Crowned with Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Then she said in a voice that trembled,

  “You mean the – men you call – patriots – want to destroy me?”

  “They want to destroy anything that would uphold the present régime, which is what you have been brought here to do,” the man opposite her replied.

  “Then – what happened? Why have they – not carried out – their intention?”

  “I was in the other side of the valley, quite some way from here, and I learned only at the last moment what had been planned. I arrived too late to prevent the bomb from being thrown into the engine, but I was able to prevent the rest of the train from being set on fire. Unfortunately in doing so I was very nearly captured and I can never be sufficiently grateful to you, Princess, for saving my life.”

  “If they had caught you, what would have happened?”

  “I would have been shot and there would have been no chance for me to explain that I did not intend to destroy you.”

  There was a long pause.

  Then Giona asked,

  “Why did you – wish to save me?”

  “I do not wish to wage war on a girl who is too young to know what she is doing.”

  There was a note of scorn in his voice that made Giona ask curiously,

  “Is that the only reason why you saved me?”

  “The newspapers of Slavonia have carried stories about you for the last two weeks, extolling your beauty and explaining how young you were. Much, much too young to be the wife of King Ferdinand. Whatever made you agree to such a marriage?”

  The man in the dark spoke sternly and, before Giona could reply, he added in a voice that he had not used before,

  “But of course! What woman could resist a Throne?’

  “It is not that! Of course it is not that!” Giona reacted angrily.

  “You did not wish to be a Queen?”

  “Not with a King almost old enough to be my grandfather! Nor do I wish to be married to any man I do not love.”

  “Love?” the man opposite her enquired. “Are you suggesting that love is to be found in any Royal marriage?”

  “My father and mother were deeply in love with each other,” Giona said. “They had some difficulty in marrying because Papa was only the younger son of a King without a Kingdom, but they loved each other very much, and – Mama has never been the same since my father died.”

  There was something rather touching in her voice and after a moment the man in the dark said very quietly,

  “And that was the love you hoped to find?”

  “Of course I did! My sister has been very lucky. She has found a man she loves and who loves her. If I had not agreed to come to Slavonia or had run away and hidden myself where they could not find me, as I thought at first of doing, then Chloris would have been forced to come. She was the Queen’s first choice.”

  “I can understand what happened,” the man in the dark said. “At the same time it was wrong and wicked that you should be sent out here without the slightest idea of what to expect or what marriage to a man who is – so much older will – entail.”

  He hesitated over the last few words and Giona had the feeling that he had been about to say something very different.

  “But I am here now,” she said in a very small voice, “and there is nothing I can do but marry the King, as has been arranged.”

  She heard the man opposite her draw in his breath in an exasperated manner, as if even the thought of it made him angry.

  Because she had the feeling that time was passing and there was so much more she wished to know, she asked quickly,

  “Please tell me more about what is happening. It is frightening to be so ignorant and have everything kept from me. How strong are the patriots?”

  She thought for a moment that he was not going to answer her.

  And then he said,

  “As strong as it is possible to be without the money to buy new weapons with.”

  “And would it really be best for the country if they were in power rather than the present King?” Giona enquired.

  She knew the answer to that, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  Once again she heard him draw in his breath as if he felt that she had given him a difficult task.

  “How much do you know of the situation in the Balkans at the present moment?”

  “Very little,” Giona admitted. “When Papa was alive, I knew a great deal because he was so interested in all the Balkan countries and we used to talk about them together. But the English newspapers never seem to mention any except the Great Powers and, because we are poor and live very quietly in a Grace and Favour house at Windsor, we are not very well informed.”

  “Then I must try to explain it to you,” he said. “In I872 the League of the Three Emperors was formed, by which the Austrian, German, and Russian Emperors agreed to work together to preserve peace. It is only now, three years later, that we in Slavonia have realised that their idea of peace was to incorporate all the independent countries of the Balkans into the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which is dominated by Germany.”

  Giona gave a little gasp.

  “Is that really true?”

  “I promise you, the Balkan countries are losing their independence one by one and Slavonia will, in a very short time, be completely Austrianised or Germanised, whatever you wish to call it.”

  “I – don’t understand,” Giona quavered. “If that is so – why has the King agreed to take a British Queen?”

  “He was forced into agreeing by the Slavonian Party in the House of Parliament. It was also thought by most of the population to be the only possible way of saving the country from being overrun.”

  He paused and then went on,

  “The newspapers have been saying for over a year that only Britain can save Slavonia and there have been mass meetings, urgent representations, even riots, bringing pressure to bear on the King to carry out their wishes.”

  Giona did not speak and after a moment the man opposite her added,

  “It meant that eventually the King had to agree or else face an outright war or revolution such as is happening in other parts of the Balkans.”

  “I see – now I understand.”

  “There are also some of our number who believe that the marriage will strengthen the King in his position on the Throne and it is they who wish to destroy you rather than allow you to bolster up a Monarchy they hate and despise.”

  “Because he is Austrian?” Giona asked.

  “There are other reasons.”

  “What are they?”

  “I see no point in discussing it. I have saved your life and you have saved mine and now I should leave you. I can only hope that you will find some happiness in the future.”

  The way he spoke made Giona think that in his opinion this was very unlikely and she said impulsively,

  “I am frightened! I think I am more frightened now of being married to a strange old man than I was even when I left England.”

  “I can understand that,” he said. “Equally you may save Slavonia from being gobbled up as other countries have been.”

  “I will try to do what is right for your Slavonia,” Giona replied, “but I know it will be very difficult.”

  “Too difficult,” the man said sharply, “and much too hard for somebody young like yourself. You should be happy and free and not just a political pawn.”

  “That is what I thought myself,” Giona answered, “but there was nothing I could do but agree to what Queen Victoria proposed.”

  “I don’t suppose that she or anybody else in England had any idea of what you would encounter when you arrived here.”

  The man spoke in a low voice, as if he was speaking to himself rather than to Giona and then she gave a little cry, saying,

  “What do you mean? What is being kept from me? I know that there is something, but no one will be honest with me. I would much rather face facts than imagine with terror something perhaps worse than what I shall actually discover.”
/>
  The man opposite her suddenly said,

  “Give me your hand.”

  Without thinking, Giona stretched hers out and he took them in both of his.

  “Listen to me, Princess,” he said. “You saved my life with a courage and quick thinking that I would not have believed possible in any young woman and since we have talked together here in the darkness, I know that you are everything a Queen should be and the people of my country, when they know you, will give your their hearts.”

  His fingers tightened on hers as he continued,

  “But I will not disguise the fact that there are great difficulties ahead and I want you to promise me that, if you find them too taxing and unbearable, you will ask me to help you. I do not know how, but if it be possible, I swear that I will try by every means in my power to save you.”

  He spoke so solemnly that Giona could only sit wide-eyed in the darkness.

  At the same time she was acutely conscious that the vibrations that came from him and from his hands as he touched hers seemed almost electric, as if everything about him was more alive than in anyone she had ever known.

  As he finished speaking, she said in a very small, very young voice,

  “Thank you. I feel somehow – happier because I know – you are – here.”

  She paused.

  Then she asked,

  “You will not forget me?”

  She was sure that he smiled before he replied,

  “That would be impossible!”

  He bent his head and she felt his lips on the softness of her skin.

  “Now I must go.”

  “How can you do that?” Giona asked. “The sentries will still be outside.”

  “I know, but if you will permit me to go into your bedroom, there is a trap door in the floor through which I can let myself down onto the line and they will not see me.”

  “Supposing they do?”

  ‘Then I shall be shot, as I would have been a little while ago if you had not rescued me.”

  “Please, please, take care of yourself,” Giona begged him.

  “I will do that,” he replied, “not only because you have asked me to, but because I believe at this moment I am necessary to Slavonia.”

  He stood up as he spoke.

  Then, when he would have moved away in the darkness, she said,

  “Supposing I do need you? How can I get in touch? How shall I know where to find you?”

  “Send me a message by any Slavonian you can trust.”

  “Shall I tell them it is for ‘The Invisible One’?”

  “Of course! They will understand and, because I admire you, my little Princess, if I am alive, God willing, I will save you.”

  He stood still after he had spoken and Giona had a strange feeling that he was looking at her in the darkness and could see her while she could not see him.

  Then with a faint sigh he turned away towards her bedroom door.

  “Stay here,” he said, “and pray that I shall reach those who will be waiting for me.”

  “I will pray very hard,” Giona said, “and God go with you.”

  It was something that she had never said in her life before and yet the words seemed to come naturally to her lips.

  He turned away, opened her bedroom door and for a moment she saw him silhouetted against the light.

  He was tall with broad shoulders and what she fancied was a slim athletic body.

  Then the door closed behind him.

  She did not move as she began praying.

  There was no sound from the bedroom, but she supposed that he was lifting up the rugs under which there would be a trap door just large enough for a man to enter or leave the compartment.

  Now she guessed that the man she had been speaking to was lowering himself down onto the rails beneath the train and moving silently and swiftly.

  Then he would slip away between the shrubs and rocks on the other side of it without being detected.

  And yet there was always the fear that some soldier alert to every shadow and movement in the darkness would fire at him.

  ‘Please, God, save him!’ Giona prayed.

  Clasping her hands together, she felt her prayer wing its way up to Heaven through the stars, while with every nerve in her body she was listening in case there came the sound of a shot and the cry of a man as he died.

  Only a long time later, when she knew that ‘The Invisible One’ must by now have got away, did she rise and go into her bedroom.

  As she expected, one of the rugs in the centre of the floor at the end of the bed was turned back and she could see the trap door beneath it, which had been closed by the man who had passed through it.

  She pulled the rug back in place and then, taking off her satin negligée, she climbed into bed.

  By now it was very late, in fact early in the morning, and she knew that soon the stars would begin to fade and the first pale fingers of the dawn would sweep away the brightness of the moon.

  By then ‘The Invisible One’ would be far away and, she hoped, safe.

  Before she fell asleep she found herself praying that he had spoken the truth when he had said he would not forget her.

  *

  The following morning she was awakened to learn that there would be some delay before they could move on.

  The engine had been severely damaged by the explosion and another had been sent for from the Capital to bring their train to where the King and the Civic Representatives were waiting to receive her.

  Mithra was horrified at what had happened during the night and shocked that Her Royal Highness should have been disturbed by the explosion and the shots.

  At the same time Giona had the feeling that the maid knew perfectly well who the aggressors were and sympathised with them.

  It was the Slavonian Ambassador and Sir Edward when they came to breakfast in the drawing room who spoke up against the revolutionaries, insisting that their behaviour was disgraceful and the King would undoubtedly take far stronger measures to keep them under control than he had in the past.

  “If we had not had so many soldiers to guard us, we might all have been murdered in our beds!” Lady Bowden said with a shiver. “I cannot understand why, in the face of such a large Army, these people are able to cause so much trouble.”

  “It has been difficult to catch them, my Lady,” a member of the staff said. “One Slavonian looks like another Slavonian and how can we know that the man pushing a cart through the streets has not a bomb hidden under the vegetables he is pretending to sell or the old crossing-sweeper has not a pistol in his pocket?”

  “You are frightening Her Royal Highness,” Sir Edward said firmly, “and I think such a conversation is a mistake, especially at breakfast time.”

  “I agree with you,” the Slavonian Ambassador said, “but I assure you that, when I relate to His Majesty what has happened, he will set in train some stronger and more unpleasant reprisals for the outrage that was perpetrated upon us last night.”

  Because it was something that she had been longing to know but been afraid to ask, Giona enquired,

  “Were many people killed?”

  ‘Two of our soldiers were badly wounded,” the Slavonian Ambassador replied, “and I know a number of the revolutionaries were injured, although when they escaped in the darkness, they took their wounded with them.”

  Giona said nothing.

  She wondered what they would think if she told them that she had spent at least an hour with the leader of the revolutionaries – ‘The Invisible One’.

  Finally the replacement engine arrived and, having been attached to the train, drew them off, descending as rapidly as possible and at last Giona could see the countryside and realised that it was even more beautiful than she had expected.

  Mountains, many of them with snow on their highest peaks, encircled the valley, which broadened out far and wide beneath them.

  Through it ran the wide silver river, twisting its way through the land luxuriant
with pasture and blossoming trees and dotted with small hamlets in which most of the white houses had attractive red roofs.

  It was so lovely that she longed to talk about it to her father and ask him if there was any country in the whole of the Balkans that was as pretty as Slavonia.

  When they passed the people who stood staring in awe and admiration at the train, she saw that they looked very attractive, many of the women being quite beautiful and the men broad-shouldered and strong.

  They appeared to Giona to be a smiling people and, as if they realised whom the train carried, they waved as it passed them and she waved back.

  It was after luncheontime when finally they drew up at the Station of Dūric.

  There were flags everywhere, the flags of Slavonia side by side with the Union Jack, and the whole Station was decorated with flowers.

  Standing on a red carpet, waiting for the coach that contained Giona to come to a standstill, was a mass of civic dignitaries, beside a number of Officers festooned with medals and one man in the centre wearing a plumed hat, who she was certain at first glance was the King.

  For a moment she felt that she could not look at him.

  Then she told herself to be sensible and behave as her mother would expect her to.

  She had a wild impulse to run away and hide and say that she could not go on with this farce of a marriage.

  Then she lifted her chin and told herself dial she would not be intimidated by anyone, even a fifty-two year old King and, as she was Royal, she would not show emotion.

  It was some consolation to know that her mother had chosen for her arrival a lovely and very expensive gown of forget-me-not blue, trimmed with lace threaded by blue ribbons and ornamented with tiny musk roses.

  She looked very young and very lovely as she stepped down from the train onto the red-carpeted platform.

  “Let me welcome you to my country,” the King said in English and his guttural voice sounded a little hoarse. “We welcome you with our hearts and I and my people will strive for your happiness.”

  It flashed through Giona’s mind that the speech had been written for the King because he hesitated over one word and she knew perceptively that he was trying to remember it rather than it coming spontaneously to his lips.