The Proud Princess Read online

  ‘It is impossible!’ she thought.

  Impossible that they should actually be asking her to marry a man she had never seen, a man of whom she knew nothing except that her father loathed him.

  In Paris everyone had discussed love, the girls at the Convent had giggled about men and talked of being married as if when it had happened they would move into some special Paradise.

  Ilona had not listened to them very attentively.

  But now she knew she had thought that someday she might fall in love and since she was no longer a person of any particular importance she would not have to submit to an arranged marriage.

  It was usual in France, she knew, but she was not French. She had read and listened to the Hungarian legends and their stories of lovers who defied the whole world and found a rapturous happiness.

  Without discussing it with her mother or indeed mentioning it to anyone, Ilona had decided that she would never marry until she fell in love.

  She had a child-like confidence, despite their quiet way of life, that one day a man whom she could love and who loved her would come into her life.

  She had always imagined him coming to her like a crusading Knight riding a fiery half-tamed horse over the green steppes and nothing would matter but their ecstatic love for each other.

  But from such romantic dreams she was suddenly awakened to harsh reality.

  She understood all too well what the Prime Minister was saying.

  She knew without his elaborating on the subject that it would in fact be the only way for Dabrozka to find peace.

  “But why must it be me?” she asked herself despairingly.

  It was a question men and women had asked since the beginning of time when they were confronted with a personal issue of the heart.

  The answer was quite simple.

  There was no-one else!

  Her father had already chosen her as the heir to the throne of Dabrozka.

  Prince Aladár Sáros, although he was not Royal, wielded power and authority in his own territory which equalled that of the monarchy.

  There was no other way by which the feuds, the enmity and the hatreds of the divided country could be dissolved.

  “I will not agree!” the King said stubbornly.

  “Well well, Your Majesty,” the Prime Minister said briskly. “In which case we can only withdraw to await the arrival of our enemies.”

  “How can you be so sure that this is what the Russians are planning?” the King enquired.

  “We have, as Your Majesty knows, our agents in Russia, besides the gypsies whom you despise,” the Prime Minister replied.

  “You can rely upon their information?”

  “What they have told us has been confirmed in a dozen different ways,” the Prime Minister replied. “The trouble makers we have arrested in the City have, when they are questioned, confirmed our suspicions one hundred percent!”

  The King was silent. Then one of the Delegation said tentatively,

  “Would it not be in order, Sire, to ask the Princess if she would be prepared to save her country?”

  Again everybody’s eyes were turned towards Ilona and she had the feeling that her father too was waiting for her answer. For a moment she felt she must cry out her repudiation of such an idea and the horror that it gave her.

  Then she remembered her mother and the teaching which had been instilled into her from childhood.

  “We must always trust God to guide us to do what is right,” the Queen had said. “We are not wise or clever enough to decide great problems for ourselves. God always knows best.”

  “Did God think it right that you should leave Papa?” Ilona had asked.

  “I prayed about it for many years,” her mother answered. “Not a day passed when I did not go down on my knees and ask for God’s guidance.”

  She gave a sigh which seemed to come from the very depths of her being.

  “I thought, in fact I was sure, that God wanted me to do my duty. I was married to your father. I had taken the vows of obedience and I intended to fulfil them.”

  “What happened, Mama?” Ilona asked.

  “When your father beat you for some quite minor offence until you became unconscious, I knew as if I heard a voice speak from Heaven that I must take you away to safety.”

  She made a little gesture as she said simply,

  “It was no longer a question of my duty only to my husband, but my duty towards my own child who could not protect herself.”

  The Delegation was waiting, and almost as if her mother spoke for her Ilona heard her voice say quietly,

  `I will do what you – require of me – if it will save –our country!”

  There was a sound of relief which seemed to come from all twelve men standing in front of her.

  “We can only thank Your Royal Highness from the very depths of our hearts,” the Prime Minister said.

  “And what about Aladár Sáros?” the King enquired. “Have you obtained his consent to this crazy idea? Or are you so sure he will come crawling up the hill to the Palace on all fours to get himself accepted as my son-in-law?”

  There was such an unpleasant tone in her father’s voice that Ilona felt ashamed.

  How right her mother had been, she thought, that one should never parade one’s innermost feelings and that one should keep control of one’s emotions.

  “It was our first duty, Sire, to put the proposition before our King before we discussed it with anyone else,” the Prime Minister answered.

  “Most obliging of you!” the King remarked sarcastically.

  “But now, when we leave here, we will go at once to Sáros Castle. Since the Prince is deeply concerned about the position in which this country finds itself, and since he is as aware as we are of the dangers confronting us, I am certain he will agree.”

  “He would be a fool if he did not!” the King sneered.

  The Prime Minister ignored the remark.

  “There is one further point I must put before Your Majesty, and that is the importance of speed. The reports I have before me are that the Russians have already drawn up plans to enter this country within the next few days.”

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  “We have already apprehended two men in the City carrying dynamite with which they intended to blow up Parliament, and also the bridge over the river!”

  “God Almighty! What the hell are the police doing? And we have an Army!”

  “It is impossible for either of the forces you mention, Sire, to keep control of undesirable aliens, when they are already fully occupied in keeping our own people from each other’s throats!”

  There was a truth in this which the King could not gainsay and the Prime Minister went on,

  “I therefore suggest, with your agreement, Sire, and Her Royal Highness’s that we arrange for the marriage to take place the day after tomorrow in order to resolve the situation as quickly as possible!”

  It was with difficulty that Ilona prevented herself from crying out in denial.

  It was one thing to discuss marriage with a stranger - a man she had never ever seen. But to be pitch-forked into it with hardly time to breathe was something she had not foreseen or imagined.

  She did not speak and after a moment the King growled,

  “If it has to happen I suppose there is no point in hanging about.”

  “Very well, Sire. If you will leave it with me I will make all the arrangements, and with the Princess’s agreement the announcement will be made to-night by Criers in the Market Place.”

  He glanced at Ilona as he added

  “The decorations will go up to-morrow. The Archbishop will be invited to conduct the ceremony, the details of the celebration can be discussed later.”‘

  “God knows what we have to celebrate!” the King ejaculated.

  “It is the only possible way to save Dabrozka,” the Prime Minister insisted.

  “Then get on with it, damn you!” the King said with a sudden b
urst of anger, “and get out - all of you! I do not want to see your ugly faces, knowing you are crowing over me because you think you have brought off a coup!”

  He rose to his feet as he shouted,

  “I warn you - no good will come of this marriage, and as far as I am concerned a million Russians would be preferable to one Sáros!”

  He left the dais and stamped out of the Throne Room.

  Ilona looked at the Prime Minister. Then feeling embarrassed and unsure of herself she rose.

  He crossed to her side and taking her hand in his raised it to his lips.

  “May I thank you, Princess,” he asked, “for your courage, and for showing that while you have been away from us for so long you still have your country’s well-being at heart?”

  “I – thought – to-day,” Ilona said hesitatingly, “that some of the – happiness I remembered had – left our people.”

  “You will bring it back,” the Prime Minister said reassuringly. “I am as certain of that as I am certain that you and you alone can save us.”

  “Is the situation really as bad as you described to the King?”

  “If anything it is worse!” the Prime Minister admitted. “His Majesty hates the gypsies, but because they pass through one country to another and because they have a kinship with other gypsies of all nationalities, we have known for the last two years what the Russians were planning.”

  “Russia is – so large and we are so – small,” Ilona said. “Why should they want us?”

  “Perhaps we are Naboth’s vineyard,” the Prime Minister said with a faint smile. “Anyway we know they have been working feverishly waiting for an opportunity to strike and Prince Julius’s death made them think that their hour had come!”

  “They did not expect my father to send for me?” Ilona asked.

  “I think if they ever knew of your existence, they had forgotten about it,” the Prime Minister replied.

  “Then my – my marriage will come as a surprise.”

  It was difficult to say the word ‘marriage’ and it seemed to stick in her throat.

  “A great surprise! And a very unwelcome one for the Russian Generals.”

  Then in another tone of voice the Prime Minister added,

  “And now may I present to Your Royal Highness my colleagues, all of whom, I know, are as grateful to you as I am for your understanding.”

  As they were introduced by the Prime Minister, each man in turn kissed Ilona’s hand.

  When she looked at them she realised they were all responsible, serious-minded men who would not have been deceived by some spurious tale of invasion unless it were true.

  Then, because they had a lot to do, the Prime Minister took his Delegation away and Ilona, avoiding the rooms where she might find her father, ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

  As she expected, Magda was there and she ran across the room to throw her arms round the old maid.

  “Magda! Magda!” she cried. “I am to be married to a – man I have never – seen – whom Papa hates and who he swears killed Julius! Oh, Magda, I am afraid – terribly, terribly afraid!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Will Papa see me, Magda?” Ilona asked.

  “The Aide-de-Camp said the King will see no-one, M’mselle.”

  Ilona walked across the Boudoir which adjoined the Queen’s bed-room and stood looking out of the window.

  Down in the valley she could see flags being hoisted in the City. They were blowing on the warm wind and silhouetted against the white buildings in brilliant patches of colour.

  “It is absurd!” she said. “I must find out what is happening and what arrangements have been made for tomorrow.”

  Magda did not reply and Ilona knew from the expression on the old woman’s face that she was worried.

  “It will be all right, Magda,” she said reassuringly. “I am sure it will be all right.”

  She was speaking as much to encourage herself as her maid, and as she spoke the fear and apprehension of what lay ahead of her mingled with the shock that she had received the night before.

  After the Deputation had gone she had expected that her father would avoid her for some hours until he had recovered from his anger.

  In a way she could understand what he was feeling and how it was so humiliating, after all he had said about Prince Aladár to be forced to accept him as a member of his family.

  At the time Ilona felt that her father must realise that the country came first and the person who was really making a sacrifice was herself.

  She tried to feel, without any conviction, that what was happening was natural and was only to be expected by one of Royal blood.

  What was the difference between marrying Prince Aladár of Dabrozka or a Prince from another part of Europe?

  At least he was not a foreigner and they were of the same nationality.

  ‘I suppose it is because I have lived like a commoner for so long,’ Ilona thought, ‘that the idea of an arranged marriage is so terrifying.’

  She admitted frankly to herself that was how she felt, but she knew her mother would be ashamed of her if she showed any apprehension or distress to the outside world.

  Perhaps in their desire to save Dabrozka she and Prince Aladár would together find a secure foundation on which to build their married life.

  What made everything so difficult was that she knew nothing about him and there was in fact no-one in the Palace she could question.

  She felt it would be undignified to ask for information from Colonel Ceáky or any of the other Court Officials.

  What was more, she was quite certain that if they were part of her father’s entourage they would have the same feelings about the Sáros as he had.

  “I shall just have to wait and see,” Ilona told herself with a wry smile.

  At the same time she was determined to discuss not only the Prince, but also the whole history of the Sáros with her father.

  It might anger him, he would doubtless be abusive and denounce the Prince as violently as he had done in the Throne Room.

  But it was best to be prepared, best to know the worst of what lay ahead, rather than remain in complete ignorance.

  During the afternoon she walked in the gardens of the Palace and spent the rest of the day inspecting the rooms which she had not seen since she was a child.

  She had forgotten what a magnificent Library her grandfather, who had been a very erudite man, had collected.

  Or that her great grandfather had been interested in Greek culture and had a collection of statues, urns and vases which she was sure would have been greatly appreciated in Paris.

  Her mother’s old friends would have enjoyed many of the pictures by great Masters which hung on the walls of the Salons and decorated the wide corridors.

  These were also embellished with suits of armour fashioned in gold and silver, which had been worn in past centuries by the Kings of Dabrozka.

  That the treasures the Palace contained were well arranged was due, Ilona knew, to her mother’s good taste.

  Hungarian by birth, the Queen was well read and had an exceptional knowledge of antiques.

  Because of her mother’s love of history which she had imparted to her daughter, Ilona found that her tour through the Palace was almost like turning the pages of a book.

  She only wished she had someone with her to whom she could ask questions, especially with regard to the lovely old icons which had come from Russian and of which there were a great number.

  There was so much to see and so much to interest her that she realised that it was growing late and she should be thinking of dressing for dinner.

  There was still no sign of her father and she had gone to her bedroom expecting they would dine together at the same hour as they had the previous evening.

  Magda was waiting for her.

  “I thought, M’mselle, you would like to dine in your Boudoir tonight rather than go downstairs to the Dining Room.”

  “Am I alone?”
Ilona asked. “Can I not dine with my father?”

  “No, M’mselle!”

  “Why not? Is he still angry?”

  Magda hesitated before she answered,

  “He has made other arrangements, M’mselle.”

  “Other arrangements?” Ilona queried. “You mean that he is dining with someone else?”

  “Yes, M’mselle!”

  There was something in the way Magda spoke which told Ilona there was something mysterious about her father’s dinner-party.

  “You know something which you have not told me, Magda,” she said. “Why should there be a mystery about the person whom Papa has invited to dinner?”

  Magda avoided her eyes.

  “Don’t trouble your head, M’mselle. You should have no knowledge of such women. They’re a disgrace - that’s what they are!”

  Ilona remembered Magda using much the same words about the brilliantly attired ladies driving in the Bois.

  She was silent for a moment, then she said quietly,

  “You mean that – Papa has a – a – lady-friend?”

  “If that’s what you wish to call it,” Magda replied sourly. “It’s what your poor mother had to suffer year after year!”

  Ilona had looked at the maid with wide eyes.

  Now she began to understand some of the things her mother had said inadvertently about her life before she left Dabrozka.

  It was not only that the Queen had been physically assaulted, it was something deeper which had left a scar that could never be erased.

  “Women of that sort!”

  Like most children, Ilona had never expected her parents to be associated with immorality.

  She knew of course that the French were always writing of love and lovers, and that Louis Napoleon had a succession of mistresses who were whispered about and discussed by every Parisian high or low.

  But such things had never concerned her personally, and she had never imagined that her father, however unpredictable he might be, would be attracted by any woman other than her mother.

  Now she saw how naïve and foolish it was of her to expect anything else.

  The Dabrozkans were a red-blooded passionate race, their songs, their music and their dancing were all as fiery and as temperamental as their horses.