cooked was more delicious than anything he had eaten previously.

  The King sent for the Senior Chef, who told him he was delighted with the quality of everything he received from Salem.

  In fact, although he paid what they asked, it was cheaper than the prices they had been paying in the City.

  The King was aware every night when the Queen came to say goodnight to him that she glanced at an inlaid chest he was using as a dressing table.

  She was looking, he knew, to see if his sleeping draught was ready for him.

  Frederik always put it on a silver tray with a glass of water, but now he threw it away every morning.

  The King had not really been well enough to climb out of bed unnecessarily, but now he was so much better he was able to walk jauntily in his own particular way to his bath.

  He would also stand gazing out of the window at the garden before he went back to bed.

  But this evening when he had had his bath, he said to Frederik,

  “I am going to get up tomorrow.”

  “Now don’t be in a hurry,” Frederik said rather like a fussy Nanny. “Your Majesty be getting better, but slow, slow be better than quick – quick – then crash!”

  “I am well aware of that, but at the same time I do feel very different! Whether it is the magic water or the delicious food from Salem, I am surely being transformed from a dying man into one who intends to live!”

  “Of course Your Majesty will live! What would Her Royal Highness the Princess do I’d like to know? She wouldn’t be happy in the Palace, that’s for sure!”

  The King was more than aware that the Queen did not like her stepdaughter and Attila, although she tried to hide it, disliked the Queen.

  ‘Women! Women!’ the King moaned to himself.

  Equally he now realised that he had made a big mistake in marrying again.

  He had been so desperately unhappy when he lost the wife he adored and he could not bear to be alone.

  Attila was too young to take her mother’s place for royal duties, and as she was working very hard with her tutors she had to go to bed early.

  She rode with him in the morning and had luncheon with him, but she was still of an age when it was thought she was too young to come down to dinner.

  This meant the King had to dine alone, or invite a courtier or Minister to join him and on the whole he found them boring as he preferred female company.

  He and Queen Anna had always looked forward to the evenings when the work of the day was over and they could be alone together.

  They liked to dine in their private sitting room and laugh at each other’s jokes.

  Then as they wanted to be closer still they would walk with their arms around each other to their bedroom.

  It had been an almost unbearable agony at night for the King to sleep alone, knowing that never again would his wife’s soft warm body be close to his.

  Princess Margit had been a friend for some time.

  A widow, she came from a small Principality with little to recommend it except they occasionally bred some rather fine horses.

  She was over thirty and had made up her mind that she would find herself ano
ther husband, who would be of far greater standing than her father and the Prince she had married earlier in a marriage of convenience.

  The Prince ruled a small Principality adjoining the one in which Margit was born. He was getting on in years, but he wanted an heir above all else.

  Princess Margit had not been asked if she wished to marry the Prince and found herself his wife almost before she had time to think about it.

  He really meant to be kind, but he was a rough and somewhat unpleasant man and she was beginning to dislike him even before their honeymoon was over.

  What was worse an heir to the Principality did not appear.

  Princess Margit was certain it was not her fault but the aged Prince blamed her not himself.

  When he had a heart attack and died, she was delighted and was now free to return to her home and her father.

  She was, however, determined to marry again and this time she decided she would choose the bridegroom herself.

  She had, of course, met King Sigismund of Valdina many times.

  She found him a most handsome and attractive man and when he lost his wife she realised this was her great opportunity.

  She managed to arrange an invitation to stay in the Palace and she told the King how sorry she was for Attila.

  Her father wished to give him a very special horse as a present. The King accepted the horse, but when it arrived, Princess Margit came with it.

  She had somehow succeeded in extending her stay in the Palace for far longer than anyone expected and made the very best of it.

  When she dined alone with the King, she made him laugh and he had not laughed since his wife died.

  She rode with him and took a great interest in his garden and only when he was present did she make a great fuss of Attila.

  The King could not remember later whether he had asked Margit to marry him or she had asked him.

  Somehow it seemed at the time the one thing which would make him just a little less miserable and he therefore agreed that they should be married.

  Actually, because he was not so much alone, his life did appear to improve a little, but he was soon aware that Margit intended to have her own way.

  It was easier to give in to her than to argue and bear the brunt of her sharp tongue. If there was one thing the King disliked, it was people who argued.

  Especially when they were women.

  It was not long before he was admitting to himself that he had made a mistake.

  Being alone was better for him than to hear Queen Margit’s voice rising almost to a shriek as she argued and argued over everything large or small which did not please her.

  Fortunately Attila was now old enough to spend more time with her father.

  She had finished with her teachers and could ride with him in the morning and unless he had some particular duty at which ladies were excluded, she would accompany him wherever he had to go.

  Unfortunately if it was anything really spectacular the Queen insisted on coming too.

  The King was intelligent enough to realise that as soon as he was ill, the Queen was plotting to take his place if he died.

  He was determined that Attila should rule Valdina on his death and he wanted to make certain that she took his place without any outward hostility.

  He had spoken about his concerns only a few days earlier to the Prime Minister.

  “I am sure Your Majesty is not going to die,” the Prime Minister said, “but if such an unfortunate occurrence for Valdina did happen, I promise I would suggest that Her Royal Highness Attila should take your Majesty’s place.”

  “I have a feeling that there might be a great deal of opposition,” the King responded sadly. “As you know my daughter is still very young and the Queen is, I think, determined that she should be accepted as my successor.”

  The King paused for a moment before he added,

  “It was indeed her great-grandmother who ruled her own Principality and was in fact most successful.”

  “So I have heard,” replied the Prime Minister, “but as Your Majesty is exceedingly popular with your subjects, I am sure they would much prefer to have the Princess on the throne rather than Her Majesty the Queen. Although it might, of course, be somewhat difficult.”

  The King was only too conscious of the difficulties and who would make them.

  He lay awake wondering what he could do about it, but as he felt so very much better now, the question would not arise and if the Queen was disappointed she could hardly say so.

  He had learned from one of his aides-de-camp that the Queen was taking a great deal of unexpected interest in the business of the Principality.

  “Her Majesty has asked to be present at the meeting of the Cabinet,” the aide-de-camp informed him.

  The King stiffened.

  It had been a tradition that once a week the Cabinet would meet in the Palace as it saved the King travelling to the Houses of Parliament – and it gave him an opportunity to discuss more private matters.

  “Has the Prime Minister agreed to her request?” the King asked.

  The aide-de-camp looked over his shoulder as if he thought someone might be listening.

  Reassured that they were alone, he said in a low voice,

  “The Prime Minister agreed to Her Majesty being present at some meetings but not all.”

  He paused and the King demanded,

  “Then what have you done about it?”

  “Well, Her Majesty insists she has to know what is going on and she has arranged a listening post behind the bookcase at the far end of the Throne Room in which, as Your Majesty knows, the Privy Council and the Cabinet always meet.”

  “Listening post!” he exclaimed in astonishment.

  “Yes, Your Majesty, that is why I thought I should tell Your Majesty.”

  “I would have been most annoyed if you had not told me.”

  “It has been very cleverly done,” the aide-de-camp explained, “and of course none of the Cabinet or the Prime Minister has the least idea that what they are debating is being overheard.”

  The King thought it was outrageous, but it was not something he could say to the aide-de-camp.

  He appreciated one point all too clearly, that if he died his daughter would have a very difficult battle to fulfil her destiny and take his place.

  It worried him and yet he had been feeling too ill to do anything about it.

  Now that he was feeling better there was one action he must undertake at once and that was to make quite certain when the meetings of the Cabinet took place at the Palace there was no chance of there being any eavesdroppers.

  Equally he felt the whole scenario was becoming a bit unpleasant and it must not be allowed to continue.

  ‘I will now get really well,’ he determined. ‘It is always the same, if you are not on your guard, people will behave in an outrageous manner.’

  However, he could not think of anyone who was behaving in an outrageous manner except for the Queen.

  It was an issue he could not discuss with her, not only because he disliked a scene of any sort, but he knew she would be very suspicious as to who had informed him.

  In consequence everyone at the Palace would suffer whether they were innocent or guilty.

  ‘I must get well. I must get well,’ the King was saying over and over to himself when the Queen came in to say goodnight to him.

  The party for Prince Otto had taken place on the previous evening despite his reservations. The Queen had told him that it had been a great success, remarking that it was a great pity he had not been present.

  “You would have enjoyed it, Sigismund, and when we danced afterwards I thought how delightful it would be if I was waltzing with you.”

  “I hope the Prince proved a suitable substitute,” the King replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  “He was delighted. He admired the Palace and said how sorry he was you were not well enough to receive him.”

  The King had talked in
confidence earlier to one of his older courtiers who had been present. He had been a friend of his for a great many years.

  “What was young Otto like?” he enquired. “I have heard some very unpleasant reports about him.”

  “I am quite certain, Your Majesty, they were not at all exaggerated.”

  The King raised his eyebrows.

  “As bad as that?”

  “Worse! He is the type of young man I would not allow any of my daughters to meet and I am only thankful that Princess Attila was staying away with her friends.”

  “What you are really saying,” said the King, “is that Prince Otto should not have been a guest in my Palace.”

  The old courtier laughed.

  “You are putting extra words into my mouth, Your Majesty, but I am not denying them!”

  He then told the King several stories about Prince Otto, which did not exactly shake him, but they did make him believe that it was a grave mistake for the Prince to have been a visitor to the Palace.

  He was determined that it would not happen again and he had no intention of Attila ever meeting such a man.

  The difficulty was that he was not certain whether the Queen was still scheming for a marriage between them.

  It was an issue he would need to face eventually and he would then put his foot down so that there would be no further argument about it.

  At the same time he was wondering if he felt well enough for a battle of that kind.

  In the following days the Queen made one or two rather vague remarks, but they made him think that she was still in contact with Prince Otto.

  ‘I will wait until Attila returns,’ the King resolved, ‘then make it very clear once and for all that he is barred from Valdina.’

  He could not help thinking that the Queen would be most annoyed and undoubtedly make an unpleasant scene.

  ‘I will wait until I am feeling a little stronger,’ the King finally decided.

  But he sensed that day was not far off.

  The Queen now came into his bedroom looking, he thought, very attractive. She was indisputably a pretty woman.

  It was only that her brain and her personality did not equal her looks.

  She settled herself down on the side of the King’s bed and took his hand in hers.