A Kiss for the King

by Barbara Cartland

  “Will you please reassure him and say that I have enjoyed the meal immensely. It is the best dinner I have had since I came to Maurona,” Anastasia replied. “I shall never forget how long drawn out and exhausting the Wedding Banquet was. I thought it would never come to an end!”

  Captain Aznar laughed.

  “Most people, ma’am, fast for several days before they embark upon a State Banquet! There is always too much to be eaten by too few!”

  Coffee was brought to the table in beautiful Moorish cups, handleless and set in gold holders decorated with coral and turquoises.

  “How pretty!” Anastasia exclaimed.

  “His late Majesty collected many Moorish and Arabic treasures in the Palace,” Captain Aznar explained. “Tomorrow when all the rooms are open I think you will find much to interest you, ma’am.”

  “I am sure I shall,” Anastasia answered.

  Then the words were arrested on her lips as a servant came into the room.

  He bent his head and spoke to Captain Aznar.

  “The Officer has arrived from Leziga with news, ma’am. Would you wish to see him?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  It was difficult to conceal her impatience as the servant went from the room to return a few moments later with a young Officer wearing the uniform of the Dragoon Guards.

  He saluted smartly and stood just inside the door waiting to be spoken to.

  “What has happened?” Anastasia asked impulsively. “Is His Majesty safe?”

  She could not prevent the words sounding frantic or hide her anxiety.

  “His Majesty arrived early this morning, ma’am,” the Officer answered. “The troops at Leziga were immediately paraded in front of him. He informed them of his plans and they set off for Sergei.”

  “How did they go?” Anastasia asked.

  “The Cavalry went first, ma’am, His Majesty leading them. The cannons and lighter guns drawn by horses followed with the foot soldiers marching behind.”

  “Have you heard anything of what has happened?” Anastasia enquired.

  “His Majesty commanded me to stay with him until he could send a message back containing the information he felt you, ma’am, would wish to hear.”

  “What was it? Tell me!” Anastasia commanded.

  The Officer drew a piece of paper from his pocket.

  “His Majesty’s note is brief,” he said and read aloud –

  “There was opposition in the environs of the City, but this was overcome with some casualties on both sides. The Revolutionaries are now in the process of being rounded up. There are small pockets of resistance in some areas and snipers on many of the buildings.”

  “Is that – all?” Anastasia asked in a small voice.

  “I waited in case there should be a second message,” the Officer replied, “but I thought Your Majesty might be anxious, so I came here as quickly as I could.”

  “Thank you very much. I am sure you must be hungry and need a drink. Captain Aznar will look after you.”

  The Officers went from the room and Anastasia walked out into the Court of the Dolphins. The night was warm and the air fragrant with the scent of flowers.

  The fountains had been turned on and now the water was being thrown high into the sky to fall again into an exquisitely carved basin with a soft tinkling sound, otherwise there was only silence.

  It was an immeasurable relief to know that the revolution was over. At the same time Anastasia knew that it might easily break out again.

  Perhaps the insurgents were reorganising their forces, perhaps they were waiting for nightfall to strike again. Apart from this, she had hoped, perhaps foolishly, for a personal message from the King, something he would say to her alone, something to tell her that he was thinking of her.

  Then she told herself she was asking too much. Besides, he could have no idea how much she longed to hear from him.

  She thought now how stupid she had been not to have let him know clearly before he went away that she loved him and then remembered she had not really known it herself.

  He probably thought she was still indifferent – or perhaps cold, as he believed all English women were.

  Did he really wish to win the personal battle of which he had spoken? Did he really want her with the same strange, unpredictable ache within his heart that she felt when she thought of him?

  “I want him! I want him!” she whispered to the fountain.

  It seemed as if her hopes rose like the water into the sky, only to fall defeated into the pool below.

  How long she stayed in the Court of the Dolphins she had no idea.

  She only felt as if she was giving out herself to the man she loved, sending a winged message right from her very heart and soul towards him – wherever he might be.

  Once when they had been together she had felt, although he did not move and did not touch her, as if he was drawing her towards him.

  Now she felt as if she was drawing him, praying for him, longing for him, wanting him with her whole being, so that it seemed impossible that he should not be aware of it.

  Then again, within her mind, like the rustle of a serpent, came the thought of the Comtesse with her fascinating provocative face, her inviting lips and sensuous eyes!

  Despairingly, Anastasia thought that the King could never feel for her what he had felt for a woman so alluring.

  She had made the King believe that he must woo her mind, but at this moment it was not her mind that ached for him! It was not her mind that had felt that strange exciting thrill when he had pressed his lips on her palm.

  It was not her mind that had moved nearer to him so that their bodies touched as they lay together in the cold cave.

  ‘I want him to love me! Oh, God – I want him to love me!’ Anastasia prayed. ‘Even if it is not the sort of wonderful and all-consuming fire he spoke about, I will be grateful for anything he will give me – anything!’

  She felt as if her prayer winged its way into the sky high above her head.

  Then, slowly, she moved back through the labyrinth of marble passages and mounted the carved staircase to her lonely bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘I have been here for five days,’ Anastasia told herself as she stood looking out over the valley.

  She hoped that she would see soldiers riding along the dusty narrow road leading to the Palace and that one of them might be the King.

  ‘If he does not send for me tomorrow,’ she thought, ‘I will go to him, whatever he may think about it.’

  Every day there had been bulletins from Sergei brought to her in the evening by an Officer, but they had merely been brief military reports of what had occurred.

  As Anastasia had feared, the insurgents had regrouped themselves and there had been fierce fighting in some parts of the City and round the Palace.

  The third day after she had been at Huesca, Olivia had arrived in an Army wagon with an escort of soldiers and trunks filled with her gowns.

  Captain Aznar had ushered her into the room where Anastasia was sitting.

  “A visitor to see you, ma’am,” he said with a smile, “who I know will be welcome.”

  Anastasia looked round, then sprang to her feet.

  “Olivia!” she exclaimed, “I was hoping you would come!”

  “His Majesty arranged it,” Olivia replied, “and I have brought many of Your Majesty’s gowns with me.”

  “That is what I have longed for,” Anastasia sighed and then in a more serious voice asked, “what is happening in Sergei?”

  It was Olivia who told her far more than the King’s bulletins had done.

  She related how the revolution had started with the firing of guns, crowds of people yelling and shouting in the streets, and setting fire to a number of houses in the poorer quarters of the City.

  Those were the flames, Anastasia realise, that she and the King had seen as they rode up the side of the mountain.

  “At first there was a great deal of confu
sion in the Palace,” Olivia explained, “because no one knew what was happening. Then the Chamberlain and the other officials came to find His Majesty. I explained that you had both left for Leziga.”

  “What did the Palace officials think of that?” Anastasia asked.

  “They were surprised, Your Majesty, but as the noise outside grew more insistent they realised it had been a sensible move.”

  “Go on!” Anastasia urged.

  “The crowds – obviously incited to do so – screamed outside the Palace gates, ‘down with the Monarchy!’ and shouted disrespectful things about His Majesty.”

  Anastasia had no desire to know what these were, so she merely waited for Olivia to continue.

  “They started firing through the gates and it was all rather frightening. Then, later in the day, when we realised that the Army was marching along the coast road, everything seemed to change.”

  “In what way?” Anastasia asked.

  “I think, Your Majesty, a number of people did not believe me when I said the King had gone to Leziga. They thought that you had both gone to France.”

  “How could they believe that His Majesty would do anything so disloyal of his own free will?” Anastasia asked angrily.

  Then she realised that it would be an obvious theory, considering how friendly the King was meant to be with the Emperor and how strong the French influence was in Sergei.

  “Pedro and I went to the top of the Palace, Your Majesty,” Olivia continued. “We could see our troops advancing and hear the gunfire and see the revolutionaries being driven back.”

  “They had arms and weapons?” Anastasia asked.

  “All of French origin,” Olivia answered, “all of the very latest design! Pedro overheard the soldiers in the Palace talking about it.”

  Anastasia gave a little sigh.

  “They were defeated?”

  “By His Majesty!” Olivia cried, “and, when he rode at the head of his troops into the centre of the City, everyone cheered him!

  “That was a dangerous thing to do,” Anastasia exclaimed. “He could easily have been shot by a sniper or by someone in the crowd.”

  “We all recognised that, but there is nothing Mauronians admire more than a man who is brave and not afraid of danger.”

  She clasped her hands together.

  “Pedro and I, Your Majesty, were in the Market Place. When the King spoke to us, we were at first proud and then because what he said was so moving, we were all in tears.”

  “What did His Majesty say?” Anastasia asked anxiously.

  “He promised the mistakes of the past would all be rectified and he pledged himself to make Maurona, with our help, a free and prosperous country.”

  There were tears in Olivia’s eyes, as if just to remember the emotions the King had aroused brought back vividly her feeling of pride and patriotism.

  Anastasia wished she had been there.

  She could visualise how magnificent the King must have looked and she was sure, without being told, that the new aura of authority and leadership he seemed to develop after the night in the cave would have been very impressive.

  That, she had told him, was what his people wanted. That was what they had longed for over the years and there could be no doubt now that they would follow him.

  It had been a joy, once Olivia had arrived, to change from the velvet riding habit of which she was heartily tired and put on one of the pretty gowns with its large crinoline she had brought with her from London.

  She had seen the admiration in the womens’ eyes when she had, as usual, gone out after luncheon through the Palace gates to walk amongst the crowds that assembled there every day.

  More and more people came, some from villages high up in the Pyrenees – so far that they had to start their journey before sunrise so as to reach the Palace in time for her appearance.

  It had been difficult to know what to do with so many floral tributes she received every afternoon and because she knew they were given to her with affection she could not bear to throw them away.

  Finally she instructed two of the village girls to make them into potpourri and big bowls of sweet fragrant flower petals began to appear everywhere in the Palace.

  She noticed that the sentries had been trebled on the gate and, when she questioned Captain Aznar about it, he replied,

  “The Officer in Command of the Dragoons, ma’am, does not approve of your taking such risks.”

  “Can he possibly think I am in danger from these gentle peasants?” Anastasia asked.

  “There is always the chance, ma’am, that a stranger might slip in amongst them. By now it will be known in Sergei where you are staying.”

  Sure enough, the following afternoon there was an incident that might have proved disastrous had it not been for the alertness of Captain Aznar.

  As Anastasia went through the gates, there appeared to be an even larger crowd than usual waiting.

  They looked very colourful. The women’s predominantly red skirts worn with black bodices and white embroidered blouses, the children with bright ribbons in their hair and the flowers that nearly all of them held in their hands, made it seem like a festival.

  Anastasia found it slightly embarrassing that many of the mothers asked her to bless their children.

  “How can I do such a thing?” she had asked Captain Aznar once she understood what they requested.

  “These people believe in the Divine Right of Kings, ma’am,” Captain Aznar replied, “and as Your Majesty is so exquisitely beautiful, kind and compassionate, already they believe you to be a Saint!”

  Anastasia looked at him in surprise as if she thought he was joking. Then she saw the expression in his eyes that told her that he felt very much the same about her as the peasants outside.

  More than once she was surprised at the adoration in his expression when they were talking together and she knew that when he had said he would not only die for her, but live for her, it had been an irrevocable vow.

  Anastasia was talking to a woman who had five children, four of whom could walk. She had brought them many miles to see their Queen, and the fifth child, a baby of only two months old, she had carried in her arms.

  “Bless them, Your Majesty, bless them!” she begged, “so that they will be lucky all through their lives.”

  “I am sure they will be lucky in having a mother who loves them,” Anastasia replied.

  But because she knew it would make this simple woman happy, she touched the children on their heads and hoped that the little prayer she said for them would not seem blasphemous.

  Just as she turned to move away to speak to someone else in the crowd, she saw a man on the outskirts make a sudden movement with his arm.

  She hardly had time to think that he might be doing something strange before Captain Aznar had put his arms round her and pulled her down on to the ground.

  A shot rang out deafeningly.

  There was a scream from the crowd, followed by a roar of anger, and the soldiers reached the man only just in time to prevent him from being torn to pieces.

  Captain Aznar helped Anastasia to her feet.

  “Are you all right?” he asked with a deep note of concern in his voice.

  “I am all right,” Anastasia answered a little shakily.

  The women surged towards her, crying out in their anxiety, kneeling down to touch the hem of her skirt, exclaiming at the shame that had come amongst them that anyone should have tried to hurt their Queen.

  “It is all right,” Anastasia said, her voice ringing out above the noise.

  “You must go back to the Palace, ma’am,” Captain Aznar insisted.

  “I have not talked to half the people,” Anastasia replied, “and the danger has now passed. Please ask them to calm down and be quiet. I do not wish to leave them.”

  Her assailant had been hurried away and Anastasia was to learn later that he had been taken to Sergei to await trial.

  “There might be another attempt
on your life, ma’am,” Captain Aznar persisted in a very low voice so that only Anastasia could hear him.

  “I think it unlikely,” Anastasia replied. “If there were other men here intending to kill me, they will have run away by now.”

  Despite Captain Aznar’s protests, she insisted on remaining the full hour she had allotted herself to move amongst the people.

  It was only when she at last returned to the Palace that she felt a little shaken, realising how near she had been to death.

  ‘What would the King have thought if he learnt that I was dead?’ she asked herself.

  Would he have minded, as she would mind if he was killed? Or would he be relieved that he need no longer be encumbered by a bride whom Queen Victoria had chosen for him?

  It was hard to think that he might have felt like that and yet, Anastasia told herself, there was always the possibility of it.

  *

  The second day after she had arrived at the Palace, carriages came driving up the unkept roadway carrying members of the distinguished Mauronian families who lived in the vicinity.

  They had expected simply to leave their names in the official visitors’ book, which stands in the hall of every Palace, and then drive away.

  To their surprise, however, Anastasia received them in person – and even more to their surprise, they found themselves sitting down comfortably with the Queen and enjoying a cup of tea.

  Never in the stiff protocol that had governed everything in the days of His Late Majesty had such a thing happened.

  What was more, the new Queen not only laughed and talked in an easy manner that made them feel at home, but she also seemed insatiably curious about their part of the realm, which they had thought for many years was of no interest to those who lived in Sergei.

  The first-comers left both astonished and captivated by Anastasia, and what they had to say about her brought an increasing number of their friends and neighbours on the following days.

  “I think, ma’am,” Captain Aznar said, “it would be wise for you to choose some Ladies-in-Waiting from among the noble families who have come here to pay their respects.”

  For the first time Anastasia refused to consider one of his suggestions.