The Proud Princess

by Barbara Cartland

  “However much you have now,” she said, “I give you two – no – three times as much if you take me back to the Castle.”

  In answer one of the Zyghes put out a large dirty hand towards her, palm upwards.

  She understood that he was asking for the money immediately and she replied,

  “I have no money with me, but there is much money waiting for you at the Castle.”

  She pointed to it far away in the distance and went on,

  “You keep what you have, and I give you three times as much again!’“

  The Zyghe shook his head.

  “Five times as much!” Ilona cried desperately.

  Again he held out his hand and she saw there was dried blood on his fingers as if he had recently killed an animal. It made her shudder.

  “Money at the Castle,” she said insistently.

  The Zyghe turned his hand over slowly and the other men roared with laughter as if at some joke.

  Ilona understood all too well what he was trying to say.

  They would not risk going into danger. They did not believe they would be paid for taking her back and they might well lose the money they had already.

  The man who had been attending to the horse’s hoof gave a shout of triumph.

  He had managed to extract the stone without prizing away the shoe itself, and now he sprang onto the back of his own horse and they all started to move forward.

  Ilona looked back despairingly towards the Castle and as she did so she drew in her breath.

  Far away in the distance she saw a black splodge against the green of the steppe and she felt sure it was a band of horsemen!

  Hastily she turned her head so that she would not draw attention to what she had seen.

  The Zyghes were laughing amongst themselves.

  She realised they were sneering at her attempt to bribe them and telling each other it had only been a trap to bring them within range of the soldiers’ rifles.

  They were so intent on laughing and talking that, instead of galloping wildly as they had done when they first captured Ilona, they now moved comparatively slowly.

  Their horses were trotting with the easy graceful movement which was characteristic of the Dabrozkan horses and which they could keep up for hours at a time without exhausting themselves.

  The two men on either side of Ilona each had a hand on the bridle of her horse.

  She held onto the pommel of her saddle, longing desperately to look back to see if she had been right in thinking that there were horsemen coming behind them, but knowing that to do so would alert her captors.

  If ever she had found difficulty in controlling herself, it was now, when she was acutely aware that she might be rescued, and yet at the same time might have been mistaken in what she had seen.

  They rode on, when suddenly one of the Zyghes behind gave a loud cry.

  Ilona looked back and saw that she had not been mistaken.

  Now, little more than a quarter of a mile away, a number of men were galloping towards them and she was sure that among them she had a glimpse of the uniform worn by the Prince’s soldiers.

  But she only had time for a mere glance before the Zyghes had started to gallop wildly as they had done before.

  Now they were whipping their horses and Ilona’s to quicken their pace and she could only concentrate on staying in the saddle.

  Her riding-hat was whisked from her head from the speed at which they were galloping and the wind which blew directly in their faces, and there was nothing she could do to save it.

  The Zyghes were bending low over their horses’ necks, exhorting them with loud cries to further efforts and bringing down their whips persistently and cruelly on their horses’ flanks.

  Each time they hit Ilona’s horse he jerked forward, and she felt that at any moment she might fall off and find herself trampled underfoot by those behind her.

  Then incredibly she heard the sound of other horses drawing nearer and nearer to them.

  Suddenly there was the sharp report of a pistol and the man who was holding her bridle on the left, toppled from his horse onto the ground.

  Then another horse, still at full gallop, ranged beside hers and a strong arm lifted Ilona from the saddle and swept her through the air to land with a crash.

  For a moment she was half unconscious at the impact.

  Then with a sense of elation she realised that she was in the Prince’s arms across the front of his saddle and her head was against his chest.

  She knew as she gasped for breath that he had performed the feat which was most admired amongst Dabrozkan horsemen - that of lifting a person from one horse to another at full gallop!

  Ilona gasped and found it hard to breathe; at the same time her heart was singing because he was so strong and because he had saved her.

  They galloped for quite a distance before the Prince brought his horse to a standstill, but Ilona, hiding her face against him, could only think that she was safe.

  At least he had cared enough to rescue her.

  *

  Magda came from Ilona’s bed-room to find the Prince waiting in the sitting-room.

  She had heard someone knock very softly against the door and had risen from Ilona’s bed-side to see who it was.

  She closed the door behind her before she curtsied and waited for the Prince to speak.

  “How is she?” he asked in his deep voice.

  “Her Royal Highness is sleeping.”

  “She is all right?”

  “A little shaken. It must have been extremely frightening; to be captured by the Zyghes.”

  “It must indeed,” the Prince said. “But I am sure Her Royal Highness will soon recover, although it was such an unpleasant experience.”

  “M’mselle is not as strong as she looks, Your Highness,” Magda said. “And is that strange, after suffering as she did in the Siege of Paris?”

  The Prince was suddenly still.

  “Are you telling me,” he asked in a strange tone, “that Her Royal Highness was in the Siege of Paris?”

  “I thought you knew, Your Highness,” Magda replied. “That was where Her Majesty lived after we left Dabrozka.”

  “I had no idea,” the Prince said as if he was speaking to himself. “I thought, although I must have been mistaken, that someone said you were living in Bordeaux.”

  Magda smiled.

  “La Rue de Bordeaux, Your Highness! A little street near the Champs Elysees in Paris!”

  “Her Royal Highness was in the Siege!” the Prince said as if he was trying to convince himself of the truth.

  “It was terrible, Sire! It’s a wonder we didn’t starve to death. Do you know, Your Highness, that potatoes when one could get them, were 28 francs a bushel, and butter, which we never saw, was 35 francs a pound?”

  The Prince smiled at the indignation in Magda’s voice.

  “I always heard that those who could afford it could obtain food and I am sure you had plenty of money!”

  “Plenty!” Magda’s voice was almost a shriek. “We had only what Her Majesty owned personally, and that was little enough! We were in hiding, Your Highness! - Madame Radák, and her daughter, little M’mselle Ilona. Who worried about us?”

  “I had no idea,” the Prince murmured.

  “It was scrimp and save, scrimp and save, with convent fees to pay! We scraped along,” Magda went on. “Although M’mselle never would have had a new gown if I hadn’t made her one from cheap material I bought in the market!”

  The Prince did not speak and Magda continued,

  “But we managed somehow until the Siege! Then it was often only a piece of dry bread and a drink of cold water. There was no fire to heat it!”

  Magda paused, and there was an almost agonising note in her voice as she said,

  “It was the cold that winter which killed Her Majesty. I would hear her coughing night after night! Even after the Siege was over, she went on coughing her life away but she never complained.”
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br />   Magda looked up at the Prince and her eyes pleaded with him.

  “Be careful of M’mselle, Your Highness! Like her mother, she’ll never complain. She’s been taught to be proud - never to admit to suffering, whatever it might be.”

  Magda drew in her breath.

  “Not even when His Majesty beat her, as he had beaten her mother often enough, did she tell me the truth. ‘I had a fall, Magda,’ she says as if I wouldn’t know a whip-lash when I saw one.”

  “His Majesty beat her?”

  The Prince’s question rang out like a pistol shot.

  “You must have seen her back, Your Highness,” Magda replied. “It’s a mass of bruises! How she managed to smile on her wedding-day, I’ll never know!”

  The Prince did not speak, and after a moment Magda said nervously,

  “You will not tell Her Royal Highness that I’ve spoken to you of this? She would be very angry. All the years in the Palace when I would have to undress Her Majesty and put her to bed after she had been beaten unconscious, she would never speak of what had happened.”

  “The King is mad!” the Prince exclaimed violently.

  “Yes, Your Highness, but it is not entirely his fault.”

  The Prince looked at Magda in surprise and she explained,

  “Few people are aware of it, but when His Majesty was a child he was dropped by his nurse. The servants were too frightened, as the nurse was, to speak of the accident to His Majesty’s parents.”

  “It must have injured his brain,” the Prince said almost beneath his breath.

  “That’s what I always thought, Your Highness, and that’s why, when His Majesty becomes angry, he’s not human. He’s as savage and as dangerous as a wild animal.”

  Magda’s lips tightened as she said,

  “If only you knew some of the things I’ve seen, some of the things that happened at the Palace! But at least my little M’mselle has escaped!”

  “Yes,” the Prince said quietly. “She has escaped!”

  *

  Ilona awoke late in the afternoon and when she stirred Magda rose to pull back the curtains and let in the afternoon sunshine.

  “I must have – slept for a – long time,” Ilona murmured.

  “Do you feel better, dearie?”

  “I am perfectly well,” Ilona replied. “But I did not sleep last night, and that is why I was so tired.”

  “Yes, of course,” Magda agreed, “and now I will fetch you something to eat. The Chef has been making you some nourishing soup and is ready to cook anything else you fancy.”

  “Do not bring me too much,” Ilona said. “It will soon be dinner-time and you know what delicious food we have here in the evening.”

  Magda was not listening. She had hurried to the door.

  When Ilona was alone she sat up and stretched, feeling as if she embraced the whole room because she was safe and because the Prince had ridden back with her in his arms.

  She had been fully conscious but she wanted to stay as she was, and so had made no effort to say she was unharmed and well enough to ride.

  He had given her a feeling of safety and protection she had never known before. It had been a wonderful thrill to rest her head against his shoulder and feel his arm holding her closely against him.

  It was worth every moment of her terror when captured by the Zyghes to know that the Prince had defeated their intention of keeping her prisoner, whoever had instigated it.

  One of the Zyghes had been killed and another badly injured in the skirmish with the Prince’s rescue-force.

  The rest had been taken prisoner.

  Ilona, since she was no longer in their power, would not have cared if they had gone free. She kept her eyes shut and wished the ride back to the Castle had taken far longer than it did.

  When someone had lifted her down from the front of the Prince’s saddle, she could have cried out in misery at leaving him. Then as she realised that Count Duźsa was holding her she heard the Prince say,

  “I will carry Her Royal Highness upstairs.”

  She had felt a rapturous thrill of excitement run through her as once again she was in his arms.

  He held her very close. As he climbed the staircase she could hear his spurs jingling, making a music which seemed to accompany the singing of her heart.

  He had not entrusted her to a servant or even to the Count!

  He was himself carrying her up to her room, and she wished that she was brave enough to tell him that she wanted him to stay with her, that she wanted to talk to him.

  But Magda, the Housekeeper and a number of other maids were waiting at the top of the staircase and when the Prince had laid her down on her bed he walked away and left her to their ministrations.

  “He saved me!” Ilona cried to herself now. “He saved me! As long as I can be with him I can bear his coldness and even his indifference.”

  Then the thought of Mautya, the gypsy was like the stab of a dagger in her breast.

  `Perhaps tonight he will stay with her again!’ Ilona thought miserably.

  It was some time before Magda returned and even as she set the tray with its numerous silver dishes down beside the bed, Ilona knew there was something wrong.

  She had been so close to Magda for so many years that she could sense without words everything she was feeling, could read every inflection of her voice and every expression in her eyes.

  “What is wrong, Magda?” she asked.

  “Drink your soup, M'mselle.”

  Ilona took a sip, found it delicious and took another.

  “Something has upset you,” she said.

  “Is it surprising?” Magda asked evasively.

  Ilona drank a little more soup.

  “It must be something that has happened since you left the room. When I talked to you just now you were so glad that I was alive and safe!”

  “I am still glad about that,” Magda answered. “Eat, my child. You need to renew your strength.”

  Ilona finished the soup and ate a few mouthfuls of a pink fleshed salmon which she knew would have been caught in the river that morning.

  Then she drank a little of the golden wine which Magda had poured into a glass before she said,

  “Now tell me, Magda. What has happened?”

  There was silence and she said firmly,

  “I insist upon knowing!”

  She had a terrifying feeling that it was something which concerned the Prince.

  Had he left the Castle? Had Magda found out something unpleasant about him and the gypsy?

  She waited apprehensively and after a moment Magda said reluctantly,

  “It’s the Russians, M’mselle!”

  “The Russians?” Ilona repeated in astonishment.

  “The servants are saying that the Prince learnt that His Majesty has invited them into the country to occupy the Palace!”

  “It cannot be – true!”

  “His Highness has said nothing, M’mselle, but the officers have been talking amongst themselves and the Major Domo overheard them say that if the Russians can get their guns into the Palace they can bombard Vitózi and us!”

  Ilona was very still.

  She could remember the horrors of the bombardment of Paris, the noise, the devastation caused by the German shells, the people who had been killed and wounded, and the terror that every outburst of firing evoked.

  “It is impossible!” she said aloud.

  But she knew even as she spoke that what Magda had told her was only too possible.

  If Russian guns were installed in the Palace standing so high above the valley, nowhere within their range of fire would be safe.

  “What is – being done?” she asked.

  “Members of the Council and the officers of His Highness’s Army are discussing the position at this moment,” Magda replied. “But you, my little M’mselle, must be -taken away to safety. I will tell His Highness that myself!”

  Ilona jumped out of bed.

  “I will s
peak to His Highness. Quick, Magda, give me my velvet negligee.”

  Magda looked at her in astonishment.

  “But, M’mselle, His Highness is in conference.”

  “I have no time to dress,” Ilona said impatiently. “Just do as I say, Magda!”

  She spoke in a peremptory way which was very unlike her, and Magda ran to the wardrobe and brought from it one of the exquisite negligees they had bought in Paris.

  This one was intended for the colder weather and was of turquoise blue velvet, trimmed with row upon row of white lace inset with turquoise ribbons.

  Ilona had not worn it before, and she put it on hastily.

  She buttoned it down the front, slipped her feet into her slippers which were lying beside a chair and without even glancing in the mirror she ran towards the door.

  “Where are you going, M’mselle? You cannot go downstairs dressed like that,” Magda cried.

  But Ilona did not listen to her.

  Running along the corridor she hurried down the staircase and found the Major Domo in the Hall.

  He looked at her in astonishment and she said,

  “Where is His Highness?”

  “He is in the Hunting Room, Your Royal Highness. Shall I inform him that you wish to see him?”

  Ilona did not answer. She did not even hear the end of the sentence. She was running straight to the Hunting Room.

  It was a fine Reception Room on the ground floor, large enough for dances or entertainments, and also used for conferences and meetings.

  Two footmen were standing outside the double doors and they were so surprised at Ilona’s appearance that it was only when she had actually reached them that they remembered to open the doors for her.

  She walked into the room.

  There were thirty or forty men present, seated in chairs, facing the Prince. He was sitting at a table with a Senior Army Officer on one side of him, and on the other an elderly man whom Ilona thought she had seen with the Prime Minister.

  They were talking earnestly, but at Ilona’s entrance there was a sudden silence.

  She did not even look at the men who stared at her in surprise as they rose to their feet. Her eyes were on the Prince’s face as he too rose.

  For a moment his self-possession seemed to desert him as he saw the way Ilona was dressed - her red hair streaming loose over her shoulders, her green eyes seeking his.