Bride to a Brigand Read online

  She had not thought to take something with her as she often did when she was climbing, firstly because she had not remembered to and secondly because she had climbed the mountain on an impulse.

  Having seen all she wanted to see, she had intended to return with the information straight to the Palace.

  Now thinking it would be very ignominious if she actually fainted, she accepted the glass of champagne the General offered her and was about to raise it to her lips when he said,

  “I think we should propose a toast – to ourselves, and to our country!”

  “My country!” Ileana corrected him because she could not help it.

  The General made a slight inclination of his head before he added,

  “It will be mine too as soon as we are married.”

  Ileana had always been glad until this moment that she had not had a brother who would naturally have succeeded her father.

  Now she wished that she could throw it in the General’s face that he would not by their marriage succeed in attaining Zokāla and he could go back to the mountains where he belonged without the spoils his evil mind was counting on.

  As it was, words were useless.

  She drank because she really needed it and felt as if the wine took away her weakness and made her feel strong again.

  The General’s eyes were on her, but she would not look at him.

  She thought that if he saw the hatred she felt for him he might later be on his guard and that would be a mistake.

  The General, having finished his champagne, took her glass from her.

  Then he held out his hand.

  “Come,” he said. “They are waiting for us to begin the ceremony!”

  As he spoke, he drew her towards the opening of the tent.

  Chapter Four

  Outside the scene had changed since Ileana had last seen it.

  Now dusk had fallen and night had come quickly as it always did in that part of the world.

  The stars were shining over the peaks of the mountains and the moon was moving up the sky.

  Ileana knew that soon the peaks of Bela and the other mountains would be turned to silver.

  What now held her attention, however, was that the whole tribe was gathered in a huge circle.

  For the first time she realised that not only the men had come with the General to the mountains, but they had also brought their women and in some cases their children.

  Everybody was dressed in what Ileana was certain was their best, and the women made brilliant patches of colour wearing traditional costumes with headdresses of flowers and ribbons that contrasted with their dark hair.

  In the centre of the circle Ileana saw that there was an improvised altar covered with a gold cloth and on it stood a cross and a great number of lighted candles.

  The Priest stood waiting wearing the vestments of the Greek Church and with his long beard he looked not only impressive but also she thought, convincingly authentic.

  To her surprise, as the General drew her forward holding her hand, they were received in silence.

  Then she realised that the ceremony that was to take place was, for those watching, as sacred as if they were in a Cathedral.

  Because she had a keen appreciation of beauty, angry though she was, she could not help approving of the exquisite setting in which she was to be married.

  With the mountains towering above them, the valley stretching away into an indefinable shadow and the stars overhead, the lighted candles on the altar were the focus of everybody’s attention.

  Somebody – she thought it was a child – put a bouquet into her hands and she saw it was made up of alpine flowers and echoed those that ornamented her gown.

  As she took it without thinking, her fingers tightened on the General’s and as he did the same she thought he was telling her that she was his captive, as surely as if he had taken her in battle.

  They walked over the dry ground until they stood in front of the Priest.

  Ileana became aware of a carpet in front of the altar and on it two velvet stools.

  The Service began and because she knew what took place in a Greek Church was very like the Services she attended in the Cathedral next to the Palace, she knew what to expect.

  The long prayers came to an end while crowns were held over their heads by two of the bandits.

  Finally the moment came when the General put a ring on her finger and she wondered as he did so, if with his eye for detail he had, doubtless by some means of his own, found out the size of her finger.

  She heard him say the words in Greek that bound them to each other for the rest of their lives and she thought scornfully that although the idea might suit him, she would somehow eventually be rid of him.

  They knelt in front of the Priest and when he had blessed them, the General drew her to her feet and those who had been watching them rose too.

  To Ileana’s surprise, they broke their silence by singing the Zokālan National Anthem.

  They sang it spontaneously and whole-heartedly, so that the music of their voices swept up into the night and seemed to touch the very peaks of the mountains.

  She realised, as they sang, that they must know the Anthem well and wondered if the General had rehearsed them.

  Because it was so unexpected and also because it told her how confident he had been of becoming ruler of her country, she hated him all the more.

  When it was finished, the General took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

  She wanted to snatch it from him, but he held it too tightly for her to do so.

  As she felt his mouth hard and insistent on the softness of her skin, her eyes blazed at him.

  Those watching took the kiss as a signal for them to break out in cheers that echoed and re-echoed around the valley.

  They cheered triumphantly until the General, having bowed to the Priest while Ileana genuflected, still holding her hand, led her back into the tent.

  As they went, children ran in front of them scattering petals of flowers and only when they had stepped inside and vanished from view did the cheering stop.

  Roughly Ileana pulled her hand away.

  She wanted to say something rude and scathing, but it was impossible to declare that the Service in which they had just taken part was anything but unusual and impressive.

  The General walked to the table on which stood the bottle of champagne from which they drunk a toast before the ceremony.

  He filled up their glasses and handing one to her saying,

  “Let me congratulate you! You came through that with flying colours!”

  Ileana did not answer. She merely sipped the champagne as if she needed its sustenance.

  The General having also drunk from his glass added,

  “We must now wait while they prepare a banquet and I imagine, as you must by now be hungry, that you will not be too particular.”

  “I admit to looking forward to having something to eat.” Ileana replied.

  The General smiled.

  “You must forgive me if I forgot that you would be used to having a meal in the middle of the day. When we are travelling, I and my people eat only at dawn and at night and it has become a habit.”

  Ileana thought this was a sensible idea, but she had no intention of saying so. Instead she said,

  “I suppose you realise that by now they will have become very concerned and agitated about me at the Palace.”

  “I anticipated that,” the General replied. “So, when I sent Olav back the way he had come, I told him to inform your aides-de-camp that you would be returning tomorrow and that they would receive orders as to how we are to be received early in the morning.”

  “And you think they will understand that sort of message sent by you?” Ileana enquired.

  “I should have thought it was quite clear, but as I have already said, the instructions I will send ahead of us will be in writing and the Prime Minister is supposed to be an intelligent man.”

  “Yo
u are sending instructions to my Prime Minister?” Ileana gasped. “How dare you do such a thing without consulting me!”

  “What I am asking is nothing very revolutionary,” the General replied, “and we have naturally to announce our marriage to our people. It would be extremely boring to do it more than once.”

  “I can see exactly what you are doing,” Ileana exclaimed. “Having married me you think you can push me on one side and that I will be a complacent wife tending the home and leaving the Affairs of State to you! You are mistaken! I have no intention of allowing you, even if you have taken over my country, to take me over as well!”

  She seemed almost to spit the words at him and her green eyes had a glint of fire in them, which echoed the lights of her hair.

  The General looked at her for a long moment before he said,

  “You look very much like a tiger-cat when you speak to me like that! I shall be interested to see if the fire in your eyes can be engendered by anything except hatred.”

  The inference was obvious and Ileana retorted,

  “Not where you are concerned!”

  “Some day,” the General said slowly, “you must tell me about the ardent young Princes, who have laid their hearts at your feet and how skilfully they made love.”

  Ileana knew as he spoke that he was mocking her and it was only with the greatest effort at self-control that she prevented herself from screaming at him.

  Instead she stated with what she hoped was a contemptuous note in her voice,

  “My feelings are my own and certainly no concern of yours!”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I should have thought, as your husband, that they were very much my concern. But this conversation, fascinating though it may be, must wait, for I think by now our wedding feast will be waiting for us.”

  As he spoke, the flaps of the tent were drawn back and, as he held out his hand to her, there was nothing Ileana could do but rise to her feet and accompany him.

  Now the scene had changed again dramatically.

  The altar had vanished and instead in front of them was a table covered by a white tablecloth decorated with flowers and set with china and cutlery in the same manner as if they were dining at the Palace.

  The crowd around them were, Ileana saw, to eat where they sat and the scene was lit not only by the moon and the stars but also by huge torches flaring up into the sky.

  They seemed to stretch a long way into the valley and now that she could see them clearly she thought there were even more men than she had supposed at first.

  There were many hundreds of them, but while they seated themselves, the women and children were standing, ready to wait on them.

  Although that was customary, Ileana’s lips curled as she thought that if that was what the General would expect from her, he was very much mistaken.

  They sat down at the table on chairs that were not only comfortable but were made from the horns of wild animals and were in consequence extremely decorative.

  As soon as they were seated, there was the sound of music and Ileana saw standing a little way from them there was a band of gypsies playing their violins and various strange instruments.

  Despite her anger, the music that she had known and loved all her life seemed to raise her heart.

  Then as the feast began, she realised the wine was being poured into magnificent golden goblets set with jewels, such as she had not expected to find in the possession of a brigand and a robber.

  ‘Doubtless they have been stolen from some wretched Nobleman who was too weak to resist him!’ she told herself scornfully.

  At the same time the wine was delicious, golden and mellow and she had to admit better than anything they could produce in Zokāla.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, the General remarked,

  “I thought you would enjoy this wine. It comes from a very special grape that I intend to introduce into Zokāla. I think it would do well in this valley if the soil is prepared for it.”

  Ileana was silent.

  She was thinking, as she had before, that she had been remiss in not having the Bela Valley, as it was called, cultivated and that in so small a country it had been a mistake to leave any land wild and unproductive.

  As dish succeeded dish, each one was more delicious than the last and, although she had no wish to make herself pleasant to the man beside her, she found it impossible not to ask,

  “When you are travelling, do you always eat as well as this?”

  “Why not?” he asked. “I dislike discomfort for discomfort’s sake. At times, naturally, especially in the winter when the snow is deep, food is scarce. But my men are skilful hunters and I make certain that what they provide is not wasted by bad cooking.”

  This was something Ileana had not expected in a brigand and she had to admit that even though she loathed the General he was obviously an educated man who appreciated comfort and elegant living.

  But if so, why had he chosen such a way of life?

  How, even as a General, a rank he had doubtless given himself, could he ever understand the complexities of Kingship?

  ‘I cannot allow him to take my father’s place,’ Ileana told herself.

  Equally she coveted the guns she could see behind them in the shadows and even more the horses that were loose in the fields on either side of the river.

  It was from the river that the fresh trout had come, which she had eaten first with a sauce that she knew contained herbs that came from the mountains, but were hard to recognise.

  There was baby lamb, so tender that it melted in the mouth and a partridge cooked as only the Hungarians, to whom it was a very special game bird, could cook it.

  When Ileana felt she could eat no more, there was a dish of wild strawberries which had just ripened and with them some strange mountain berries that were more delicious than anything she had ever tasted before.

  It made her angry to think that, good though the food was in the Palace, if she was honest, what she had eaten tonight surpassed anything produced by the chefs she had always thought were the most skilful available.

  The food the men were eating as they sat around them, many of them cross-legged, was, she was sure, just as good as theirs.

  She knew that their strength and fitness was due to their being well fed and obviously led in a manner that saved them from unnecessary privation.

  But if the General’s purpose was to show her how efficient he was, she told herself she would not be deceived.

  ‘If he intended to impress me, he has failed!’

  To finish the meal there was Turkish coffee served in the traditional handleless cups, held in gold and jewelled containers and the pot from which the coffee was poured would be, Ileana recognised, the delight of any connoisseur.

  ‘It is stolen! Of course it is stolen!’ she thought scornfully.

  Nevertheless she accepted a second cup of coffee.

  Now the table in front of them was whisked away as if by magic and into the centre of the circle came the gypsies.

  It was then the soft melody that had sounded entrancing while they were eating changed to the wild and exhilarating music to which the gypsies danced.

  The dancers came from the darkness into the light, their tambourines in their hands, the small gold bells that encircled their ankles ringing as they moved.

  Ileana had seen many gypsy dances, though her father and mother had not approved of her doing so.

  Only since her father’s illness had she been able to go openly to where they were camping to ask them to dance for her.

  What she was seeing now was very different and she knew that the gypsies must belong to a very superior tribe. She guessed that many of the women dancers were Russian.

  Their grace was indescribable, the ease with which they leapt high into the air seeming almost to fly, and their poise when they lifted their arms were worthy of any professional ballerina.

  As the great throng of brigands swayed to the rhythm o
f the violins and the dancers grew wilder and wilder, Ileana was aware that without her noticing the General had left her side.

  His strangely constructed chair was empty and she wondered if this meant that there was a possibility of her escaping.

  But when she thought of it she knew it was impossible.

  There was no sign of any horse to carry her and she was no longer on the edge of the circle as she had been at first. The bandits had closed in behind, and now she was as much the focus of their eyes as the gypsies who were dancing.

  ‘My time will come later,’ she told herself reassuringly.

  Then there was a sudden cheer that surprised her.

  As she turned her head wondering what had especially pleased the audience, she realised that the General had returned and now he looked very different.

  He was wearing black tight-fitting trousers, a white shirt with huge embroidered sleeves, and a bolero hung with gold coins that she thought, although she was not sure, was worn by every Greek bridegroom.

  There was a red satin sash tied tightly around his waist into which were thrust the knives and pistol that all brigands wore.

  His were heavily jewelled, the diamonds, rubies and emeralds glinting in the light from the torches.

  As he stepped into the circle where the gypsies were performing, the women ran towards him and as, they took him by the hand, he began to dance with them.

  “He is certainly showing off!” Ileana murmured scornfully.

  Then she had to admit that he danced as well as any gypsy.

  Never had she imagined that a man so large and so muscular could be so light on his feet or that he could fling himself into the air with the same expertise that had been part of gypsy dancing since the beginning of time.

  She knew his followers appreciated it, for they clapped and shouted and cheered and once again their voices were ringing out to fill the whole valley with their enthusiasm.

  “I hate him!” Ileana muttered beneath her breath.

  At the same time she found it impossible not to watch him and to watch too the women who enticed him with every gesture of their bodies, by the way they lifted their dark eyes to his and their arms reached out to touch him.