The Knight's Forbidden Princess

by Carol Townend

  Tellingly, the overseer’s hand crept to a bulging pouch on his belt. Someone must have paid for them to be allowed to rest beneath the Princesses’ tower. Rodrigo tipped back his head. The tower stood stark against a purpling sky that was sprinkled with early stars. Windows were shuttered. A telltale yellow glimmered through the cracks; inside, the lamps must already be lit. Had one of the Princesses arranged this? His Princess?

  ‘Someone has paid for us to eat outside?’

  ‘No questions!’

  Rodrigo shrugged. ‘As you wish.’

  There was no sense arguing and, in any case, Rodrigo wasn’t sure he wanted to. Inigo was in pain, though he never complained. Inigo was also bored and exhausted, they all were. An evening resting by the wall rather than in their stinking quarters might lift them out of their malaise. And if they could attract the attention of the Princesses, well, at the very least it might prove amusing.

  Aye, an evening’s flirtation with the tyrant’s daughters would be most enlivening. He almost smiled. A taste of forbidden delight might be exactly what they needed.

  * * *

  At the top of the tower, Leonor pushed open a shutter. The mountains rose in front of her, a black silhouette beneath a canopy of stars. Wondering about the land that lay beyond the mountain range, Leonor discarded her veil and draped it over the window ledge. Wanton disobedience, maybe, but it was dark outside, no one would see. In any case, she no longer cared whether she was an obedient daughter or not. Father was impossible. How could he have sold their beloved horses? What would he do next? The questions echoed round and round. Was worse to come?

  Constanza was stretched out on the cushion next to her, the silver lute abandoned at her feet, her eyes blank and her face expressionless. It was awful to see her staring up at the ceiling like a dead thing. She had lost all hope.

  Leonor understood how she felt. ‘Constanza, what are you thinking about?’

  ‘Father.’

  ‘Me too.’ Leonor’s chest heaved. ‘Sometimes I hate him.’

  Constanza gave her a pained look. ‘Hush, Leonor, you must never say so.’

  ‘I love Snowstorm, I wanted to keep her.’ Leonor’s eyes stung.

  ‘That’s not the point though, is it?’ Constanza said. ‘Our interference angered Father and we must pay.’

  ‘I hope that whoever buys our horses will look after them properly.’

  ‘There’d be no point in buying three beautiful mares only to mistreat them, I am sure they will be cared for.’

  Leonor managed a strained smile. ‘I pray that is true.’

  The heavens were alive with stars and Leonor glimpsed a tiny flicker of darkness, a bat was flying past the tower. She reached for Constanza’s hand and her gaze fell to their veils, sitting limply across the window ledge.

  ‘Our small rebellion,’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘Our very small rebellion.’

  Constanza gave her a puzzled look. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Our veils, we are near the window and we are not wearing them,’ Leonor said. ‘What would Inés say?’

  Constanza shrugged. ‘It is night, and we need not worry, the ravine is empty.’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that the only place where we are granted any freedom is in this tower, where we are locked in.’

  Constanza gave a tight smile. ‘Ironic, isn’t it?’

  ‘I should warn you that I have had enough of small rebellions. It’s time to do something a little more significant.’

  Eyes wide, Constanza stared. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I want to run away.’

  ‘Leonor!’

  Fired by a gut-wrenching mix of anger and fear, Leonor ignored the shock on Constanza’s face and continued. ‘If we ran away, we could find somewhere to start a new life, the three of us. Together. Think about it. There must be somewhere where we can have command of our lives.’

  ‘We?’ Constanza looked absolutely horrified. ‘Leonor, you mustn’t speak like this.’

  ‘Father has destroyed my trust in him. He showers us with gifts when we please him, and when we displease him, he takes them away. He locks us up. We are Father’s playthings, we only exist in so far as we please him.’

  ‘He can’t imprison us for ever.’

  Leonor gave an indecorous snort. ‘Can’t he? Well, it makes no difference. Even if he gives us each a key to our tower door, I’ll never trust him again.’

  Constanza reached for her hand, her eyes glassy with tears. ‘Leonor, it does no good to speak this way.’

  ‘I am sorry if it upsets you. I cannot live like this any more. I will not.’ Leonor’s chest heaved. ‘Don’t you wonder what Mamá’s life would have been like if Father hadn’t taken her captive?’

  ‘She would have married a Spanish lord and we would never have been born.’

  Leonor stared pensively at Constanza’s lute. ‘It’s a pity Inés tells us so little. I’d like to know what Mamá would think about her daughters being locked in a harem until the end of their days.’

  ‘I am sure Father will relent soon.’

  ‘Constanza, you’re a dreamer. If we stay here, we will never be free.’

  A cat mewed outside the tower. Closer to hand, Leonor heard a clunk and the thud of heavy boots, the guards must be checking the palace boundaries. Everyday regular noises that had once brought comfort. No longer. We are shut in. What will Father do next?

  Chink-chink.

  How strange, wasn’t that the sound of prisoners at work?

  Chink-chink. Chink-chink.

  Leonor exchanged a puzzled glance with Constanza. ‘They can’t be clearing the gully at this hour.’

  Constanza pushed the shutter a little wider and leaned over the window ledge. When she turned back to Leonor, her expression had lightened. ‘Leonor, come and see.’

  The ledge was cool to the touch. At the foot of the wall, a faint light glimmered, a lantern. There was movement in the shadows.

  Chink-chink. Chink-chink.

  A spark flared at the base of the tower. A flame shot skywards, and as it strengthened, the shadows reformed. Three men were crouched around a small fire.

  ‘That noise is rhythmic,’ Constanza said softly. ‘Like the beat of a tune.’

  Leonor could barely see a thing, yet her pulse quickened. It made no sense, and though she couldn’t make out his face, she knew Rodrigo Álvarez was down there in the dark. Just then, he began to sing. Yes, that was Count Rodrigo, his voice was rich and mellow. Unforgettable.

  ‘That’s the song Inés taught me, the one I played earlier,’ Constanza said.

  Leonor gripped her sister’s hand. ‘Indeed, it is. Pick up your lute, you must accompany him.’

  ‘Leonor, you are a wicked, wicked girl,’ Constanza said, smiling.

  Heart warmed by Constanza’s smile, Leonor unfolded her veil, taking care to ensure that it dangled from the window like a signal. With luck, even though the sun had gone down, Count Rodrigo would see it and understand he had an audience.

  Constanza struck the first chord. A lamp flickered, and behind them, the shadows quivered.

  Leonor glanced over her shoulder, Inés and Alba had entered. Resisting the urge to slam the shutter, Leonor smothered a sigh. Here it comes, she thought, and braced herself for a barrage of chastisement concerning veils and modesty and the correct behaviour expected of a Nasrid princess.

  Constanza’s lute fell silent.

  Inés crossed the chamber and came to stand at her shoulder. ‘They are there already?’ she asked mildly.

  ‘You know about this, Inés?’ Something clicked into place and Leonor’s eyes widened. ‘You arranged it!’

  ‘If I did, I would never admit it.’

  Baffled, Leonor stared at Inés. ‘You arranged it, I know. Why?’

  Inés looked from one
Princess to the next and her face softened. ‘A duenna who loves her charges might not like to see them so unhappy. She might not like to see them lose their beloved horses. Nor would she like to see them denied the opportunity to learn about their mother’s people. Those men...’ Inés jerked her chin towards the window ‘...are Spanish, and so is that duenna. My dears, a duenna who cares for her charges might wish to distract them from the way they are kept so confined. She might also hope that distraction would help them overcome their unhappiness at losing their horses.’

  Leonor gave her a straight look. ‘A duenna such as that would be playing a very dangerous game,’ she said quietly. ‘If I were to meet her, I would thank her from the bottom of my heart. How did you do it?’

  Inés shrugged. ‘The overseer’s wife has expensive tastes.’

  ‘You bribed him!’

  Inés smiled.

  Leonor turned back to the window. ‘Put out that lamp, if you please, we shall see better.’

  Constanza resumed playing and Leonor’s eyes adjusted to the night outside. A crescent moon hung among the stars, and the fire cast an orange glow on the stony ground. The Spanish knights were looking up at the tower, their faces ghostly in the firelight. What looked like the remains of a meal sat on a rock—a couple of flasks and a fragment of flatbread.

  She gripped the windowsill. Had Count Rodrigo and his friends enough to eat? Were they hungry? To her shame, Leonor realised she knew nothing of how the prisoners put to hard labour were treated. Conditions had been appalling in Salobreña. Were they worse here? Better?

  With Constanza’s music floating over her head, Leonor leaned out as far as she dared and gave a loud whisper. ‘Lord Rodrigo?’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘Are you and your friends hungry?’

  ‘Always,’ came the dry response.

  Leonor ducked back inside. Her father had sentenced these men—her mother’s people—to hard labour simply for staring at the royal cavalcade. It was folly to interfere with that decision. She set her jaw. If Inés had been brave enough to defy him, she also could be brave. These knights were Spanish. They couldn’t be blamed for not understanding orders shouted to them in Arabic. If Lord Rodrigo and his companions wanted decent food, she could supply it. Her mother would surely have approved.

  ‘Inés?’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘My sisters and I are astonishingly hungry. We would like a large bowl of rice, some chicken in almond sauce and some fruit. Do we have sweet grapes? Dates? Honey biscuits?’

  ‘Of course, my lady.’

  ‘Oh, and we will need a large basket and a long rope.’

  ‘Very good, my lady.’ Inés hurried out.

  Constanza finished the Spanish folk song and switched to another. By the time the food arrived in its basket, she was on the third song. Lord Rodrigo and his friends knew them all. Their voices, rich and full, overpoweringly masculine, filled the clearing. In truth, they were so loud, Leonor feared they would attract attention.

  Luckily, the palace guards seemed to be occupied elsewhere.

  Had Inés arranged for that too? She must have done.

  Leonor sat on the wide window ledge and drew up her knees as she listened.

  ‘I like this,’ Alba said dreamily. ‘They are serenading us.’

  Leonor gave her a sharp look. ‘Don’t get carried away. You must remember they are only there because Inés bribed the overseer. They are Father’s enemies.’

  ‘They are Mother’s people,’ Alba said, and her sigh melted into the night. ‘Don’t spoil things, Leonor.’

  The arrival of the food basket put paid to further singing. After it was lowered to the ground and the men had gathered around it, Lord Rodrigo turned his face up to the window and bowed. ‘A thousand thanks, my lady. Your generosity overwhelms us.’

  Leonor heard the irony in his tone and glanced at Alba. Her heart twisted. Poor Alba. Alba longed to be serenaded because she more than any of them wanted marriage and children. Alba wanted to be wooed.

  Yet that would never happen, not whilst they were under lock and key. This mockery of a serenade was all the wooing she and her sisters were likely to have.

  The singing continued briefly after the knights had eaten. And at length, when the men had been escorted back to the Vermillion Towers, Constanza laid down her lute. ‘I never realised how diverting duets could be.’ Her face was soft, her mouth relaxed.

  Alba smiled. Her eyes were full of dreams. ‘Indeed, yes, that was marvellous.’

  A moth fluttered through the window. Leonor closed the shutter. She too had enjoyed herself and not purely because of the singing. The idea that they were finally doing something that was outside their father’s control was unexpectedly stimulating. She was a wicked daughter and doubly so because she didn’t feel the least bit guilty. Leonor also recognised that a large part of her enjoyment came from watching her sisters’ enjoyment. The singing had brought them back to life.

  We have been living shadow lives, and it is not enough.

  ‘Do you think they will return tomorrow?’ Alba asked wistfully.

  ‘I imagine that depends on the size of the bribe Inés gave to the overseer.’

  Alba glanced pensively at her emerald ring. ‘I would be happy to donate some jewellery, if that would help.’

  Leonor laughed. Thank heaven, Alba and Constanza were finally behaving more like their old selves.

  * * *

  In the event, there was no need for Alba to part with any rings. The next evening, that telltale clinking summoned the Princesses to the window overlooking the shadow-filled ravine. The firelight was again playing over the dark, handsome faces of the Spanish knights.

  Another basket of food was sent down. A bottle of wine.

  There was more singing. As Leonor took her place on the wide ledge and Count Rodrigo’s deep voice rose to the window, she couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.

  Is he singing because he is half-starved and he knows we will feed him? Does he think of us with scorn? Or are we merely a pleasant interlude in an otherwise disastrous period of captivity?

  Overhead, the stars glittered, cold and mysterious. They had no answer. The moon gleamed like a silver sickle. There was no answer there either.

  The second evening flew by.

  Then came the third, and the fourth. The days melted into one another, a blur of unwonted happiness. After sunset, as the moon grew progressively larger, the Spanish knights would light a small fire at the foot of the tower and serenade their enemy’s daughters.

  Each evening, the food basket was lowered and raised. And each evening, Leonor sat on the window ledge and listened. Sometimes she sang. Occasionally she would hug her knees and fall silent. It was then that the ideas crept up on her, ideas that were as untamed as the wilderness outside the palace walls.

  Soon the Spanish knights would leave Al-Andalus, they would be free. What must she do to be free? If there was a way to go with them, should she take it?

  Leonor’s ideas were so wild, she kept them to herself. In truth, she tried not to think too much, as some of her thoughts were simply too alarming. It wasn’t easy.

  When the sun blazed overhead, she looked forward to moonrise. Her sisters did too, Constanza would bring her lute up to the top chamber and Alba would sit by the window, fingering the latch on the shutter. Waiting.

  What would they do when the men had gone?

  Was there a way to go with them? Was there?

  Surely there was no reason for Lord Rodrigo to help them, they were his enemy’s daughters. Unless...

  Might he be convinced to help them steal away as a form of revenge against their father? Might that work?

  We could return to Mamá’s homeland. Of course, the three of them knew nothing about life outside the palace, they would face untold dang
ers. But it didn’t matter, they would be together, and together they could face anything.

  All Leonor had to do was persuade the knights to escort them out of their father’s kingdom.

  After that, well, their jewels had value. They could surely survive until they found their mother’s family. Our family.

  There was one huge drawback. Could she trust Lord Rodrigo?

  * * *

  Night after night as the moon grew fat and Leonor pondered on what she might do, the Spanish noblemen and the Princesses played duets. They sang to each other. It was a pleasant game with a slight frisson—in short, it was a most engaging interlude.

  Then came the moment that Leonor had dreaded. It was night once more, and she was alone with Constanza, Alba was in the chamber below, talking to Inés.

  The moon was almost at the full and its pale light washed over the stones surrounding the knights’ fire. Only there were no cheerful yellow flames tonight, only a charred log left over from the previous night. Save for a small animal rustling through the undergrowth, the ravine was silent.

  ‘Where are they?’ Constanza asked, a pleat in her brow.

  ‘Perhaps they’re working in another part of the gully.’

  Constanza’s shoulders slumped. ‘Their ransom has come and so they have gone.’

  Leonor frowned. ‘No, no, they can’t have gone, not yet.’ She stared frantically out into the gully. It was ominously quiet.

  Had she left it too late? She’d been waiting for the right moment to ask Lord Rodrigo if he and his friends would escort her and her sisters out of Al-Andalus. She’d been waiting for what? Courage? A sign that these men—her father’s enemies, after all—would treat her and her sisters honourably? She had little experience of men and her confidence had failed her.

  A wave of nausea swept through her. She’d waited too long. If the knights’ ransom had been paid and they’d been released, she’d missed her chance.

  Her heart clenched and she forced herself to face the truth. There was more to it than that, she’d been looking forward to seeing the flare of the fire. She wanted to hear that strong, male laughter again. Count Rodrigo, where are you? Have you gone home?

  The gully remained dark. It was filled with night sounds—the whisper of dry grass at the foot of the tower, the screech of an owl. Surely the Count was still there?