“Is there anything living in the moat, guarding the Castle?” said Catherine, popping her head out the window again. “I seem to recall reading something about crocodiles . . .”
“I don’t see anything,” the ghost said dubiously. “Just a few pike and carp hardly big enough to be worth getting your rod out.”
While he was still speaking, the huge drawbridge came crashing down. It hit Sir Jasper right on the top of his gently glowing head without harming him in the least, passed through his body, and slammed into place across the moat. Leaving Sir Jasper standing, confused but unaffected, on top of the drawbridge. The Forest Castle Seneschal came hurrying forward, with as many people as he’d been able to gather together on such short notice, to form a guard of honour. Sir Jasper took one look at all the people running straight at him, disappeared immediately, and reappeared back at the carriage. Catherine and Gertrude were already getting out, so he went and hid behind them. The Seneschal crashed to a halt at the very edge of the drawbridge, found he was too out of breath to say anything, and bought himself some time by bowing formally to everyone in front of him.
“Profuse apologies, Princess Catherine!” he said finally. “We only received word you’d arrived in the Forest a few hours ago! We did send an honour guard to meet you and escort you safely here, but since we only had a rough idea of where you were . . . It would appear we missed each other.” He smiled weakly, spread his arms in a these things happen sort of way, and swallowed hard. “King Rufus and Prince Richard are on their way, I’m sure . . . Do come in, please! We have been expecting you, all appearances to the contrary. Your rooms are prepared.”
So they all went inside. The Seneschal led the way, with Princess Catherine and Lady Gertrude strolling regally along on either side of him. Sir Jasper brought up the rear, staring at everything with great interest. The Seneschal had shot several looks in his direction but wasn’t feeling confident enough to ask any questions as yet. The Sombre Warrior swung down from his great horse and walked behind them, followed by the Royal carriage and the six soldiers. The Seneschal led the titled guests into the Castle, leaving the Sombre Warrior to see that his men were found room in the barracks, and then to ensure that the horses were properly cared for in the stables.
• • •
The Seneschal led his honoured guests into the Castle entrance hall, looked quickly about him, saw there was still no sign of the King or the Prince, and thought quickly. He bowed formally to the Princess again.
“Would you mind awfully just . . . waiting a while, in this reception chamber, just for a few moments, while I go and see what’s keeping everyone?”
Catherine gave him her best regal nod, and the Seneschal practically broke in two from bowing repeatedly as he led them to a side door. The room he showed them into clearly wasn’t a formal reception chamber, just a side room, but it seemed comfortable enough, so no one said anything. Catherine and Gertrude and Sir Jasper looked about them in an ostentatiously unimpressed way, and the Seneschal shut the door quickly and hurried off.
Catherine stood in the centre of the room, arms folded, not deigning to sit. The room was actually quite a bit larger than she was used to. In Castle Midnight it would have passed for a suite all on its own. It did seem comfortable enough, though all the fittings and furnishings were very old-fashioned, to her taste. The portraits on the walls were in a whole mixture of clashing styles, from the painfully realistic to the exceedingly stylized, and Catherine scowled as she was reminded of the stylised portrait of Prince Richard that she’d been shown before. She still had no idea of what the man really looked like. It occurred to her she was finally about to meet the man she’d come all this way to marry, and a cold chill settled in her stomach. She wanted to just leave, walk out, and . . . go home. But she knew she couldn’t. No way back, no way out. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and glared at Lady Gertrude.
“Prince Richard had better turn up soon! But I am warning you: if he’s got a single wart, or is even slightly hunchbacked, this marriage is off!”
“You can be very trying sometimes, my pet,” said Gertrude. “Of course he hasn’t got any of those things!”
“You haven’t met him,” said Catherine. “He might have.”
“I would have been told,” said Gertrude.
Catherine gave her a hard look. “You mean, we would have been told.”
“Of course, my poppet.”
They didn’t know Richard was watching them through the half-open door. Richard had had an idea. If any of his friends or advisors had been around, and had known this, they would have trampled all over one another in their rush to talk him out of it. Whatever it was. Which was why he hadn’t told any of them; he was determined not to be talked out of it. Richard had dressed himself up as a servant, in particularly scruffy and even unclean clothing, and topped it off with a marvellously ratty false beard. His idea was that if Catherine was met by a rude enough servant, her pride would be outraged, and she would take umbrage and stalk out of the Castle and insist on being taken home again. And then the marriage would be off, and no one could put any blame on him. The Prince was very fond of romantic adventure novels, in which this kind of thing happened all the time. He paused a moment to practice his slouch in front of a handy mirror. He looked awful. He dropped his reflection a sly wink and then slammed the door all the way open and swaggered into the room.
“Hello!” he said aggressively. “Who might you be?”
“I am Catherine, of Redhart,” said the Princess. “And this is my companion, Lady Gertrude.”
“We all have our troubles,” said Richard. “Who is the gentleman in the nightie?”
“Don’t mind him,” said Catherine. “He’s a ghost.”
Richard looked sharply at Sir Jasper, who smiled affably back. The ghost had lowered his glow as much as he could, but there was still no way he was going to pass for normal. Or even mortal.
“Well,” said Richard, in his best practiced obnoxious tone, “I don’t know about this . . . No one said anything to me. I can’t let you just go wandering about the Castle; you could be anyone! Do you have any form of identification?”
“I am expected!” said Catherine crushingly.
Richard sniffed loudly. “Oh, they all say that. I’ll have to see some proof you are who you claim to be. Can you show me a birthmark? Scars? How about a tattoo?” He grinned nastily and threw in a full-on leer, just for good measure.
“This is intolerable!” said Catherine, going straight to full volume. “I travel all this way to get here, and now they don’t want to let me in? That’s it! The marriage is off! I will not be talked to like this! Come, Lady Gertrude, we shall return to our carriage and show our backs to this whole sorry excuse for a Kingdom!”
“No, no, my sweet, my poppet, my Princess!” said Gertrude, placing herself bodily between Catherine and the door. “You can’t judge a Castle by one rude servant! Remember how important this marriage is!”
Catherine glowered at the disguised Prince, who was now chewing at his false beard and scratching himself in an unpleasant way.
“All right,” she growled. “I’ll stay. For honour, and duty, and all that stuff. But no more nonsense about identification!”
“Of course, of course, my poppet,” said Gertrude. She let the disguised Prince have the full force of her glare. “You! Fellow! Here is the official invitation from King Rufus, approved by your House of Parliament, calling us to the Forest Castle for the Royal wedding!”
Richard took the heavy parchment, unfolded it, glanced at all the many official phrases and the attached crimson wax seals, and tossed it casually over his shoulder. “Seems to be in order. You’ll have to register, though.”
He took down a large volume from the bookshelves, opened it, and blew dust all over the Princess. She coughed and sneezed loudly.
“Nasty cold you’ve got there,” Richard observed brightly.
Catherine brushed dusty tears from her eyes. “Let
me at him! I’ll brain him!”
Gertrude grabbed her firmly by the arm. “Well-bred young ladies do not brain people!”
“All right,” said Catherine. “You do it.”
Gertrude let that one pass. She carefully released Catherine’s arm, waited a moment to be sure nothing violent or diplomatically unforgivable would occur, and then glared at Richard. “Listen, fellow! I am Lady-in-Waiting to the Princess Catherine.”
“Really?” said Richard. “What are you waiting for? Though I think I could probably guess. Left it a bit late, haven’t you?”
“Look here!” said Gertrude.
“Where?” said Richard, peering about him excitedly.
Lady Gertrude hung on to her self-control with an heroic effort, turned her back on the disguised Prince, and glared at Sir Jasper.
“You talk to him, sir ghost! Give him the full force of your personality. He deserves it.”
Sir Jasper ambled forward, happy to be of service, and he and the Prince studied each other with great interest.
“And . . . who or what might you be?” said Richard.
“I’m Sir Jasper. I’m a ghost.”
“Been one long?” said Richard.
“Who knows?” said Sir Jasper.
“I thought ghosts only came out at night,” said Richard, with the air of one laying down a winning card.
“I never did have much sense of time,” said Sir Jasper. “I’m always late.”
“Late?”
“Of course. I’m the late Sir Jasper.”
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” said Richard. “Age?”
“Uncertain.”
“Occupation?”
“Unearthly.”
“I think I lost that one on points,” said Richard.
“Anything else you want to ask me?” said Sir Jasper.
“Is it worth it?”
“Not really.”
“Then I think I’d like to speak to the Princess again, please,” said Richard. “If only because your entire existence makes my head ache.”
“Just doing my job,” said Sir Jasper.
Catherine came reluctantly forward again, to take Sir Jasper’s place. The script Richard had worked out in his head, full of fine insults and put-downs, had clearly gone right out the window, but as he couldn’t see any way of retreating with honour, he carried on.
“I’ll have to have your particulars, Princess,” he said.
“If you like,” Catherine said sweetly. “But I doubt they’ll fit you.”
And for a moment they actually smiled at each other.
And that was when the Seneschal came bustling in, apologising profusely for keeping the Princess and her party waiting, and declaring that her personal chambers were quite definitely ready and waiting for her, if she would just care to follow him. And all the way through this, the Seneschal kept shooting brief glances at the disguised Prince. He clearly considered saying something, and then decided against it, on the grounds that whatever question he asked, the answer was unlikely to be anything he wanted to hear. He stopped speaking before he descended into babbling, and bowed formally to Princess Catherine and Lady Gertrude.
“Welcome to the Forest Kingdom. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay with us.”
“Don’t put money on it,” said Catherine.
She started out the open door, and the Seneschal and Lady Gertrude had to sprint after her to keep up. Sir Jasper ambled off after them, then stopped at the door and glanced back, just in time to see Prince Richard peel off his false beard and scratch at his itchy chin.
“Now that is a good trick!” said Sir Jasper. “I used to be able to take my whole head off . . .”
“Sir Jasper!” said a strident Princessy voice from outside. The ghost shrugged at the Prince and walked through the door, which had swung shut while he was talking. Prince Richard considered the closed door.
“Well, that didn’t go as intended, in any number of ways. So that’s Catherine . . . beautiful, intelligent, doesn’t take any nonsense from anyone. Not at all what I was expecting. It’s not often I find someone who can keep up with me. I . . . don’t dislike her. Still not going to marry her, though. Just on general principles. I did like her ghost; it seems some of the old stories about Castle Midnight are true after all.” He grinned suddenly. “She must have made an impression on me. She’s got me talking to myself.”
• • •
The Seneschal hadn’t led his distinguished guests far into the Castle before the First Minister and the Leader of the Loyal Opposition turned up, hurrying forward to greet their Royal guest with many bowed heads and formal smiles. Word had reached them of raised voices, and even a threat to leave, and they were both ready to say or do, or at the very least promise to do, whatever it took to persuade the Princess to stay. The Seneschal introduced Peregrine de Woodville and Henry Wallace to Catherine and Gertrude, but his nerve failed him when it came to Sir Jasper, so he introduced them to Catherine twice. The politicians were so intent on making a good impression on the Princess that they completely overlooked the ghost.
“Yes, I did consider leaving,” Catherine said flatly, speaking right over the First Minister’s flowery words. “Given the way I was treated by that . . . awful servant. But I have been persuaded that it is my duty to stay. Do not give me cause to reconsider. Because I feel it is also my duty to make it very clear that not even the whole Forest Army could stop me if I should decide to return home!”
“Of course, of course,” said Peregrine, smiling till his cheeks ached, and quietly contemplating the quickest way of sneaking a powerful sedative into her food. “I assure you, the servant in question will be found and disciplined, and every effort will be made to make you welcome and comfortable in Forest Castle. And look, here comes Prince Richard himself, to bid you welcome. At last . . .”
It was a sign of how thrown the First Minister was that he actually saw Prince Richard’s arrival as a good thing. Henry Wallace readied himself to jump in and if need be talk right over the Prince if he said anything unsuitable. But Richard was now dressed in his best formal attire (having used a side route to get ahead of them), and he smiled graciously as he addressed Catherine and her party. He was warm and courteous and polite, every inch the welcoming host. He bowed low to Catherine and Gertrude, and nodded cheerfully to Sir Jasper.
Catherine’s scowl slowly smoothed out, as she got her first look at her intended. Richard was tall and handsome, gracious and stately, and seemed to know how to address a Princess properly. Which was . . . something. It never even occurred to Catherine to associate the polite Prince with the very rude servant. Why should it? Princes disguised themselves as the lower orders only in bad romantic novels.
Lady Gertrude wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t want to make a fuss and cause a scene, just when everything was seemingly going so well. So she held her peace and went along. And everyone else was just relieved that Richard and Catherine were actually talking to each other instead of throwing things. Sir Jasper recognised Richard immediately, and smiled and waved cheerfully at him. Richard pretended not to notice. Peregrine and Henry had only just realised there was a third person in the Redhart party, and considered Sir Jasper with growing alarm. Finally Peregrine put his hand up, like a child in a classroom, to get the Princess’ attention.
“Excuse me, Princess Catherine, but . . .”
“Yes, he’s a ghost,” said Catherine. “And he’s with me. Want to make something of it?”
“Oh no, no, your highness,” said Peregrine. “I suppose every country has its own customs . . .”
“Even if no one thought to mention them to us,” murmured Henry.
“Oh, I’m not from Redhart!” said Sir Jasper. “I’m bred and dead in the Forest Land, man and ghost. In fact, I’m almost sure I was a knight of the realm. And I have been to this Castle before . . . Yes. Very definitely. So much looks familiar . . .”
Peregrine looked at Catherine. “He’s not thinking of m
oving in, is he?”
“He’s with me,” said Catherine. “Until I say otherwise.”
What could have been a very awkward moment was fortunately defused by the arrival of the Sombre Warrior. He’d changed out of his armour and replaced the steel helm with the famous chalk white porcelain mask. He bowed formally, if stiffly, to Peregrine and Henry, and a little more deeply to Prince Richard.
“The ghost is part of our official retinue,” he said. “Didn’t you get the note?”
Peregrine and Henry gave up, and nodded formally to Sir Jasper, who didn’t even notice because he’d got bored with the whole proceeding and was concentrating on turning his glow up and down. Richard offered Catherine his arm.
“May I have the honour of escorting your highness to her prepared chambers?”
And Catherine surprised everyone, including herself, by slipping her arm through his and allowing him to lead her away. The Seneschal and Lady Gertrude followed after the two young people with silent sighs of relief, and even exchanged an understanding glance as they followed their charges up the main stairway. It’s never easy guiding young Royals, especially when the Royals know they don’t have to be guided if they don’t want to be. The Seneschal moved in beside Gertrude and murmured in her ear.
“She’s going to be trouble, isn’t she?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” said Gertrude.
Sir Jasper and the Sombre Warrior brought up the rear, maintaining a respectful distance from the Royals and each other. Peregrine and Henry watched them all go.
“Did you see that?” said Henry. “The Prince was nice to her! Nice! What the hell is he doing?”
“I think he’s trying to confuse us to death,” said Peregrine bitterly.
• • •
Catherine’s iron will softened even further as she took in the extended suite of rooms King Rufus had provided for her and Gertrude. The Seneschal bustled from room to room, showing them where everything was, and pointing out items of special interest, with all the enthusiasm of a hotel porter anticipating a really generous tip. Richard stayed leaning in the main doorway, watching it all with a quiet smile, saying nothing. Every single room was unusually large and luxurious, by Redhart standards, though Catherine was careful not to appear too impressed with anything. The fittings and furnishings were still decidedly old-fashioned, as far as she was concerned. Great chunky wardrobes and chests of drawers, with solid, heavy brass, and none of the delicate style Catherine was used to. Castle Midnight might be old, even ancient, but King William prided himself on keeping up with all the latest styles and fashions.
Once In a Blue Moon Page 28
