‘Nobody will notice me,’ Tora consoled herself, ‘because there are so many pretty girls around that one more will certainly not attract very much attention.’
But when she looked in the mirror she thought that her eyes seemed almost to fill her face and there was a light in them that might have come from the sun itself.
There were, however, still some stars in the sky, although the darkness of the night was being swept away by the dawn when she crept down one of the back staircases of the Palace.
She let herself out through a garden door that was seldom used and led almost directly to the shrubs that encircled the Palace at the back. They were in bloom and their fragrance filled the air.
But Tora had no time to think of anything but how best to escape and she had put her shawl over her head and pulled it forward to hide her features just in case one of the sentries should look at her too closely.
When, however, she reached the back gate of the Palace she found, as she had expected, that the sentries were not outside.
They were sitting in the hut that was provided for them, but was intended to be used only when the weather was too severe to be endured, as when thick snow came down from the mountains, or storms of torrential rain would have soaked them in a few seconds.
It was therefore a tradition that a strongly constructed hut should be provided for such contingencies.
But, as Tora had told the Professor, the sentries used it at all times of the year, especially when there was no likelihood, as now, of an Officer being up so early to reprimand them.
She could see them by the light of the oil lamp in the hut through the uncurtained window and it was easy for her to slip unobserved through the gates which were not closed and out onto the road.
She kept to the shadows of the high wall that bordered the Palace until she was out of sight, then, as arranged with the Professor, she walked quickly along until she came to a crossroads.
Here the town lay in one direction and in the other the road that she would take passed through the valley and ended miles away on the pass that led into Salona.
Only when Tora stopped at the crossroads did she realise how violently her heart was beating and how frightened she had been in case somebody stopped her from leaving the Palace.
It seemed incredible that it had been so easy, but she had known that the Professor was wise in saying she must leave at dawn before the day servants came on duty.
Those who worked at night, if they were not dozing, were thinking only of how soon they could reach their beds.
She looked along the road and saw that it was deserted, but Tora knew she would have been afraid if there had been people on it, because she would have looked conspicuous.
She waited only five minutes, although it seemed very much longer, before she saw in the distance coming from the direction of the town a country cart drawn by two fast horses.
She knew that this would be the Professor’s friend and she wondered if he would have explained to him who she was.
When the horses came to a standstill, she saw that they were driven by a middle-aged man with hair beginning to turn white at the temples.
Although he was dressed rather better than the average peasant, Tora knew that he was not of the same class.
He leaned over to help her as Tora climbed into the cart to sit down on the hard seat beside him.
After a gruff “good morning”, he started up his horses again and she looked behind her to see there were a number of packages, as well as a small keg of wine, and she knew that he was a Carrier.
She had always heard of how the Carriers travelled to every part of the country carrying chickens, eggs and other products from the farms or bringing clothes, ribbons and trinkets from the town to those who could afford to pay for them.
It was one of the housemaids who had told her that when she was a girl the arrival of the Carrier once every three weeks in the small village where she lived at the foot of the mountains was an excitement that brought everybody from their cottages.
“I used to think the ribbons he sold for us to decorate our headdresses were the loveliest I have ever seen, Your Highness,” she had said, “and my mother would save up to buy cottons, wools and silks from him so that we could embroider our aprons and our blouses.”
Only the Professor, Tora told herself, could have thought of anything so clever as having her conveyed from the Palace by the ordinary Carrier.
A closed carriage would have certainly aroused curiosity and so would any other sort of conveyance.
Tora thought that the Carrier was such a commonplace sight that, if there was any enquiry as to where she had gone and how she had left the Palace without being observed, no one would suspect for a moment that this was how she had left.
She had written a note to her father last night explaining that she was so perturbed at what he had told her that she felt she had to get away by herself for two days to think.
She wrote,
“You must be aware, Papa, that I have always wanted to marry somebody I loved and it is very difficult for me to contemplate marrying the King just because it will benefit Radoslav.
I know it is something demanded of me in my position. At the same time I have to acclimatise myself to the idea and I can only do that if I am somewhere with a friend and not surrounded by everything that is familiar and which, when the time comes, I shall be miserable to leave behind.
Please do not worry about me, Papa, and tell Mama I am well chaperoned and very competently looked after.
I shall return almost before you realise I have gone, but at least I shall have had time to think.
I remain, your most affectionate and usually obedient daughter,
Tora.”
She thought as she put the letter in an envelope addressed to her father and laid it on the desk in her sitting room that it would probably be noon or perhaps later before he received it.
By that time she would be on her way to a place where they would be very unlikely to search for her.
She was certain that her mother would guess that she had gone to one of her old teachers, of whom there were three or four in different parts of the country.
They might send messengers to look for her there, but by the time they had found they had been mistaken in thinking that was where she was hiding, she would be home.
As she had said to the Professor, it was only for two nights and, if they stayed at The Three Bells and tomorrow at the Palace, no one would have the slightest idea where she was.
Tora had, of course, never been to an inn and all she knew was what she had read about them in books. She was therefore extremely curious to learn what The Three Bells was like.
She knew that there were many different sorts of inns in Radoslav, just as there were in the other countries around them.
She had read of landlords who had robbed travellers of their possessions and even murdered those who trusted them.
She was certain the Professor would not take her to an inn of that sort.
Then there were coffee houses, which her books had told her were sometimes filled with rowdy students, who drank too much and made a nuisance of themselves.
She had also learnt of the wine gardens in Bavaria and Austria, which were usually attached to an inn and where those who were in love listened to music.
They could sit in small vine-covered arbours where they would be isolated from other people as they drank the local wine.
Sometimes she told herself fantasies in which she sat at a small table and the man beside her told her of his love as the violins played an exquisite melody and the stars came out overhead.
At other times she would be waltzing to the music of Johann Strauss with a dark and handsome stranger and, as the music ended, they would know that, while their bodies were close together, their minds were already linked as were their hearts.
‘That is what I want,’ Tora told herself again and knew dismally that because she was a Princess it could
never happen.
She had danced at the State ball that had been given at the Palace and, although it had been an exciting experience, her partners had all been middle-aged apart from one or two very young men, the sons of her father’s Courtiers.
Even so, in her first grown-up gown, she had enjoyed every moment of the music and the glamour of the ballroom with its candlelit chandeliers and great banks of flowers.
She felt too that the men in their uniforms and glittering decorations and the women in their huge crinolines, made a picture she would never forget.
But that was, although she did not realise it at the time, the death knell of the crinoline.
Frederick Worth in Paris had decreed that the crinoline was to be supplanted by the bustle and the gowns that Tora had bought in the New Year for her debut were all swept back from the front into a bustle billowing out at the back.
Sometimes they fell from her small waist in a cascade of frills, which made her feel as if she was on the bow of a ship sailing over the waves towards unknown horizons.
Although it was exciting to have such new and different clothes to wear, she had not yet attended many special occasions at which to display them.
It was not until next month that her father and mother had decided they should introduce her to the Social world as their grown up and, of course, marriageable daughter.
Now Tora knew that, because of the King’s intention to marry her, her coming-out party would be merged into the Wedding celebrations and she would feel defrauded of what she had looked forward to for so long.
She knew that her mother had been making a list of all the eligible bachelors there were in the neighbouring Kingdoms and had intended to ask all the eldest sons of the Rulers to stay with them at the Palace.
They included Crown Princes from Bohemia, Croatia and Dalmatia, besides the Tyrol and Hungary.
“They are not all unmarried,” the mother had said when they were looking over the list, “but they would be insulted if they were not asked and we can only hope, dearest child, that they will invite you back.”
“I hope so too!” Tora had answered.
“It would be so good for you to see other Courts besides our own,” the Grand Duchess continued, “and there are, of course, many crowned heads we are related to in one way or another.”
It had all sounded very exciting, but now, to spoil everything, the tiresome old King Radul was coming in two weeks’ time to Radoslav and after that there would be no exciting visits to make anywhere except as his wife.
‘I hate him, I hate him!’ Tora cried silently and then was horrified at the violence of her own feelings.
To take her mind off herself, she tried to discuss the countryside they were passing through with the Carrier.
But he was a reserved silent man perhaps because he was used to being alone and had no small talk, he showed little interest in what Tora was trying to say to him.
She therefore sat silent looking at the lush beautiful country with its silver rivers and meadows filled with brilliantly coloured alpine flowers.
Much of the valley was cultivated and there were fields of vines and green corn, which later would ripen to gold.
At midday they stopped and the Carrier produced a package that he said the Professor had prepared for her.
Tora climbed down from the cart to sit among the grasses by the roadside.
She opened the package to find it contained fresh rolls filled with slices of ham or cheese and some delicious small chocolate cakes, which she knew Simonida baked especially because the Professor enjoyed them so much.
There was a small bottle of lemonade to drink and she wondered if she should share her luncheon with the Carrier.
However, when she suggested it, he shook his head and walked away to sit smoking a pipe and staring down at a small stream as if looking for the fish that swam in its shallows.
Tora raised her eyes to the mountains, thinking that at the moment they were a barrier between her and the country over which, if she did marry the King, she would reign.
Then she thought of how often in her imagination she had compared the familiar peaks of the mountains with her own yearning for a fulfilment of herself, which she believed one day she would find.
‘I need to learn so much more than I know already. I want to find new horizons,’ she had thought.
Then she was frank enough to admit that in seeking such things she had always believed that they would come to her through love and that her guide and teacher would be the man she loved.
Now that was impossible and everything she had longed for would always be out of reach.
As soon as she had finished eating, the Carrier tapped out his carved pipe on a tree trunk and climbed back into his seat on the cart.
Tora realised that he was eager to be on his way and hastily she joined him, saying as she did so,
“Thank you for letting me stop for a little while. I only wish that you would have shared my luncheon with me.”
“I eat in the evening,” he replied in a gruff voice.
“Alone?” Tora enquired.
“With my wife. She is a good cook.”
For the first time there was a note of satisfaction in his voice and Tora thought it rather touching.
As they drove on, they saw men and women working in the fields and she wondered how many of them went home eagerly at night to their husband or wife?
How many had found the love that she sought and which she was sure was the only real happiness, whether one was rich or poor, important or obscure?
Then she told herself that she was being ridiculous.
The ordinary people of Radoslav, as in any other country, had usually an arranged marriage where if she had a sizable dowry a girl was able to choose a man who was in a better position than if she was poor.
But, because the Radoslavs seemed so happy, she was certain that the great majority, whatever their parents might say, married for love or else fell in love after marriage.
Was that possible? And would it happen to her?
She was concentrating so completely on her feelings that it was quite a surprise when late in the afternoon the horses started to climb and she realised that they had reached the foothills of the mountains.
She had always been told that the pass from Radoslav into Salona was very spectacular.
Now, as she saw it for the first time, she realised that this was true.
Through some strange earthquake many millions of years earlier there was a deep cleft between the mountains through which one could pass from the valley of Radoslav into the enormous fertile plain of Salona.
Sloping down from the peaks themselves were thick woods and, of course, cascades that merged into the rivers which fertilised the plain.
It was beautiful, even more beautiful than Tora had expected, but almost before she had time to realise what she was seeing the horses turned sideways and climbed a steep rise that led through a thickly wooded area to the inn of The Three Bells.
It was a very attractive inn with a gabled roof and was far bigger than Tora had expected.
Outside the main door were dozens of small white tables and chairs and at one side little arbours, which she was sure were exactly like the wine gardens she visualised in Austria.
They were all empty at the moment and, because Tora knew she had to wait for some time for the Professor, she said quickly to the Carrier,
“Will you put me down here? I have no wish to enter the inn until later.”
As if the Carrier understood, he nodded and pulled his horses to a standstill.
Tora rose to alight expecting that he would climb down and assist her to the ground, but he remained seated holding onto the reins.
She managed to get down unaided, but before she could go round to his side of the cart to thank him for bringing her, he pulled at his hat, gave her a nod and drove off.
She was so surprised that she stared after him, feeling that in some way he had abandoned he
r and now she was alone she felt nervous.
Then she reassured herself that it would not be long before the Professor arrived and all she had to do was to sit and wait for him.
He had told her the name of the innkeeper, but Tora thought it would be embarrassing to announce that she had come alone without waiting for the rest of the party.
She therefore looked around, wondering where she would be out of sight of those inside the inn, but where she would be able to see anybody arriving along the road she had just come up with the Carrier.
She then realised that against the side of the inn there were a number of wooden benches, some with a table in front of them and some without.
She felt as they were not so impressive as the white tables and chairs arranged under the trees and in the arbours that they were kept for the poorer patrons of the inn.
She looked at them and thought that was where she could sit without being conspicuous.
Then she saw there was one bench at the far end of the building that was almost obscured by shrubs of lilac and syringa that were just coming into bloom.
She moved towards it and realised when she sat down that no one looking from the windows of the inn would see her and at the same time no one could arrive at the front door without her being aware of it.
It had become very hot during the afternoon and she had taken off her shawl. Now she set it down beside her and thought how quiet and peaceful everything was.
She could hear the pigeons cooing in the trees and saw that there were a number of them walking amongst the tables obviously looking for crumbs left behind by those who had patronised the inn last night.
A tree growing near her sheltered her from the sun and she thought how angry her mother would be if just before the King arrived to stay she spoilt the whiteness of her skin by becoming suntanned.
She had always been brought up to believe that it was very aristocratic to have white skin and, of course, white hands that never knew hard work.
But she had often envied the peasant girls running hatless in the fields and thought that the golden hue of their skin was very attractive.
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