The Proud Princess Read online

  She could see out of the corner of her eyes that he was wearing a white tunic and she knew it was a uniform, although he would not be in any of the Regiments which her father commanded.

  Perhaps the Sáros had their own.

  She thought how ignorant she was not only of the man she was to marry but also of the part of the country he represented.

  She had lost her place in the Service and before she expected it they were actually about to make their wedding vows The man beside her was repeating his after the Archbishop,

  “I, Aladár Sebastyen Ladislas, take thee, Ilona Nandina, to my wedded wife.”

  He had a deep voice. There was something resonant about it.

  He spoke slowly, seriously and with a positiveness which made him sound sincere.

  In contrast, Ilona thought, her own voice sounded weak and helpless.

  She felt the Prince’s hand take hers to place a narrow gold ring on her third finger.

  She had a sudden moment of panic in case it was too small, and thought that, if it were, the congregation would take it as a bad omen.

  The Dabrozkans were, very superstitious about such things.

  But the ring fitted perfectly, and the manner in which he held her hand as the Archbishop joined them together was as firm and positive as his voice.

  “I now pronounce that you be man and wife together,” the Archbishop intoned above their heads.

  For the first time Ilona raised her eyes to look at the man whose wife she had become.

  For a moment she stared at him incredulously and thought she must be dreaming.

  Then she realised that far from marrying someone unknown to her and whom she had never seen, she had in fact not only seen Prince Aladár before, but he had actually kissed her lips!

  His blue eyes regarded her quizzically. Then with her heart thumping in her breast, she forced herself to attend to the rest of the Service.

  When it was over Ilona turned to curtsey to the Kin; while the Prince bowed his head ceremoniously.

  But as they did so her father rose from the carved seat on which he had been sitting during the service and walked ahead of them down the aisle.

  It was an unprecedented action, but Ilona knew that he did so to show not only the congregation but also her husband that he was the Monarch!

  He was the most important person present, even at the marriage of his daughter!

  The Prince had offered Ilona his arm and she took it, moving at his side down the aisle behind her father, determined that there should be no expression on her face save one of happiness.

  She forced a smile to her lips, she bowed to the people on the left side of the aisle, knowing they were finding it difficult having curtsied to the King to curtsey again so quickly to herself and her husband.

  The King had already left in his carriage before they reached theirs.

  It was not the same vehicle in which she had arrived at the Cathedral. It was also open, but now the hood and the high seat on which the coachman was seated were decorated with white flowers.

  There were white plumes on the horses’ heads and their harness was of white, the accoutrements of gold.

  It was so pretty and so ornamented that as Ilona stepped into it she knew that this carriage had not come from her father’s stables but must in fact belong to the Prince.

  There had been cheers when she entered the Capital, but it was nothing to the enthusiasm with which the crowds greeted them as Ilona and Prince Aladár left the Cathedral for the Palace.

  There seemed too, to be more flowers, more waving handkerchiefs, more flags, and a more genuine welcome in the voices of those who acclaimed them.

  She glanced shyly at the Prince but saw that he was intent on waving to the people on his side of the carriage, and because she knew it was expected of her she concentrated on those on her left.

  There were four horses pulling the lightweight vehicle and it did not take them long to cover the distance from the City and to climb the steep hill up to the Palace itself.

  Behind them there was a long line of carriages bringing all the dignitaries and nobles, landlords and clergy of Dabrozka to the Reception.

  The courtyard of the Palace was full of soldiers and as the carriage drew up outside the door the Prince said,

  “I think it is intended that we should inspect the Guard of Honour!”

  “Yes, of course,” Ilona answered.

  She looked at him and now there was no mistaking the amused expression in his eyes and the smile on his lips.

  “We have met before,” he said.

  Because she thought he was remembering that he had kissed her, the blood rose in her cheeks and her eye-lashes fluttered, then lay very dark against her white skin.

  She had the feeling that he was laughing at her embarrassment.

  Then they were walking down the lines of the Guard of Honour. The Prince stopped occasionally to speak to one of the soldiers while, as the Officer in Charge was Major Kassa, Ilona told him how smart the troops were, knowing it would please him.

  By the time they reached the Throne Room where the Reception was to be held, the mirrors were reflecting the colourful and distinguished guests and the very chandeliers seemed to tinkle with the excited chatter of their voices.

  There was a six tiered cake in front of the dais on which stood the thrones, and Ilona wondered how the Chefs of the Palace had managed to complete so elaborate a cake, so quickly.

  She thought that she must remember to thank them and also to be quite sure that Magda had a piece.

  But it was almost impossible to think of anything except the people crowding round her offering their congratulations.

  Many of them spoke of her mother and how much she had been missed, but some stared at her critically and she was quite certain that they came from Sáros land on the other side of the river.

  The Reception seemed to go on interminably and Ilona was glad when Colonel Ceáky brought her a sandwich to eat and a glass of champagne.

  “We had hoped that His Majesty would propose the health of the bride and bridegroom,” the Colonel said in a loco voice which only she could hear, “but he seems to have disappeared!”

  “Perhaps it would be best to ask the Prime Minister to do so,” Ilona answered.

  She had the feeling it would be unwise to press her father to take an active part in the celebrations.

  Colonel Ceáky nodded and a moment later the Prime Minister stepped onto the dais in front of the thrones.

  He held a glass of champagne in his hand.

  “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, Your Highness, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began. “This is a very happy day in the history of Dabrozka. I believe that from this moment the problems and the difficulties which have been ours for the past few years will be swept away.

  “There will be no more divisions, no more partitions, neither in our country, nor in our hearts. Prince Aladár and his beautiful wife will bring a new spirit to the land we love.” He paused to say impressively,

  “May we, each of us, make our contribution, not only in words and actions but also with our very hearts and souls.”

  The Prime Minister spoke with such sincerity that it was very moving.

  Then he raised his glass to say,

  “I propose the toast of the Bride and Bridegroom, God give them many years of happiness together and bring us what we need so greatly - peace!”

  There was a cry of “The Bride and Bridegroom!”

  Glasses were raised, the toast was drunk.

  Taking Ilona by the hand the Prince stepped onto the dais.

  “I wish to thank the Prime Minister on behalf of my wife and myself and assure him that we dedicate ourselves to the service of Dabrozka. There will be no more enmity between the Radáks and Sáros and the divisions which have kept us apart for so long no longer exist.

  “I believe that with your help we can create a new country, as we begin a new family life which we hope will set an example
to generations of future Dabrozkans, of peace and prosperity.”

  Everybody clapped and a number of men cheered as the Prince turned to Ilona and raised her hand to his lips.

  She felt his mouth hard and insistent on her soft skin and felt a little tremor go through her.

  Then as she looked up at him, feeling she should say something but not certain what it should be, there was a voice behind her.

  “His Majesty wishes to speak to Your Royal Highness and to you, Sir!”

  It was one of her father’s Aides-de-Camp and Ilona fancied there was something hostile in his tone.

  She glanced at him apprehensively, but he walked ahead, leading them through an adjacent door into one of the antechambers which adjoined the Hall of Mirrors.

  The King was waiting for them alone and one look at the expression on his face made Ilona’s heart feel as if it had stopped beating.

  He was glowering in the same way as he had glowered at her yesterday. As the door closed behind them he said harshly to the Prince,

  “I heard what you said!”

  “I hope it pleased you, Sire.”

  “Pleased me?” the King ejaculated. “Did you think it would please me that you should speak as if you intend to sit on my throne and breed children who will usurp my position?”

  “I have no wish to usurp your position, Sire,” the Prince replied. “But I understood that my wife was to be your heir and when the time comes to reign over Dabrozka –”

  “When the time comes!” the King said. “And by that time - you upstart - you will be dead.”

  Ilona felt the Prince stiffen beside her, but before he could speak the King went on, working himself into one of his tyrannical rages as he shouted,

  “I understand only too well what is in your crafty mind. You think that if I will accept you I will accept your children! You are mistaken! You will not touch my daughter, and if you dare to do so I will kill you with my bare hands!”

  He pointed his finger derisively as he yelled,

  “You are nothing but a common bandit! The so-called Princes of Sáros are no better than the rebellious peasants over whom they rule!

  “If you want a woman, then take one from among the dirty gypsies you have encouraged to break my laws, and who are undoubtedly the right companions for a man of your sort! Maybe your father was a gypsy, if the truth be known.”

  The King was crimson in the face and spitting with rage as he said,

  “I have been forced - yes, forced - to give you my daughter in marriage. But make no mistake, it is only a farce, a charade to deceive the Russians! It is not an invitation for you to exercise your filthy lust or to treat her as if she were not your superior by birth and breeding.”

  Shaking his fist now he shouted,

  “She loathes you, as I do, and to her you are nothing but a lackey! If I had my way, I would have you whipped from this Palace and hanged as the prisoners you released the other night will be hanged as soon as they are caught!”

  Ilona had stood mesmerised into immobility by her father’s tirade.

  She felt as if his grotesquely contorted face and his snarling voice hypnotised her so that she could not move and could not even protest at what he was saying.

  Then she felt the Prince take her arm and move her towards the door which led not into the Hall of Mirrors but into the corridor.

  As they reached it and the King realised what they were about, he shouted,

  “Come back! I have not finished with you, yet, Sáros. I have more to say - more I wish you to hear!”

  The Prince turned and bowed his head correctly. As if he told her to do so, Ilona curtseyed. Then he opened the door and they were in the passage.

  He drew her towards the Great Hall and because she thought he did not know the way she tried to turn left to the Throne-room.”

  “We are leaving!”

  The Prince’s voice was quite expressionless, but when she looked at his face she saw his eyes were hard and his chin was square-set.

  She could feel the waves of anger emanating from him and her heart which seemed to have stood still during her father’s outburst began to beat apprehensively.

  She wanted to protest, to suggest they should go back and at least explain what had happened to the Prime Minister. Then she thought it was quite unnecessary.

  He would doubtless learn from the King himself what had happened, but in any case it would not be hard for him to guess at the reason for their precipitated departure.

  They reached the Hall and the servants on duty looked at them in surprise.

  “My carriage!” the Prince ordered.

  The Major-Domo hurried through the open door and descended the steps to call up the flower-decorated carriage which was waiting in the shade. The coachmen had obviously not expected to be required for some time.

  Hastily it was driven to the bottom of the steps and as if she was an automaton with no will of her own Ilona stepped into it. The Prince sat down beside her.

  There were no guests to see them go, no cries of good luck, no flower petals or rice.

  The sentries came to attention, the coachmen whipped up the horses and they started down the drive.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ilona tried to apologise to the Prince but it was impossible to find words.

  She was stunned at her father’s behaviour and numb to the point when her brain would not work.

  She felt just as helpless and subservient as when he had whipped her, and all she could think of for the moment was that her back was hurting her almost intolerably.

  “I must speak to the Prince - I must say how sorry I am,” she told herself, but even as her lips opened to form the words they reached the Palace gates.

  There were cheers and cries from the crowds congregated outside, waving from the roadside, shouting from the trees up which they had climbed.

  Automatically Ilona began to bow and wave her hand and she knew that it would be impossible to make herself heard by the Prince above the noise.

  The road was lined with people all the way to Vitózi, and when they reached the bridge over the river it was almost impossible for the horses to pass through the crowds on either side of it.

  Cries of ‘Good luck!’ and ‘Good wishes!’ accompanied the flowers that were thrown into the carriage, and there were showers of rose petals and rice which was quite painful when it struck Ilona’s face.

  But there was no doubt of the general goodwill and excitement, and on the other side of the river the enthusiasm rose to a crescendo.

  Now they were on Sáros land and Ilona realised it had not been her imagination that the citizens here looked more prosperous and certainly happier.

  There was a Square not far from the bridge and in the centre of it a statue.

  It was garlanded with flowers and Ilona could see by the inscription on its base that it had been erected to a Prince of Sáros.

  Here the crowds surged round the carriage and it was impossible for the horses to move.

  “Speech! Speech!”

  The cry was taken up first by one group and then another until the hundreds of people in the Square were all intoning the same words.

  The Prince rose to his feet in the carriage. Then as if he remembered that the women would wish to see Ilona also, he offered her his hand to assist her to her feet.

  She knew her fingers were trembling as she placed them in his.

  She rose to stand beside him and there was a sudden expectant hush over the crowd as they realised he was about to address them.

  He said almost the same words that he had spoken in the Throne Room, except that he finished by saying,

  “Peace is possible only with your help and your co-operation. There must be no more fighting amongst ourselves. We are threatened by an enemy from outside this country and only if we are united as one people can we survive!”

  “He loves Dabrozka,” Ilona told herself.

  For the first time she wondered if the idea of uniting
the country by their marriage had perhaps come from him.

  The horses moved on but there was still no question of their having any kind of conversation with each other.

  The roads were already lined with people and many of those who had been in the City accompanied them by running beside the carriage, and behind it, still shouting and cheering even when they climbed the steep hill which led to Sáros Castle.

  Ilona had her first glimpse of it through the blossom-laden acacia trees and saw it was far more beautiful than she had expected it to be.

  There was a high tower on one side, and the building was also decorated with small turrets, arched doorways and ornamental stone carvings which made it seem like a castle in a fairy tale.

  There were no walls to enclose it and make it seem a fortification like the Palace.

  Instead there were shrubberies of rhododendrons and azaleas, crimson, yellow and white, and the purple of the Judas trees contrasted strikingly with the green leaves of the myrtle and the silver-grey of the olive.

  The soldiers lined up outside the Castle were wearing a uniform very different to those commanded by the King, and Ilona realised that the Prince had his own Army.

  It explained why her father had not attacked the Sáros land as he might have done if there had been no troops there to oppose him.

  ‘No wonder Papa hates the Sáros!’ she thought.

  The carriage drew up outside the Castle door, and as soon as Ilona alighted the Prince presented to her his household staff and the Officers in charge of the troops.

  Both men and women seemed to be much younger than those Ilona had met at the Palace.

  It was pleasing to be aware that the Officers, extremely handsome in their smart uniforms, had an unmistakable gleam of admiration in their eyes when they were presented to her.

  They walked into the Castle and Ilona saw that it was not at all awe-inspiring or overpowering like the Palace.

  There were many heads of wild animals on the walls besides portraits of beautiful women and handsome men who she knew must be the Prince’s ancestors.

  She only had a quick glance before she raised her eyes to her husband, wondering apprehensively if he was still as angry as he had been when they left the Palace.