The Peril and the Prince Page 8

  “I-I was frightened of him. I thought he was a Russian – Agent!”

  “He is my agent,” the Prince explained, “and a very effective one.”

  He smiled before he went on.

  “He not only discovered for me where your father had hidden himself from the Czar’s men, who are pursuing him, but he also described, which I feel was very astute of him, a very lovely lady, now calling herself the Countess Vida Kărólski, who boarded the Express train from Paris as Miss Vida Anstruther.”

  “So you now know I am Papa’s daughter.”

  “Yes, I know!”

  He put out his other hand and ran his fingers along the line of her chin.

  It made Vida feel as though a little flame touched her and she quivered as the Prince continued,

  “How could you have been so ridiculous as to pretend to be a widow?”

  “You – believed me,” she said defensively.

  “Not once I had kissed you.”

  She felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

  “What – did you know – then?”

  “That you had never been kissed before and that, my precious, was why I left you.”

  Vida looked at him wide-eyed.

  Then, as if he forced himself to do so, he released her hand and said in a different tone of voice,

  “Now perhaps you will tell me how you intend to get your father away from here?”

  “I-I don’t – know,” Vida replied. “I only know that I had to – come to him – and that he is in danger.”

  There was a little sob in her voice as she added,

  “Please, please help me!”

  “That is what I intend to do,” the Prince answered. “I already have a plan that I think and hope will work.”

  Vida felt a surge of excitement sweep through her at his words.

  She sat up in bed and held out both her hands to him.

  “Why was I so – foolish as not to know instinctively that – you would want to – help Papa rather than have him imprisoned or even killed, as I was – afraid you – might?”

  “One day,” the Prince said in a deep voice, “I will make you apologise for even suspecting that I could be a supporter of evil. But first we have to concentrate and time is vitally important in taking your father out of the country.”

  Vida drew in her breath but did not speak and simply looked at the Prince, her eyes very wide, her dark red hair hanging over her shoulders.

  “The first thing is to get him away from the Monastery,” the Prince said, “and I have thought of a plan for doing that.”

  “How can we?” Vida asked.

  “You arrived here exhausted after your long journey and during the night you had a bad heart attack,” the Prince said. “You are therefore very eager to contact your Confessor, whom you understand is at the moment in the Monastery of St. Onutri.”

  It was such a clever idea that Vida slipped her hand into the Prince’s and held on to it almost as if she was afraid that before he finished explaining his plan he would disappear.

  Then, despite her anxiety and her genuine weakness, she felt as if a shaft of sunlight ran through her as his fingers closed over hers so tightly that they hurt.

  “I am going to send your Courier, whose name, I understand, is Henri, to see the Abbot at the Monastery,” the Prince said. “He will say that you have come from my castle, which will impress him, but not that I too am here.”

  “I am – sure that is – wise,” Vida murmured.

  “The fact that we do not know what name your father is using at the moment makes it more difficult,” the Prince went on. “Henri can explain that you are not well enough to answer any questions. But your maid, who has been with you for many years, knows that the one person who can help in this emergency is your Confessor, who has known the family ever since you were a child.”

  “Papa does not – know the – name on – my passport,” Vida said quickly.

  “I guessed that,” the Prince said, “but Henri can say that you are the Countess Vida Kărólski and I cannot believe your father, who is very quick-witted, will not comprehend.”

  “You know Papa?”

  “Of course I know him,” the Prince replied, “and I admire him more than I can possibly say! At the same time to enter Russia when he knew the Secret Police were waiting for him was a foolhardy action.”

  “I warned Papa that he was a – marked man.”

  “But he would not listen to you,” the Prince said, “and now I am afraid that for the rest of his life Russia is forbidden territory.”

  “But first we – have to get him – out.”

  “That is the operative word and we will get him out, you and I, Vida!”

  His eyes met hers and it was hard for him to look away.

  Then, as if he forced himself once again to concentrate on what was immediately important, he said,

  “I am going to find Henri now and instruct him to go to the Monastery as soon as possible. The monks rise early and, as soon as their first Service is over, he will have an opportunity to see the Abbot.”

  “If only we knew what name Papa is using,” Vida murmured.

  “He will give Henri the answer to that question.”

  He rose from the bed as he spoke, smiled at her and walked towards the door.

  As he reached it, he looked back and said softly,

  “As I have said before, you look very lovely in the morning, Vida.”

  She felt herself blush. At the same time she felt as if her whole body had come alive and she was singing like a lark in the sky.

  The Prince was here, he had taken over the problem from her and he was now in command.

  All she wanted to do was to rest on his strength and feel the wonder of him seep through her like the sunshine.

  Five minutes later Margit came hurrying to her.

  “That’ll teach us to make hasty opinions about anybody in the future!” she said sharply. “His Highness has just walked into my bedroom, where, of course, I was lyin’ in bed and he almost gave me a heart attack! He’s told me what’s been planned and even your father couldn’t think of a cleverer idea!”

  “He is wonderful!” Vida exclaimed. “I could hardly believe it when he pulled back the curtains. I thought it was you!”

  “While he’s givin’ Henri orders, I’ve to make you look ill in case anyone from the hotel sees you. If you lie there with your eyes shinin’ like a rainbow, they’re not goin’ to believe you’re anythin’ but pulsatin’ with good health!”

  Vida began to laugh and then she put her fingers over her mouth in case anybody else should hear the sound.

  Margit brushed back her hair and tied it at the back of her neck. Then she covered her forehead with a piece of linen, as if she was applying eau de cologne or some other cooling lotion.

  She then powdered her face to make her skin look very pale.

  “I’m goin’ to send for some tea,” she said, “which is all His Highness thinks you should appear to have for breakfast. But I’ll order something’ substantial for myself in my own room, so you’ll not go hungry.”

  “I am far too happy to be hungry!”

  “I’ll be happy when we’re out of this pestilential country,” Margit moaned, “and not before!”

  She spoke sharply, then walked out of the room, leaving Vida to think.

  Even if the Prince’s clever plan brought her father out of the Monastery in the guise of a Confessor, they still had to escape out of Russia.

  Even the Prince could not prevent the Secret Police from catching up with them and apprehending her father, if he had not yet crossed the Hungarian border into safety.

  Suddenly her happiness had gone and once again she was feeling desperately anxious.

  Perhaps it would be a mistake to bring her father out from the safety of the Monastery where he had found sanctuary in the town.

  Her only hope now was that, while Vladimir Demidovsky had found out where her father was hiding, the S
ecret Police might be looking for him elsewhere.

  She wished that she had asked the Prince more details of what he knew, but she was aware this was not the time for talking to him. That would come later.

  Now they had to act and act quickly.

  There was a knock on her door and she guessed that it was a maidservant with her tea.

  She therefore shut her eyes and lay back looking, she hoped, very ill with her white face and the linen cloth over her forehead.

  The knock came again and now Margit came to the door and she heard her say in Russian,

  “Go straight in. Her Ladyship’s too ill to speak. Just put it down by the bed and I’ll give it to her in spoonfuls.”

  Vida heard the maid come in and set down the tea in its samovar.

  “Poor lady, so young to be stricken in such a manner,” she heard her say.

  “It’s God’s will,” Margit said solemnly.

  “He always knows best,” the maid agreed.

  She went from the room and Margit bolted the door behind her.

  “Now, sit up and drink,” she said. “Later I’ll bring you some toast and honey, which will at least sustain you until we gets out of this place.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Vida asked.

  “His Highness told me he has a plan for that too. I’m sure we can trust him to think of somethin’ clever.”

  “Yes, we can trust him!” Vida said, a little lilt in her voice.

  She drank the tea, then Margit put the samovar outside the door and they waited.

  It seemed to Vida as if a century of time passed, although it was actually no more than an hour before there were footsteps on the stairs.

  For a minute she was terrified that it might be the Secret Police.

  Then the door opened and she first saw Henri, who took a quick glance round the room before he stood back and let a monk enter who had been standing behind him.

  At first Vida thought that she must be mistaken.

  Then she saw that it was really her father.

  She jumped out of bed and flung her arms round his neck.

  “Oh, Papa. Papa!” she whispered. “It is you! It’s really you! Oh, thank God!”

  Tears were running down her cheeks and he held her close against him.

  Then crying and laughing at the same time, she said,

  “I cannot believe that you are here, and dearest Papa, I would never have recognised you with a beard!”

  Her father did not answer, but only kissed her.

  Then he said,

  “How could you think of anything so clever, so brilliant, as that I should be your Father Confessor?”

  “It was the Prince – ” Vida began.

  As she spoke, there was a very soft knock on the door and Margit drew back the bolt while her father glanced a little nervously over his shoulder and pulled the hood back over his head.

  It was the Prince and he came in to say,

  “Thank God we have you here, Sir Harvey. That at least is an excellent start.”

  “I might have guessed, Your Highness, that it would be you who would save me!” Sir Harvey said.

  “It was also your daughter,” the Prince replied.

  Even as he smiled at her, Vida realised that, when she had jumped out of bed, she was wearing only the diaphanous nightgown he had seen her in the night he had come to her room at The Castle.

  Quickly she slipped back under the bedclothes and as she did so the Prince said to her father,

  “Now, listen to me carefully, Sir Harvey, because we have very little time. We have to get you well away from Lvov before the Abbot realises that you will not be returning to the Monastery.”

  “Tell me what is in your mind,” Sir Harvey asked.

  He spoke quietly, but Vida knew that he was alert and watchful, fully aware of the danger they were in.

  At the same time he was facing it with that quiet confidence that came from the power within him, which assured him that he would be successful and survive, however intimidating his enemies might be.

  “What I have planned,” the Prince answered him, “and there is not a moment to be lost, is this – ”

  As he started to speak, he seemed to Vida to be enveloped with light and might in fact be St. Michael come down with his angels from Heaven to save them.

  Chapter Five

  Forty minutes later Vida walked out through a side door into a courtyard to see the Prince’s magnificent travelling carriage drawn by six horses waiting in the sunshine.

  She was dressed in the uniform of an outrider, her red hair covered by a white wig and a peaked velvet cap.

  She wore a short livery jacket of claret trimmed with gold braid, which was the same as was worn by the servants in The Castle and below it white buckskin breeches and highly polished boots.

  She would have felt embarrassed if any of the five other outriders had looked at her, but as soon as she appeared they mounted the horses that were brought from the stables one by one by the grooms.

  Vida was helped onto the saddle of a magnificent thoroughbred, which she knew was of Hungarian origin.

  As soon as they were all mounted, the carriage drove from the courtyard to the front of the hotel and the whole cavalcade waited.

  Vida held her breath, for she knew that this was the most dangerous moment of their deception and that somewhere, although she could not see them, they were being watched by men who would doubtless report to one of the Czar’s Head Agents what was going on.

  After several minutes, during which the horses fidgeted and the sun seemed unpleasantly hot on her face, through the door of the hotel came first a shrouded figure in blankets carried by two men, followed by Margit and Henri.

  Very carefully the men lifted the shrouded figure onto the back seat of the carriage while Margit, holding a handkerchief, a fan and various other items that might be required, sat on the seat opposite.

  The door of the carriage with its panel painted with the Prince’s Coat of Arms was closed and then he himself appeared through the doorway.

  Now his black stallion was brought to the mounting block by two grooms.

  The stallion was being extremely obstreperous, rearing and bucking and the grooms had difficulty in holding it.

  As soon as the Prince was in the saddle, the carriage moved away and the outriders rode three on either side of it.

  It was only when they passed down the main road of the town and were out into the countryside that Vida felt that she could give a sigh of relief.

  When the Prince had expounded his idea that her father should take her place as the woman who was ill and who had come to visit her Confessor, while she herself rode with the outriders, she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  He had taken her agreement to his scheme for granted and without waiting for her to say anything had gone from the room.

  Then, almost before she realised what was happening, her father had left her and Margit was dressing her in the livery that had been brought in to them by the Prince’s valet.

  “I knew there’d be trouble if we came to Russia,” Margit was saying almost beneath her breath.

  “Be careful!” Vida begged her. “All that matters is that Papa should be safe.”

  After that they dressed in silence and only when she was ready did Margit, with a sob in her voice, say,

  “God go with you, Miss Vida! We need His protection!”

  Vida gave her a smile and, walking carefully in boots that were a little too big for her, she went down the stairs.

  Now, riding astride, she found it surprisingly easy, considering it was something she had not done since she was a child.

  The carriage was moving very quickly and causing a cloud of dust to rise behind it.

  The outriders therefore took to the fields on either side of the slightly raised road while the Prince rode on ahead of them.

  This was not so much by choice, but because his horse was determined to outstrip anything else on four l
egs.

  For the next three hours all Vida could think of was that her father was moving farther and farther away from the Monastery.

  Although there might be questions asked as to why he had not returned, they would not be particularly anxious as to his whereabouts until much later in the day.

  It was long after noon before they stopped in a clearing in the woods. As she might have expected, the Prince had had their luncheon brought with them.

  As Vida dismounted, she was wondering whether or not she should stay with the other outriders, when Henri came to her side to say in Russian so that the men would understand,

  “His Highness wishes to speak to you.”

  Vida gave him the reins of her horse, knowing that he would know what to do and walked through the trees to where she saw a table had been set up with some collapsible chairs and in one of them was seated her father.

  The Prince was beside him and Margit had withdrawn into the trees and was sitting alone and out of earshot.

  As she reached her father, Vida knew that the Prince was watching her and she felt shy that she was wearing breeches.

  At the same time she was well aware it was not a moment for acting modestly when her father’s life was at stake.

  He must have been wearing his own clothes under the blankets in which he had been carried into the carriage, for now he looked as he always did, very distinguished and, surprisingly, in view of the circumstances, very smart.

  His beard had been shaved off and Vida could see that he was much thinner than when she had last seen him.

  As this was the first thing that struck her, she said,

  “You are all right, Papa? Nothing has happened to you?”

  She was thinking as she spoke that he might have been tortured or injured in some way.

  But he smiled.

  “I am quite all right, my dearest. I found, however, that fish and black bread is not a very sustaining fare for a hungry man.”

  “That is something I now intend to remedy,” the Prince remarked.

  As he spoke, Vida saw that the outriders who had tied the reins of their horses to the trees so that they could not stray were now bringing luncheon to set it out on the table in front of them.