A Kiss for the King Page 15

The Officer put the lantern on a packing case.

  “I will see if I can find anything to make you more comfortable, ma’am,” he said to Anastasia.

  He went back to the other cave and by the sounds coming from it Anastasia guessed that the Officers had brought their horses into it with them.

  A moment later Captain Aznar appeared. He had a flask in his hand.

  “I thought, Sire, you might like something to keep out the cold,” he suggested. “Regrettably, I forgot to bring a glass.”

  “I dare say we shall manage, Captain.”

  Captain Aznar handed the King the flask and Anastasia saw that under his other arm he carried a blanket.

  He spread it over the straw.

  “At least it will keep you clean, ma’am,” he said. “I am afraid that in the hurry to get away we did not think to bring more than one blanket between us.”

  “I am sure we will be quite comfortable,” Anastasia smiled.

  “If there is anything you want, Sire,” Captain Aznar said to the King, “you know we will try to provide it.”

  He bowed.

  “Thank you, Aznar. There is no need for me to tell you how grateful I am.”

  “No need at all, Your Majesty.”

  He disappeared and Anastasia looked a little apprehensively at the King.

  She was not certain of his feelings. She had known he had been angry, very angry, when she had told him what his ‘friends’ had planned.

  She had thought when they rode away from the Palace that he still did not believe her, and she kept wondering what would happen if Olivia had been mistaken. Suppose there was no revolution and the whole plot had been something dreamed up by Pedro?

  Then, when she saw the fires in the City, she had known there had been no mistake. The revolution had begun and she and Captain Aznar had saved the King from humiliation and defeat.

  The King held out the flask.

  “Drink a little,” he suggested. “It will keep you from catching cold.”

  As she was anxious to please him, she obeyed, even while she disliked the taste of the fiery brandy, which seemed to sear its way through her body.

  “A little more,” the King ordered and she took another sip rather than argue.

  He drank from the flask and then set it down beside the lantern on the packing case.

  “You had better lie down, Anastasia,” he said.

  She pushed back the hood from her head and then unfastened the clasp at her neck.

  Vaguely she thought she would cover herself with it when she lay down on the blanket.

  The King sat down on one of the logs with his back to her.

  For a moment he seemed to be staring into space. Then, as she stood irresolute, looking at him, he said in a low voice,

  “You were right! I have made a ghastly mess of – everything.”

  There was so much pain in his voice that instinctively Anastasia moved towards him. Then without thinking, impulsively she put an arm round his shoulders.

  “It will be all right,” she said soothingly. “I am sure it will be all right!”

  He turned towards her and quite naturally, like a child who wants to be comforted, be turned his face against her breast.

  “How could I have been such a fool?” he asked and the self-accusation in his tone was even more poignant than the pain she had heard before.

  “You will win!” she told him confidently, “I know you will!”

  He did not answer and she felt his head heavy against her. Now with both her arms enfolding him, she thought that he was more like her son than her husband.

  She wanted to comfort him, she wanted to help him and she wanted above all to give him courage.

  But, because it was difficult to find the words, she could only hold him close against her and pray with all her heart that everything would be all right.

  Chapter Seven

  The King did not speak and after a little while Anastasia said gently,

  “I think you should rest. There will be much for you to do tomorrow.”

  As she spoke, she shivered with the cold and the King raised his head.

  “You have taken off your cloak,” he said almost accusingly. “Lie down, Anastasia, and I will cover you with it.”

  “You must – lie down – too.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to refuse her.

  Then, as she lay down on the blanket that covered the straw, he bent over to cover her with the heavy, wide Cavalry cloak, before he lowered himself to lie beside her and spread over them both his own cloak as if it was another blanket.

  For a moment they lay side by side, the light from the candle lantern flickering in the breeze and casting strange shadows on the arched ceiling of the cave.

  “It is going to get still colder as the night goes on,” the King reflected after a moment. “May I suggest, Anastasia, that you come nearer to me? The only way to avoid the chill from the snows will be for us to keep close to each other.”

  As if he sensed her hesitation, he added,

  “I am quite sure that the Officers in the outer cavern are lying against their horses. It is something we are taught to do on manoeuvres. Nights in the mountains can be bitterly cold.”

  Feeling a trifle self-conscious, Anastasia moved towards him.

  He put his arm round her and she laid her head against his shoulder, but as she did so she gave a little cry.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I hurt my cheek on one of your decorations.”

  “I will take them off and throw them away,” he said. “I have no right to them.”

  He spoke so violently that Anastasia cried,

  “No – you must not think like that! They are, I am sure, mostly Mauronian – and you can be proud of them.”

  The King did not answer and after a moment she added,

  “Whatever happens you must not be humble.”

  “Why not?” he asked harshly. “I can assure you I feel not only humble, but humiliated.”

  “You made a mistake. Your people will understand that, but they will want you to be strong and resolute. They must have someone to follow, someone they can believe in.”

  The King did not reply and after a pause she commented,

  “A strong man can have a limb amputated because it is gangrenous and he will survive, but a weak man will die – even though the rest of his body is unaffected.”

  “I trusted the Emperor,” the King said as if he spoke to himself.

  “And now you have found that he is untrustworthy. I can well understand it is very hurtful when someone whom we trust proves unworthy of our faith. But there is one thing that really matters now, that you should rid the country of the traitors and restore the pride that I am sure every Mauronian feels in his own land.”

  “Do you believe I can do it?” the King asked.

  “I know you can,” Anastasia said positively. “As I said to you on the first day we met – you are exactly what a King should be. That is the – Sovereign your people will want to follow.”

  She felt the King draw in his breath.

  Then she laid her face a little gingerly against his shoulder so that the decorations would not hurt her and felt his arm tighten around her.

  “Do you believe in me, Anastasia? Honestly and sincerely and with your whole heart?”

  “I believe in you,” she said with a solemnity that seemed to make the words sound like a vow.

  The King was silent and then he mumbled,

  “Thank you. Thank you, Anastasia.”

  There was silence again.

  Then, because even with the heavy cloak covering her, Anastasia still felt cold she instinctively moved a little closer.

  As she did so, she felt a sensation she had never known before. It was strange yet exciting, a little frightening yet wonderful.

  Almost without meaning to – obeying the impulse of her body rather than her will – she drew nearer still.

  Now her whole body was
touching his.

  She felt he was deep in introspection and because she did not wish him to be too depressed she said with a deliberate note of amusement in her voice,

  “We are certainly reversing the usual procedure in romances. This is not ‘rags to riches’, but from ‘Palace to a bundle of straw!’”

  “And certainly a very strange honeymoon.” the King added.

  “When we are old, it will be an adventure that we can recount to our grandchildren.”

  “How many are you envisaging we might have?”

  “Perhaps a dozen or so,” Anastasia said lightly. “Who knows?”

  “That is, of course, a question for you to answer. One cannot have grandchildren without first having children and one cannot have children without first making love, Anastasia.”

  He felt that she was suddenly tense and he added reassuringly,

  “However, we have other things to talk about at the moment. But before you go to sleep, I must try to thank you.”

  “Wait until it is all over,” Anastasia begged. “Perhaps it was a mistake to come away. Perhaps you should have met the rioters on the steps of the Palace and – defied them.”

  “That would have meant unnecessary bloodshed,” the King replied, “and Maurona would have been left without a Ruler.”

  “At least you are – safe.”

  “Exactly what that means we shall know tomorrow.”

  Anastasia would have said more, but before she could speak the King suggested,

  “Try to rest. You have had a long day following an exhausting wedding and an even more tiring journey. You could not have foreseen that anything like this would happen when you left the quietness and security of England.”

  “Whatever happens tomorrow,” Anastasia whispered, “I shall always be glad – very, very glad – that I came.”

  *

  She must have slept, and yet it seemed to her she had only just closed her eyes when Captain Aznar’s voice startled her into wakefulness.

  “Dawn is just breaking, Sire.”

  The King sat up and taking his arm from around Anastasia rose to his feet.

  “I am ready to leave as soon as we can see the way.”

  “I would like to make a suggestion, Sire,” Captain Aznar said.

  “Of course,” the King replied. “What is it?”

  “We have been talking,” Captain Aznar answered, “and we feel, Sire, it would be wisest for you to go on ahead to the Barracks without the Queen. We are, all of us, absolutely convinced that the Army is loyal and will do whatever you ask of them.”

  He paused and added,

  “At the same time a revolutionary spirit has been engendered in the country and there might be some soldiers who would seize this opportunity to make trouble.”

  Captain Aznar paused to glance at Anastasia.

  “We feel it would be safer if Her Majesty should join you later, Sire.”

  “I am sure you are right, Aznar,” the King answered. “In fact there is no point in Her Majesty coming to the Barracks at all. I intend to rally the Army and lead them immediately along the coast road into Sergei. There I shall restore order and imprison or drive out of our country all the insurgents and revolutionaries.”

  The King spoke with a firmness and authority that made Anastasia look at him in surprise.

  This was a very different man from the one who had felt so unhappy and humiliated the night before.

  Here was a man who was prepared to lead and assert himself – here was a man ready to command and fight.

  She rose from the blanket they had slept on and shook out the full skirts of her velvet riding habit.

  “Where do you suggest, Sire, I should take Her Majesty?” Captain Aznar asked respectfully.

  Anastasia felt from the sound of his voice that he too was surprised and relieved at the change in the King.

  “The Palace of Huesca is not far from the Barracks,” the King answered. “It has been shut up for years, but it is, I know, guarded by my father’s own Dragoon Guards. If anyone is loyal to the Monarchy, it will be they.”

  “You are absolutely right, Sire!” Captain Aznar said respectfully. “The Dragoon Guards would die for the Crown and Her Majesty will be safe at the Palace.”

  “Take Her Majesty there, Aznar, and I will join you as soon as it is possible for me to do so.”

  Anastasia longed to cry out that she wanted to be with him and that she did not wish to be sent to safety.

  She wanted to see him in action – she wanted to be there in case there should be another plot against his life, in case once again he should encounter treachery and betrayal.

  But she knew that she would only be an encumbrance. He had a man’s job to do and there was no place in it for a weak woman.

  The King picked up his Cavalry cloak and threw it round his shoulders. Then he took his hat from where he had laid it down the night before and turned to Anastasia.

  Captain Aznar had gone from the cave and they were alone.

  The King looked at her in the flickering light of the candle that had nearly gutted out.

  She had pushed back the white chiffon scarf from her head during the night and now her fair hair framed her pale face. Her blue eyes were wide and anxious as they looked up at the King.

  “Take care of yourself, my beautiful wife,” he sughed. “I shall be thinking of you, and behaving in a manner which I hope will make you proud of me.”

  Anastasia put out her hands towards him impulsively.

  “You will not take unnecessary – risks?” she begged.

  “I shall not run away from danger,” he answered, “but I shall make every effort to return to you.”

  He smiled in a manner she found irresistible.

  “I have not yet finished my battle where you are concerned,” he said softly.

  She looked up into his eyes and was very still. She thought for one moment that he might kiss her goodbye.

  Then he bent his head and raised both her hands to his lips.

  He kissed the backs of them before he turned them over and kissed the palms, first one and then the other.

  His lips were warm and hard and somehow demanding and at the touch of them she felt the same sensation as when they lay close on the straw, streaking through her almost like a flash of lightning.

  It was more intense, more thrilling than it had been before and her heart seemed to move into her throat so she could not speak.

  Then, as the King released her and turned without another word to leave the cavern, she followed him, still aware of the pressure of his lips against her skin.

  The King’s horse was standing saddled outside the entrance to the cave and three Officers were mounted and waiting.

  Only Captain Aznar was on foot and he held the bridle of the black stallion as the King picked up the reins and swung himself into the saddle.

  “Take care of Her Majesty, Aznar,” he said. “I am entrusting to you someone very precious.”

  “I am aware of that, Sire,” Captain Aznar replied.

  The King turned his head to look at Anastasia.

  In the faint grey light of dawn she seemed like a spirit from another world against the darkness of the mountain behind her.

  She might have been a spirit of spring coming up from the bowels of winter to bring the promise of hope and sunshine ahead.

  For a moment the Kings eyes lingered on her face, until with what seemed an effort he spurred his horse and followed the three Officers who were already moving away.

  With her hands clasped together, Anastasia stood watching.

  She had a sudden terror that the King might be riding out of her life and as he disappeared into the grey mist and she could see him no more, she knew that she loved him.

  It was nearly half an hour before Captain Aznar would agree to leave the caves and lead Anastasia over the mountaintop to start the descent on the other side.

  By this time dawn had broken and the valley below them was suffused wi
th sunshine, while the mountain mists were melting away with every second that passed.

  As she waited, Anastasia could only think of the King.

  She must have loved him, she thought, from the first moment she had seen him!

  He had been so utterly different from what she had expected and his face had fascinated and enthralled her so that she had blurted out the first words that came into her mind.

  And love, although she had not recognised it, had been growing within her every moment they had been together. She had never been in love before, so how could she have known that in those strange moments when it had been hard to breathe, when he had brought the colour flowing into her cheeks or made her heart seem to beat unaccountably fast, she had felt love?

  Now it was all so obvious.

  She loved him as she must have loved him on their wedding night, when she had asked him not to make love to her, as he had been ready to do.

  Would things have been very different, she asked herself, if she had let him behave as a normal bridegroom rather than lie at her side, neither touching nor kissing her?

  She felt herself thrill at the thought of his lips and she knew now that she wished inexpressibly that he had kissed her goodbye.

  She felt a sudden panic sweep over her in case she never saw him again.

  Suppose the revolutionaries killed him?

  Suppose the Army would not follow him and instead took him prisoner and handed him over to the French?

  Then she felt sure that she was torturing herself unnecessarily and she knew almost clairvoyantly that the King would win through and, as he intended, drive the French revolutionaries out of the country.

  She had admired him before, but what she felt for him this morning after he had spoken with such authority and determination was a different kind of admiration.

  Now at last, she told herself, he was in command of his own destiny, now he would rely not on his French friends, not on his Statesmen and Diplomatic advisers, but on himself.

  He would make the decisions and he would conquer, as she wanted him to do.

  “We can go now, ma’am,” Captain Aznar piped up, breaking in on her thoughts.

  Anastasia pulled her chiffon scarf over her head and allowed the Captain to help her into the saddle.

  The air was still cold and crisp because they were so high up, but there was no need for her to wear the Cavalry cloak and Captain Aznar threw it over his own saddle.