“Supposing that is – impossible?”
As Tora spoke, she thought how once she was back at the Palace the walls would enclose her more effectively than any prison and she would have little knowledge of what was happening in the world outside.
“I will find you,” Mikloš promised, “and if I can save Salona from the wild schemes of a madman, it will be due to you and I will see that you do not go unrewarded.”
“I don’t want any reward,” Tora replied. “I just want – you to be – safe.”
“And that is what I will endeavour to be,” Mikloš said. “Thank you, my lovely one, for being brave enough to tell me, for it is extremely important that I should know.”
He did not wait for her reply but kissed her again and this time his lips were gentle and beguiling, almost as if he wooed her with his lips.
It was impossible to think of anything else except the sensations that rippled through her like the waves of the sea, growing more intense and more magical.
She felt as if they were neither of them human, but were carried like Gods on the strains of a love song up to some eternal Olympus from which they need never return to earth.
Only when she thought that if she died at this moment when she was so happy it would be the most perfect thing that could happen, did Mikloš raise his head.
He looked down at her before he said very softly,
“God keep you my darling and pray that I shall be worthy of your trust.”
He kissed her on the forehead and, taking her by the hand, he drew her to the steps that led up to the back door of the inn.
They stopped at the bottom of them.
Then, as Tora just looked at him, still caught up in the ecstasy he had given her and finding it impossible either to think or speak, he lifted her hand to his lips.
He kissed first the back of it, then turning it over, he kissed the palm.
She felt his mouth, warm, demanding and passionate on the softness of her skin before without speaking he turned and walked away through the garden.
She vaguely had the idea he had gone in the direction of the stables.
But she did not wait to see him out of sight and because she knew without words it was what he expected of her she climbed the steps and opened the door into the inn.
Walking up the uncarpeted wooden stairs she made her way to the bedroom. Then locking the door behind her, she flung herself down on the bed and hid her face in the pillow.
She lay there for a very long time pulsating with the wonder that Mikloš had given her before finally she forced herself to rise and dress.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep as he had told her to do.
But she could only pray passionately and intensely from the very depths of her heart that he might be safe and somehow they would be with each other again.
*
The next morning, driving away after breakfast towards the Palace, Tora could only think that what had happened the night before was a dream of Heaven that could not really have occurred.
And yet she had awoken with a feeling of intense happiness because she had been dreaming that she was still in Mikloš’s arms and he was kissing her.
Then, as they entered Maglic and drove through the colourful streets crowded with people, she came back a little to reality as she thought that what she was doing at the moment would undoubtedly, if he knew about it, horrify her father.
Never would he imagine that his daughter, whom he was envisaging as the future Queen of Salona, would be driving dressed as a peasant through the Capital of that country with only three elderly musicians as her bodyguard.
‘Fortunately Papa has no idea of what is happening beneath the surface!’ Tora thought to herself.
In fact it was very difficult for her to really believe that Prince Boris with his revolutionary ideas had not been an illusion.
The sun was shining and the people of Salona, looking prosperous and happy, were thronging the streets and crowding the marketplace, not to listen to revolutionary speeches or confrontations, but to buy from the stalls and vendors delicious fruits, vegetables and farm produce brought in from the fertile plain.
There were great mountains of strawberries and raspberries, red and yellow plums, greengages, damsons, cherries and nectarines.
Market Day in Maglic like the smaller one at home, Tora was sure, brought the peasants for miles from all over the country.
They would make their way along dusty tracks, pushing barrows containing their produce and singing their folk songs.
These were as gay and light-hearted as they were themselves and, when they reached the marketplace, they were ready to bargain with everybody who stopped to inspect their wares.
There were cheeses made from goats’ milk as well as cows’ milk and long sausages that Tora knew would taste of garlic.
There were chickens, hams, sausages and pâtés of every sort and type to tempt the gourmet.
Because it was all so colourful, she would have liked to stop and walk about the place, but they had to drive on.
Now, on the other side of the town, rising above it and built on the side of a hill, she could see the Palace.
It was very beautiful and exactly, she thought, what a Palace should look like. It was white with Grecian pillars in front of it, the entrance having exquisite wrought-iron gates ornamented with gold.
There was a long flight of steps up to the front door and there were soldiers who looked almost like children’s toys in their smart colourful uniforms with white plumes on their helmets.
They carried shining guns on their shoulders that did not look as if they were capable of firing offensively at anybody.
But Tora shivered as she thought that at any moment Prince Boris and his revolutionaries would gun down the sentries and perhaps rush into the Palace and kill anybody who tried to protect their King.
It all seemed so unreal that for the moment she hoped that she had misled Mikloš.
There was certainly no sign of Prince Boris plotting and scheming against this attractive Palace or the Monarch who reigned over such a beautiful country.
Then as she realised that the Professor was tense and a little nervous, she told herself that she was being selfish and must think of him.
They had not spoken very much since leaving The Three Bells and she imagined that it was because it was early in the morning.
The Professor and the other two musicians had stayed up far later than usual and were consequently tired.
She also guessed that with so many toasts they had drunk a great deal and the Professor was, she knew, extremely abstemious when he was at home.
She was, however, quite sure that it would not affect the quality of his music, and as if to reassure him, she said,
“We are here and I am sure that your admirer, the Crown Prince of Croatia, is looking forward eagerly to our performance tonight.”
“I hope you are right, my dear,” the Professor replied, “but we will see first where we are to play and, as soon as we are unpacked, we will practise to make sure that we are proficient.”
“Yes, of course,” Tora agreed.
They were greeted by one of the aides-de-camp who told the Professor how much His Majesty and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince were looking forward to his arrival.
As he led them through the large and very impressive marble hall, he said,
“You must let me know, Professor, if there is anything you need. We have taken care to have the piano tuned before your arrival and, as it is comparatively new, I think it will meet with your approval.”
“I am sure it will,” the Professor replied. “I hope you will convey to His Majesty how much we appreciate such graciousness.”
They passed on through long corridors where there were, Tora saw, some very fine pictures as well as exquisitely made furniture.
Most of it was French and she thought she remembered somebody saying that the present King’s mother had been French, which would, of co
urse, account for it.
Then she remembered with a little tremor of fear that in two weeks’ time King Radul would be coming to stay with her father to ask for her hand in marriage.
At that moment she knew that because Mikloš had kissed her, because she had found the man she had given her heart to, she would never marry anybody else, whether he was the King of Salona or any other Crowned Head.
Until this minute she had never even begun to think about what being in love would mean in the future.
Because she knew that she would not be allowed to marry anybody who was not Royal, it meant that she was doomed to a life of loneliness she could hardly bear to think about.
And yet the only alternative was to marry a man she would hate and who had no real affection for her as a woman.
‘How can I contemplate anything so horrible – so unnatural?’ she asked herself.
She knew that what she had felt when she first heard of the King’s proposal was now, because she was in love, intensified a million times.
It was then she realised that the situation was now far more complicated and far more difficult than it had been before.
She had shrunk from marrying merely because the King wanted a son and was a man old enough to be her father and she did not love him.
But now she knew that to be touched by anybody but Mikloš, kissed by any man but Mikloš or be the wife of any man but Mikloš was unthinkable.
It was a degradation and a horror that she could not for one moment contemplate.
“I would rather kill myself!” she said beneath her breath and knew that it was the truth.
The aide-de-camp took them to the music room, which was at the far end of the Palace.
Tora thought it was very impressive although smaller than the music room at home and its decoration was quite different.
There was a stage with curtains and in the centre of it was an exquisite statue of a Goddess holding a small cupid in her arms who was playing the pipes of Pan.
The room was decorated in pale blue and surrounded by pillars picked out in white and gold, while the ceiling was painted dark blue like the sky at night with stars that could, the aide-de-camp explained, be illuminated from above.
“How clever and original!” Tora exclaimed. “Was it His Majesty’s idea?”
She thought that if so the King was very imaginative, but the aide-de-camp shook his head.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that His Majesty is not very musical and this room is seldom used. In fact the decorative scheme was the work of Prince Vulkan before he left us.”
He paused before he went on,
“When His Royal Highness was here, there were always two or three concerts a week and we even had some of the great opera singers from Paris to perform here or in the theatre that the Prince built onto the Palace.”
“A theatre?” Tora exclaimed. “How exciting!”
“We all enjoyed it very much,” the aide-de-camp said, “especially when the Russian Ballet came to Maglic.”
He spoke with an enthusiasm that Tora guessed was not only for the ballet itself but for the very lovely ballerinas who performed in it.
Then he said in a different tone,
“Actually this is the first concert we have had here for six years and I can assure you, Professor, the Royal Household, one and all, are looking forward to listening to you!”
The Professor was delighted and, as soon as they had all seen their bedrooms, they returned to the music room to start practising.
They were all accommodated in this part of the Palace and Tora found her room was comparable to the one she had at home.
It was certainly very comfortable and there was an apple-cheeked young maid to look after her and unpack her trunk.
Tora told her to hang up her evening gown so that it would not be creased.
Then, having washed her hands and tidied her hair, she hurried back to the music room, knowing that the Professor would now be impatient to start them all playing.
Everything had, however, taken far longer than they had expected and, almost before they had settled down to work, it was announced that luncheon was ready for them.
It was served in a room that overlooked the garden at the back of the Palace.
There was a terrace outside the window with steps leading down to a green lawn that stretched away to where there were a number of fountains throwing their water high into the air, creating a dozen iridescent rainbows as it fell into the stone basins.
There were cypress trees and part of the garden was laid out in the French fashion with elegant box hedges and formally bedded-out flowers.
There were also trees in blossom that were brilliant with colour and the whole effect was one of sunlight and beauty that lifted Tora’s heart.
She knew that what she was feeling could only be expressed in music.
Even so at the back of her mind there was always the thought of Mikloš and her terror that he might be in danger.
What would he do? How could he possibly prevent Prince Boris from starting his revolution if not tomorrow, the next day, or the day after that?
Supposing she had been mistaken and he had no authority and nobody would listen to him.
Then, if Prince Boris took everybody by surprise, his coup d’etat would be successful and he would be the King of Salona.
She must have been looking worried because the Professor turned to her and said unexpectedly,
“You played perfectly last night and it will be no different tonight, except I have a feeling in my bones that you will play even better!”
She felt that he thought she was nervous and was trying to reassure her.
She wondered what he would say if he was told the truth, that a terrible dastardly plot was in hand to destroy everything, including the serenity and happiness of the whole country.
The aide-de-camp appeared in the afternoon to report that the King wished to see them in audience before dinner.
“His Majesty is giving a dinner party,” he explained, “and, as he wishes to see you first alone, I will collect you from here at about seven o’clock and take you to his private rooms where he will receive you.”
“It is a great honour,” the Professor murmured.
After this announcement there was no time to play any longer and they all went to their own rooms where Tora found that the maid who looked after her had prepared her bath.
There was no hurry and she washed herself in the warm scented water, thinking not of what she was doing but of Mikloš.
She was wondering frantically how it might be possible to see him before they left the Palace the next morning.
She had the frightening feeling that once she was back in her own country it would be impossible for him to find her.
At the same time she wondered whether she should instruct the Professor that, if Mikloš made enquiries about her, he should say that she had left for Austria or Hungary where he could not follow her.
He must never be told the truth because he would doubtless be horrified, as everybody else would be, at her deceitfulness.
And yet she asked herself how she could refuse to see somebody who meant so much to her.
“I love him! I love him!” she murmured despairingly and wondered how it was possible to face the agony of the long years ahead without him.
By the time she had dressed, the last remnants of the wonder and glory that had blossomed in her last night and which had made her feel as if everything had a dream-like quality about it had begun to fade.
Now she was back to reality – the reality of remembering that she was a Princess who would in a few moments be seeing the King she was to marry and from whom, however much she might complain about it, there was really no escape.
She faced the fact that, if she really refused to marry the King, she could be pressurised into it by her father and mother simply because the only alternative would be, as she had already threatened, to go into a Convent.
She h
ad visited several Convents and she knew that, while the nuns seemed happy with serene untroubled faces, they had never known any other life and certainly had never been in love.
If they had and still wanted to go into a Convent, it would probably be because the person they loved had died and that was a different thing all together.
The man she loved would be alive and how could she live in a Convent or anywhere else thinking of him having a wife and children while she denied herself everything but the memory of a few kisses?
‘I must be practical, I must be sensible,’ Tora told herself as the maid helped her into her evening gown.
Then she knew that being sensible would be like stabbing herself with a thousand knives and feeling the blood pour like tears from her wounds.
“I love him! I love him!” she cried again and again despairingly.
But she knew, however much she might fight and strive, inevitably this Palace would, unless Prince Boris was successful, be a prison where she would be incarcerated for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER FIVE
Only when Tora was dressed and had a last look at herself in the mirror did she suddenly, with a sense of shock, realise that she had been very stupid.
Now that she was dressed as herself, even though as unobtrusively as possible, there would be every likelihood when the King came to visit her father that he would recognise her.
It was something that had not occurred to her before when she was planning how she could see the King informally and not surrounded by all the pomp and circumstance of a Royal visit.
It had never struck her that even though she was just a humble member of the Professor’s quartet, the King might, when he saw her again, remember her looks and even if he did not denounce her, might perhaps remark to her father on the resemblance.
It would then be not too difficult for her father or mother to put two and two together when they realised that the King must have seen her in Salona at the time when she had left the Palace on the pretext of visiting friends.
‘I am crazy!’ Tora exclaimed to herself. ‘Obviously I cannot meet the King now!’
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