Princess of the Midnight Ball

by Jessica Day George

  Angier adjusted his robes with great dignity and swept out before the guards could lay a hand on him. As he passed Rose and her sisters, he gave them a vicious look. “Evil never triumphs,” he hissed at them.

  “I know,” Rose retorted.

  The guards did have to lead away a babbling, wild-eyed Father Michel, who was insisting that he knew nothing of the other bishops’ illnesses, and that he was an innocent man. Schelker watched with a look of deep disappointment, then turned back to King Gregor and gave a little nod.

  King Gregor, in turn, looked to Galen. “Now that that unpleasantness is done, would you please enlighten us all?” His normal brusque manner was back.

  Galen came forward and bowed again amid the babble that arose from the council. He held up a hand for silence, waited until he got it, then said, “Your Majesty, every night, a deep sleep would fall upon your daughters’ attendants. The princesses then descended a golden stair through the floor of their sitting room.” He pulled something from the pouch at his belt: a charred bit of silk. “This was the rug that transformed into the staircase, now destroyed by fire at the hands of Princess Hyacinth.” He laid it on the table in front of King Gregor.

  “They passed through a gate of silver and pearl and into a forest of silver trees.” Galen reached over and plucked something from Rose’s hair. She started and he smiled at her, then laid a silver leaf before her father.

  King Gregor lifted the silver leaf and studied it carefully. All along the table, the councillors watched Galen with rapt attention.

  “After the forest they were met on the shores of a great black lake by twelve suitors, who took them in golden boats to a palace on an island at the center of the lake.” Galen took out a handkerchief and spread it before the king, revealing the remaining teaspoonful of glittering black sand. “There they danced till dawn with their suitors, the sons of the King Under Stone.” And Galen produced a silver goblet set with precious stones. “It was he who held your daughters in thrall. He who kept them from speaking a word of this enchantment.”

  The prime minister could not hold back. “And how was it that this fiend got control of the princesses? Young ladies of their upbringing do not have dealing with devils!”

  “Nor did they.” Galen addressed him calmly. Rose had started forward, a protest on her lips, but Galen squeezed her hand and stopped her. “At least, not of their own will.

  “They were bound by the ill-made promise of another,” Galen said. “They are innocent of witchcraft, as is their father. The deaths of those princes were brought about by the King Under Stone, who was as real as you or I, and as evil as Bishop Schelker is good. The King Under Stone did this without the knowledge or the aid of the princesses. But now he is dead, many of his sons are dead, and those that live are bound within their dark realm.”

  “How can you be sure?” King Gregor put a protective hand on Hyacinth’s arm.

  “Galen made a chain,” Rose said, stepping forward. After years of enforced silence, she couldn’t bear to let Galen be the one to tell the whole story. “Of black wool knit with silver needles made from the branches of this tree.” She held up the leaf. “The trees in the underworld were sprouted by Mama’s brooch, the one given to her by her godfather in Breton. The gate is chained, and the knot pierced with a silver cross. The creatures of the Kingdom Under Stone can no longer influence our world.”

  “You did this?” King Gregor was on his feet now, looking at Galen like a man reprieved. “You saved my daughters and barred the underworld?”

  “Yes, sire,” Galen said quietly. “Walter Vogel helped me, and so did Fraulein Anne. I had the cook boil the chain with basil and nightshade, to strengthen it, and the cross was my mother’s.”

  “He was invisible!” Petunia could no longer be contained either. “He was running around, and shooting the bad princes, and yelling, and he threw me and Pansy on the raft so that we could get away. Oh! The shawl he made Rosie was magic, and it turned into a raft! And he gave Lily a gun, and she shot someone!”

  Pansy tugged her father’s sleeve. “And he made me this,” she whispered, and showed King Gregor her now rather mangled red puffball.

  “Did he?” King Gregor lifted Pansy in his arms. “What a brave young man!” He gave Galen a speculative look. “And how exactly were you able to make yourself invisible, Master Werner?”

  “With this,” Galen said. He drew a dull purple cape from his satchel and threw it about his shoulders. When he fastened the gold clasp, he disappeared.

  Even having seen it before, several of Rose’s sisters cried out, along with the councillors. Petunia clapped, though, and stepped forward to poke the air where he had been.

  “Galen, where are you?”

  “Right here.”

  Petunia was lifted in the air by invisible hands. Then she disappeared too. They both reappeared a moment later, and Galen put her down, looking exhausted but smiling all the same.

  “I went under the cape and went invisible,” Petunia squealed. “Rosie! Did you see?”

  “I saw,” Rose said, taking her hand. Her gaze was on Bishop Schelker.

  But it was the prime minister who spoke.

  “So,” Lord Schiller said. “Witchcraft!”

  “Oh, stuff!” The minister of finance, an elderly man with thin wisps of white hair, spoke up. “Such magical artifacts were common in my grandmother’s day. I remember her telling me of seven league boots and the like.” He held out a tremulous hand. “May I see that cape?”

  “Of course, sir.” Galen handed it over, but with reluctance. “It was given to me by an old woman I met on my way here to Bruch,” he said.

  “A witch,” someone hissed.

  “I believe she may have been one of the magicians who bound Under Stone into his prison,” Galen said, stopping all further comment. Even Bishop Schelker merely nodded and looked thoughtful.

  “Whoever she was, if she ever comes to my gate I shall make her a baroness,” Rose’s father said. He turned to address his councillors. “Are you yet satisfied that my daughters are not guilty of the deaths of those unfortunate princes?”

  The councillors argued, they muttered and pounded the table. Walter remained silent, and when Galen looked to him, the old man simply shrugged. There was no way, Galen supposed, that Walter could prove who he was.

  Bishop Schelker asked that Angier’s accusations be discounted, since he had overstepped his authority. As for himself, the quiet Westfalian bishop clearly believed that Galen and the princesses were innocent of any wrongdoing.

  King Gregor finally shouted, “Enough! I am the king, and if I am satisfied, then you all are too!” The councillors closed their mouths and subsided.

  King Gregor studied Galen for a moment. “Young man, I know that you offered your aid without anticipation of reward, and for that I commend you.” The councillors all banged their fists on the table in agreement. “But in light of the great service you have rendered my daughters, and your country, I believe that some reward is in order.” More banging.

  Galen was bright red to the tips of his ears. “Really, sire, I had no thought but to save Ro—to help the princesses.”

  Rose felt her own blush burning up her cheeks. She doubted that anyone had missed Galen’s slip of the tongue, and thought that her heart would beat its way right out of her chest with joy.

  Her father’s lips twitched in amusement. “I think it would be unfair of me not to reward the man who saved my girls, and my kingdom. And it would be more than unfair to offer a lesser reward, simply because your nobleness of spirit is not matched by a noble name.

  “Galen Werner, you may choose one of my daughters to be your bride, and when I die you shall sit beside her as co-ruler of Westfalin.”

  “Your Majesty, I—”

  “Take it, boy!” shouted the minister of finance.

  “You deserve it, Galen,” Walter said with great conviction.

  “You do, indeed,” Bishop Schelker said. He shot Walter a shrewd
look.

  “I—I don’t know—”

  Rose felt her knees shaking. Did he not love her after all?

  “Psst, Galen?” Pansy tugged on his arm. Galen leaned down. “If Rose doesn’t want you,” the little girl whispered loudly, “you can marry me.”

  Galen laughed shakily. “Thanks, Pansy.”

  “Oh, Rose! Don’t just stand there like a lump,” Poppy said, poking her in the back. “If he’s too embarrassed, you should be the one to say something.”

  “Poppy!” Daisy looked scandalized. “It’s not Rose’s place to—”

  Under cover of their squabbling, Rose took Galen’s hand and moved closer to him. “Do you want to marry me?” she whispered in a much quieter tone than Pansy had.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “If neither of you is going to speak up,” King Gregor said, “I shall simply decide it myself!”

  “Father,” Rose protested, “that won’t be necessary!”

  “I choose Rose,” Galen blurted out at the same time.

  “There. Done. Easy.” King Gregor clapped his hands. “Now, I believe a feast is in order. Someone send to the kitchens for some food and drink.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rose and Galen said in unison, both of them grinning broadly.

  Spring

  Galen married Rose under a canopy of white silk, erected by the swan fountain where they had first met. Thanks to the hard work of Reiner, Walter, and the rest of the gardeners, the Queen’s Garden had never looked lovelier.

  At Galen’s suggestion, the ancient oak tree where he suspected Maude and the dark princes crossed between the mortal world and the realm of Under Stone was torn out. The ground was blessed by Bishop Schelker, and a rowan tree was planted instead.

  Galen had offered to help, but the king had knighted him, and it wouldn’t have been proper. Walter had made each princess a crown out of the flowers she was named for. Rose was resplendent in her white gown with white and red roses encircling her brow.

  Bishop Schelker performed the service. He had successfully petitioned to have the Interdict lifted and the rites of the church restored to Westfalin. Angier and Father Michel had been escorted back to Roma in disgrace.

  The details behind the princesses’ mystery had not been revealed to the public, but the archbishop had issued a public statement declaring the deaths of the princes accidental and pardoning the royal family and Anne.

  At the insistence of the princesses, there was no dancing at the wedding reception. Instead, sofas had been positioned all around the garden so that people could sit to talk and eat. Galen saw Walter taking advantage of a pink-upholstered sofa beneath a spreading elm tree and raised his glass. Walter raised his own glass in return, and so did his companion. Galen blinked: he hadn’t noticed before, but an elderly woman in a dull purple gown was seated beside Walter. Around her waist was a bulky blue sash that looked as if it had started out life as a woolen scarf. Galen blinked again, and Walter and the woman were gone.

  “Rose, did you see—”

  But Galen never did finish his question. A young man in a worn soldier’s uniform was limping up the path from the rear of the gardens. As he passed each group of revelers, they fell silent and watched him. Looking down, Galen could see that Rose was staring at the young man, her face pale.

  “Lily,” Rose said in a choked voice. “Lily!”

  Lily, who had been wiping cake off Petunia’s face, turned around. She saw the young man and dropped her damp handkerchief. He broke into as much of a run as he could manage, and Lily fairly flew into his arms.

  “Heinrich,” she sobbed.

  “Heinrich!” Galen’s cousin Ulrike screamed with joy and ran to the young man, hovering impatiently until he finished kissing Lily and could embrace her as well.

  Tante Liesel fainted, and the widow Zelda Weiss rushed to her side. Galen started to go to her as well, but Rose held him back, her eyes wide as she nodded toward Reiner Orm.

  Reiner’s face was dark. “Ulrike,” he barked. “Get away from that man!”

  “But it’s Heinrich,” Ulrike said through her tears.

  Now she and Lily were holding hands with Heinrich, the three of them standing in a circle. With a shaking finger, Lily traced the long white scar that ran down one side of Heinrich’s face. He raised her hand and kissed it.

  “My son,” Liesel moaned as Zelda revived her.

  “Mother.” Limping painfully, Heinrich started toward her, one arm still around Lily.

  “We have no son,” Reiner said.

  “That is a shame,” King Gregor said. “Because it seems to me that my daughter Lily is quite fond of that young man. And with her eldest sister married, I am looking for a suitable match for Lily.”

  Rose chimed in, “Soldiers make very good husbands, Father.” She put her arm around Galen’s waist.

  “So I am finding, my dear,” King Gregor said.

  “Sire,” Heinrich said, clearly torn between going to his mother and dealing with his father’s disownment. “I am Heinrich Orm.”

  “I know who you are, lad,” King Gregor said kindly. The wedding had put him in an expansive mood.

  “I love your daughter Lily very much, sire,” Heinrich said. Lily, holding tight to his hand, blushed. “Only this injury has kept me from coming to you sooner, to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  “Oh, Father, please say yes,” Lily pleaded, her cheeks wet with tears and her eyes like stars.

  “I was with the Eagle Regiment,” Heinrich said with pride. “We were the first into Analousia and the last to leave. I was injured while escorting our new ambassador to his first meeting with the Analousian king.”

  “Is that so?” King Gregor looked impressed.

  “He abandoned his duties to the Queen’s Garden, sire,” Reiner said, his face purple. “He defied my wishes! I have disowned him!”

  “Reiner, hold your tongue!” On her feet once more, Tante Liesel came forward and embraced her son, kissing his cheeks and wetting them with her own tears. “I let you place the mourning garland above our door. I let you speak of our son as dead because when word came from the neighbors’ sons of the horrors of their first battle, and no letter from Heinrich, I assumed that he was dead.

  “But he isn’t,” she went on, her throat choked with more tears. “He’s alive! And in love still with his beautiful princess! Can’t you see, Reiner? We have been blessed!” She held out a hand to Galen, who took it, Rose still clasped to his other side. “Our son returned to us! Dear Renata’s boy returned and saved the princesses from who knows what horrors! It’s a miracle!”

  The whole party held their breath, their eyes on Reiner Orm. At last, a suspicious moisture in his eyes, Reiner blew out his breath and nodded his head. “Welcome home, son,” he said grudgingly.

  “Thank you, sir,” Heinrich said.

  Reiner reached out as though to shake hands in a manly fashion. Heinrich let go of Lily and his mother and embraced his father.

  King Gregor shook his head and muttered something about “stubborn old fool.” Galen caught Rose’s eye, and they shared a small smile. Then, while Lily helped Heinrich to a sofa and Orchid brought them cake and lemonade, Rose sat down on another sofa with a sigh.

  Galen sank down beside her. “So that’s my cousin,” he said musingly.

  “Yes, and that’s the great scandal of Bruch as well,” Rose said. “The gardener’s son fell in love with a princess, and then his father declared him dead when he joined the army.” She shook her head. “It was all the gossips could talk about, until our worn-out dancing slippers came to light.”

  Galen touched her cheek. “Will you never dance with me? I rather enjoyed that time, at the Midnight Ball. But I wouldn’t mind being visible, so that you’ll step on my toes less often.”

  Rose made a face at him. “Ha! I’m a wonderful dancer! But I did promise my father no more worn-out dancing slippers.”

  “Very well, then,” Galen said. He leaned down and pulled off her shoes
, tossing them over his shoulder into a lilac bush. “If I may have this dance?” Galen led Rose out onto the smooth lawn and waltzed her across the soft green ground until the sunlight died and stars sparkled in the black night sky.

  The Knitting Patterns

  A man who knits? Unheard of!

  Well, perhaps not …

  For centuries, commercial knitting guilds were for men only, because knitting was considered too complicated for women! But even after women were allowed to take part in the “manly art” of knitting, men still continued to knit. In many Scandinavian schools, everyone is taught to knit and has to complete a pair of mittens before they can graduate. I had a friend in college who had a beautiful pair of mittens and matching snowflake-pattern hat that her Swedish husband had made in school. And it really wasn’t uncommon for soldiers in the first and second World Wars to knit their own socks, washcloths, and hats.

  My grandmother started to teach me to knit when I was thirteen years old, but when she had trouble explaining something to me, my grandfather took over. He started knitting to pass the time on long business trips—taught by his boss, no less—and made beautiful blankets for everyone in the family. After he passed away, I finished his last blanket as a gift for my mother.

  Rose’s Shawl

  Materials:

  US #13 circular needle

  (You may choose to start on straight needles, and switch to the longer circular when shawl becomes too large for the straights.)

  Approximately 430 yards bulky weight yarn.

  Tapestry needle to finish ends

  Instructions:

  Cast on 4 stitches. Fasten a safety pin or split-ring marker to the first stitch, to indicate the right side of the work. All odd-numbered rows will start with this marker on the right. Row 1: Knit 1, knit into the front of the next stitch, don’t drop it off the left needle, knit into the back of the stitch, drop it off. Repeat, knit last stitch. You now have 6 stitches. Row 2: Knit 2, knit into the front and back of the next 2 stitches, knit 2. 8 stitches. Row 3: Knit across. Row 4: Knit 3, Yarn Over (loop the yarn over the right needle to add a stitch without knitting), purl 2, YO, knit 3. Repeat rows 3 and 4 until piece is 12 inches long. You can now add flower pattern, available as a PDF at www.jessicadaygeorge.com. If pattern is not desired, continue to work Rows 3 and 4 until shawl measures fingertip to fingertip of wearer. Bind off.