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  “Thank you,” she said, placing a silver coin on the table. Lulé stared down at it.

  “I shall buy a bonny ribbon,” she declared.

  Ariana gave a wry nod. She knew Lulé meant that she would purchase a ribbon for Bonnie as a present from her erstwhile Mistress. She turned to leave and turned back again as she heard Lulé call to her,

  “May your marriage be a blessing, Mistress.”

  The stricken look that then crossed Ariana’s face in response spoke volumes.

  Lulé registered the distress before looking down.

  “Shall I convey your good wishes?” she whispered.

  Ariana nodded blindly, before stumbling out behind Gezim from the booth. She stood outside trying to blink back tears in the bright sunlight.

  Gezim tugged at her sleeve.

  “Let’s go, Mistress.”

  The Prince was waiting impatiently at the hostelry. He had completed his business with the dignitaries and was eager to depart.

  “I am sure that you have now seen enough of our little town,” he commented.

  Ariana did not look directly at him, fearful that he would notice her tear-stained cheeks.

  “Very much. It has a great deal of life in it.”

  He did not seem interested in her observations.

  “I take it you are not hungry?” he asked.

  “We ate some sweetmeats at the Fair.”

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  He moved on, seemed to recover his manners and crooked his arm for Ariana to take.

  As they settled into their seats, a man in a ragged military coat regaled the Prince from the roadside,

  “Why, comrade, I am glad to see you alive!”

  The stranger did not appear hostile, yet the Prince drew back from him in horrified alarm.

  “Who are you, man? I don’t know you.”

  “Not know me?” The stranger’s face clouded over. “When we shared a billet together for a good year in the Turkoman’s Army?”

  The Prince paled and called out to the coachman,

  “Drive on!”

  The carriage shot off, nearly toppling Gezim from her seat and leaving the astonished stranger in its wake.

  Ariana glanced questioningly at the Prince, but the set of his jaw warned her that it was better not to refer to the incident.

  It was just impossible, though, not to surmise that the stranger had mistaken the Prince for Lorenc. In which case she had discovered something more about the man she loved – that he had served in the Turkoman’s Army.

  She turned her gaze to the mountains and almost at once her heart gave such a leap that she thought it would soar out of her breast.

  There, on a rugged outcrop, she spied the outline of a figure on a white horse.

  A blink and the vision was gone, but she hugged it to her all the way home, convincing herself that the figure was Lorenc and that he knew it was she in the tiny carriage far below.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Prince was out hunting.

  Ariana had been awakened at dawn by the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses.

  Rising and drawing on a shawl she had gone to the window and looked down.

  There were about twelve huntsmen below including the Prince.

  She realised that she had not seen so many people at Castle Dukka before and the Prince had warned her that the huntsmen would return to dine with him and she would be expected to attend.

  Since the trip to Glinica and the meeting with Lulé at the Fair, Ariana had felt sick with longing for Lorenc and this longing was exacerbated by her daily encounter with his mirror image.

  There were times when she desired to throw herself into Stefan’s arms, simply because he looked as he did.

  Yet whenever Stefan did embrace her, his bloodless lips made her shudder with revulsion.

  He had questioned Ariana about the fortune-teller in a manner that suggested to her that Gezim had made an unfavourable report to him on the subject.

  He wanted to know what the gypsy woman had told her and by protesting innocent curiosity and by repeating word for word what she knew that Gezim had overheard, Ariana managed to allay the Prince’s suspicions.

  Nevertheless she wished that she could be free of her maid, whose spying nature she detested.

  She decided that henceforth she would slip away from Gezim and Bujar as often as possible. She could not leave Castle Dukka and its grounds without either of them accompanying her as chaperone, but within its bounds she was surely free to wander.

  While the Prince was on his hunt, Ariana put some food into a handkerchief and hurried away to explore the estate. This proved to be vaster than she had supposed.

  Indeed it was hard to know where the estate ended and the surrounding landscape began.

  Sitting now on the bank of a stream to eat her slices of cold hock and black bread, Ariana realised that she had not felt so free since first setting foot in Castle Dukka.

  The Castle was a prison and the Prince her jailer.

  Dukka was in so remote a part of the country that there was no way she could flee. Even if she did escape from The Castle, where would she go?

  The Prince had paid for her. He considered her his property and he would pursue her to the ends of the earth.

  Seeing a pair of black swans appear on the water, Ariana threw pieces of bread to them. They circled warily and then stooped their graceful necks to eat.

  Ariana gazed sadly at them. Swans paired for life, but each chose the other one freely, whilst she had allowed herself to be bartered over and sold.

  “Lorenc!” His name now escaped her lips, almost despite herself, but loud enough for the swans to raise their heads from the water and stare her way.

  “Lorenc!” she cried again carelessly in despair and it then seemed as if the sound hovered in the air like the dragonflies over the stream.

  Another sound was returned to her like an echo, a soft mocking call from amidst the trees.

  “Lorenc!”

  Ariana leapt in shock to her feet. Who was listening to her and watching her? Who felt compelled to mock her, albeit so gently? Although the voice had been indistinct, she was certain it was that of a woman.

  “Who is there?” she demanded angrily. “Who is spying on me? Gezim?”

  There was no answer, but she glimpsed a flash of scarlet and then the whinny of a horse.

  Whoever it was had mounted and was gone.

  If it was someone with a horse, it was not Gezim nor, she was certain, could it be Bujar, neither of them was a skilled rider and besides she had not seen either of them wear scarlet.

  Shaken, Ariana made her way back to The Castle. Was there yet another creature of Prince Stefan whose duty it was to watch her every step?

  She would not confront the Prince on the issue, she was too proud, but the life that lay ahead for her lost even more of its dubious lustre.

  She just could not bear the thought of marriage to Stefan and wondered to herself that she had ever found any delight in such a prospect.

  That evening she donned the russet gown that Bujar had laid out for her and standing at the mirror, as Bujar tightened the laces at the back, she blushed to see how tight and low-cut the bodice was.

  “Bujar, I am – not at all comfortable in this dress. Is there another I might wear?” she asked.

  “This is the one that Prince Stefan chose,” returned Bujar curtly.

  Ariana bit her lip. If she thought about it, in the mountains she had been seen in more revealing dresses. But it had seemed so natural to bare one’s limbs to the sun.

  And the eyes that beheld her had not sickened her. It was the mere thought of Prince Stefan’s gaze, ever more proprietary, that made her tremble at her own reflection.

  Turning away from the mirror, she picked up a lace stole with the intention of draping it over her bosom. With an annoyed click of her tongue Bujar snatched the stole from her hand.

  “You will appear as he wishes,” she sa
id angrily.

  Ariana descended the stairway with her heart in her mouth. From afar she could hear the raucous voices of the huntsmen gathered in the dining hall.

  The Prince had wanted them seated at table before Ariana’s arrival.

  The doors to the dining hall opened before her and she stepped forward. The men at table turned their heads and then fell silent.

  Ariana hesitated on the threshold, overcome with trepidation.

  The faces before her could well be considered the superior of those faces that had greeted her every morning at the mountain hideaway. These men boasted no rugged beards or stubble, but oiled whiskers and trim moustaches.

  They did not wear coloured handkerchiefs but silk cravats. Though they had not formally dressed for dinner, their hunting jackets were cut of the finest cloth and their knee-high boots, although spattered with mud, were of the softest leather.

  These were gentlemen, not brigands. Yet their gaze was less kind and more crudely appraising of her than she had ever seen on the faces of her kidnappers.

  The Prince rose and beckoned her forward.

  “Gentlemen, my fiancée,” he announced.

  As Ariana moved forward to her seat by the Prince, the guests rose, kicking back their chairs. She heard their comments, as if assessing the features of a horse at a Fair.

  “She’s a prize, good hair, those eyes, trim figure, a real little beauty. Is she robust enough for our weather?”

  The Prince heard these remarks with an expression that denoted immense satisfaction at his choice.

  By the time Ariana reached her seat her limbs were trembling with a combination of shame and anger.

  The low-cut gown, chosen by the Prince himself, had exposed too much of her flesh to the guests’ gaze.

  He, meanwhile, regarded her with a glint of lust in his eyes such as she had not witnessed there before. It was as if public approval of his choice had inflamed his desire.

  He touched his lips to her forehead, then whispered lasciviously in her ear,

  “And this time next year we will be celebrating the birth of our son.”

  Ariana shivered.

  The Prince settled her in her chair and then raised his glass aloft.

  “To the future Princess of Dukka.”

  The men all raised their glasses.

  “To the Princess!”

  The toast done, conversation resumed as if Ariana had never entered and was not present. This discourtesy was in fact a relief as she had no desire to be the focus of attention or to invoke any further comment.

  Thus ignored there was little for her to do but eat and listen to the conversation.

  The Prince and his guests talked mainly about the hunt or crops or the high price of imports. There was some discussion of foreign wars.

  One man said that he was more concerned with the war in his own household, where his wife had lost interest in him and declared her intention to have no more children.

  Ariana flushed with indignation when she heard the Prince advise him that the wife should be beaten, while the other guests roared with laughter and said that it was more likely that the wife would take a broom to her husband!

  Ariana listened more keenly when the talk then fell to politics. She learned that the Prince was a supporter of the Ottoman rulers and was thus out of kilter with both his subjects and other leading families in the neighbourhood.

  She guessed that this unpopularity was the reason that he led such a comparatively isolated existence and was even perhaps the reason for his uneasiness when he went to Glinica.

  She then wondered again about the man who had accosted them and claimed that he had known the Prince when they were in the Turkoman’s Army together.

  She had assumed that he had mistaken the Prince for his double, Lorenc, but perhaps it was simply that the Prince did not wish to be reminded in public of his political sympathies.

  The evening ended with another toast to the House of Dukka and to its only surviving son, Stefan.

  Ariana’s ears pricked up at this. If Stefan was the only surviving son, then who was Lorenc?

  It was gone midnight when Ariana stood at the door beside the Prince as the guests departed. They stumbled drunkenly into the night with little more decorum than the brigands moving away from the fire after a long feast.

  Ariana then returned gratefully to her room.

  She presented herself to Gezim for release from the offending russet gown, but the maid stepped back with a shake of her head.

  “The Master said he wished you to remain dressed. He intends to visit you.”

  Ariana froze.

  “What? Here in my room?”

  “Here, madam, yes.”

  As if in confirmation, there was a knock at the door and the Prince entered. He ignored Gezim and walked to Ariana where she stood with her back to the mirror.

  “You were a success tonight, my sweet.”

  Ariana winced at the use of ‘sweet’.

  “I said little, sir.”

  “You did not need to speak. Look.”

  The Prince took her by the shoulders and turned her to face the mirror. Standing behind her, he reached around and traced a finger down her neck, as if following the line of a blue vein under her translucent skin.

  “This was all you needed to conquer,” he breathed into her ear.

  Ariana shuddered beneath his touch.

  He took note of her reaction, but misinterpreted the emotion behind it and gave a leer.

  “Ah, you begin to like Prince Stefan!”

  In the mirror Ariana could see Gezim waiting as if for orders by the window.

  How could the Prince behave in this way and speak these words with a maid present? Or was he amused at the thought of an onlooker?

  Ariana shook off his hands.

  “You are mistaken, sir. I am somewhat chilly.”

  Before the Prince could reply, she moved away to pick up the lace stole that Bujar had snatched from her.

  He watched her from under darkened brows.

  “It would not be wise for you to pretend that you are indifferent to my embrace,” he snapped.

  “Do not imagine I pretend,” replied Ariana boldly, drawing the stole round her shoulders and over her breast.

  She heard an intake of breath from the corner where Gezim lurked with such apparent meekness.

  The Prince heard it as well and brusquely ordered the maid to leave the room.

  Ariana observed to herself with a cold smile that he was not so keen for the maid to witness his humiliation.

  The Prince glared at her, his jaw tight.

  “Perhaps this is some game that you like to play to further inflame my passions,” he muttered after a moment. “Well, it works, my precious. I’ll wait no longer to claim what is rightfully mine. We will be married next week and you will come to me with more submission than you have shown tonight.”

  Then he was gone, his angry footsteps resounding down the stone corridor.

  Ariana stood immobile. What a fool she was!

  Her brief moment of defiance had done nothing but bring ever closer the fate that she dreaded – marriage to the Prince, a man whose kisses were a torture to her and whose bed might well be a pit of snakes for all the allure it offered to her aching heart.

  *

  The air in her room seemed suddenly stifling.

  Clutching the stole tightly, Ariana hurried out and down the stairway.

  She passed Bujar on her way up with a candle and a jug of hot water, but she did not return the housekeeper’s astonished question.

  There was no one in the hall, so Ariana was easily able to slip out of the front door.

  She welcomed the sharp night breeze on her face and ran quickly down the stone stairway into the gardens.

  She made for the woods to the right of The Castle. The moon was bright and so it was not difficult to find her way along the paths that wound in and out of the trees.

  In a few moments she found her way to
a clearing where a mermaid trickled water from a ewer into a stone fountain.

  Ariana was running across the clearing when her heart gave a startled leap. She was not alone here!

  A figure rose from the wall around the fountain and greeted her.

  The figure was Lulé!

  She was dressed in scarlet and beyond the clearing a white horse was tethered to a tree stump.

  So Ariana knew that it was Lulé who had spied on her that very afternoon and it was Lulé who had mockingly returned her mournful cry of ‘Lorenc’.

  Blushing at the thought she watched Lulé approach.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded of the gypsy woman.

  Lulé gave a low laugh.

  “It’s after midnight and you are alone. So what are you doing here?”

  Ariana did not care to reply.

  “You were watching me this afternoon.”

  Lule shrugged at the accusing tone.

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you not reveal yourself?”

  “Because someone else was watching you,” replied Lulé simply. “That one who came to the Fair with you.”

  “Gezim!”

  Lulé nodded.

  “She. When I replied to your cry, I hoped it would sound like an echo to her ears. I wanted to warn you.”

  “That I was being watched by two people?”

  Lulé sighed, but did not answer.

  “I came with a message from Bonnie for you,” she said instead.

  Ariana drew in her breath.

  “She wants you to know that she is well. You are not to worry on her account.”

  Ariana waited. Surely there would be a message from Lorenc? But Lulé had fallen silent.

  Indeed she was now not even looking at Ariana, but beyond her to the edge of the trees.

  Suddenly Ariana felt the hair on her neck rise.

  “She – is there?” she whispered, meaning Gezim.

  Lulé nodded.

  “I must go. Who knows who is with her.”

  Without even a farewell Lulé turned and ran to her horse. She leapt on its back and was away even as Ariana heard the voice of the Prince call from behind her.

  “Wait! I command you to wait!”

  Ariana was relieved to see the shape of the rider and horse disappear into the tall pine trees.