Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  But she had often envied the peasant girls running hatless in the fields and thought that the golden hue of their skin was very attractive.

  Because it was impossible to think of anything but herself and her predicament, Tora began to tell herself a story in which she ran away for good, became a peasant and lived in one of the small red-tiled cottages that were characteristic of Radoslav.

  She would work in the fields in the summer and sit weaving at her loom in the winter.

  She had drifted away into her fantasy where she was humming to herself one of the peasant songs that the Professor had incorporated in his medleys of folk songs when she heard a voice.

  It made her start and she looked round.

  Then she realised that the sound was coming from a window just over her head, the casements of which were open.

  “You are late!” a man’s voice exclaimed.

  He was speaking in Salonan.

  It was Tora’s mother who had insisted that she learn all the different languages of the countries around them.

  “French, English, Austrian and Italian may be sufficient for ordinary people,” she had said scathingly, “but personally I think it is an insult when people visit us who do not speak our language and I have no intention of either my son or my daughter being anything but multilingual whenever we meet our neighbours.”

  Tora had not found it difficult to learn Salonan. It was based on Hungarian, which she spoke very well, together with many words from other neighbouring countries.

  It was in fact, she thought, the only thing she was certain of having in common with the King, that she could speak his language and he would speak hers.

  “I am sorry, Your Highness,” she heard a man’s voice reply. “It took some time for me to collect our other friends and, as you are well aware, we did not wish to be seen.”

  Tora started at the words ‘Your Highness’.

  Then she told herself that there were doubtless a good number of Princes in Salona, as there were in every other country in the Balkans.

  It was customary for every male member of any Royal Family to be a Prince and, if he had any children, they also received the title of Prince or Princess.

  She had once been told, and it had made her laugh, that there were over a million Princes in Russia.

  Nevertheless, it flashed through her mind that it might be Prince Vulkan who had been speaking.

  Then she knew that it was very unlikely to be him as he had not returned to Salona for so many years.

  There was the sound of a chair being scraped along a wooden floor as if it was being placed round a table.

  Then the man who had spoken first asked,

  “Where is Titov?”

  “I was unable to get in touch with him, Your Highness,” someone replied.

  “Curse you! I said everyone!” the Prince snapped.

  There was silence before he added,

  “Never mind, I shall see Titov tonight or tomorrow and will tell him we are meeting at the old Monastery.”

  “I am sorry, Your Highness,” the man he was speaking to muttered apologetically.

  “The rest of us are here,” the Prince continued, “and we must consolidate our plans. I have heard that the King is thinking of marrying again and that we must prevent at all costs!”

  Tora draw in her breath and sat listening tensely.

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  Then the Prince went on,

  “The sooner we strike the better! I will, of course, deal with the King and you Luka will take over the Army. It should not be difficult, as several Regiments are on manoeuvres.”

  “There are already a number of dissenters amongst the Officers,” Luka replied. “I have contacted at least twelve who will support Your Highness wholeheartedly.”

  “Good! That is what I want to hear! I am relying on you, Franz, to see to the Police and there should be no difficulties there!”

  “I hope not,” the man called Franz replied. “At the same time, Your Highness, the older members of the Force have always been traditionally loyal to the Throne.”

  “I am aware of that,” the Prince remarked sharply.

  “Shoot without hesitation anybody who is difficult. Only by striking before they are aware of what is happening shall we succeed with the least possible opposition.”

  “Yes, of course, Your Highness,” Franz agreed humbly.

  “I am relying on you, Zivko,” the Prince said, “to deploy your men so cleverly that there is no question of any rising in the marketplace. Crowds can be very unpredictable and I presume a certain number of them at any rate will want to support the King, although God knows why!”

  There was some rather unpleasant laughter at this and then the Prince said,

  “I have tried to think of everything. We should each of us have enough men, all of whom have been told to shoot at any sign of opposition to ensure that the whole operation passes off so quickly and smoothly that people will wake in the morning to find that I am the ruler of Salona and there is nothing they can do about it!”

  “That is what we all hope, Your Highness!”

  “Then let’s have a drink,” the Prince said, “and at the same time study your maps and we will each of us see if there is any way we can improve on our arrangements.”

  “Shall I pour the wine, Your Highness?” Luka asked.

  “Of course!” the Prince replied.

  There was the chink of glasses.

  Then somebody, and Tora thought it was Franz, said,

  “I give you the toast, gentlemen – King Boris! Long may he reign.”

  Tora drew in her breath.

  Now she knew who had been talking and she recalled her father saying that there was rival contender for the throne.

  Moreover two days ago one of her lady’s maids had said something very significant.

  Tora had been very careful, of course, not to give her any hint of her involvement with the King, but she had been speaking of his impending visit to Radoslav, which had already been announced in Parliament.

  “Have you ever seen His Majesty?” she had asked.

  The maid shook her head.

  “No, Your Highness, but I’ve heard a lot lately about Prince Boris!”

  “Who is he?” Tora had asked.

  “He’s a cousin of His Majesty, Your Highness, and he’s a real bad lot from all I hears.”

  She saw that Tora was interested and went on,

  “One of my sisters is working in the house of our Ambassador in Salona.”

  “How interesting for her!” Tora said. “What did she say about Prince Boris?”

  “She’s seen him and she’s seen terrible things I wouldn’t repeat to Your Highness, but she thinks he’s out to cause trouble. My sister says she heard His Excellency say he’s a menace to the peace of Salona and would like to get his hands on the Throne!”

  Tora thought that this was another reason why the King wanted a son and she wondered what terrible things Prince Boris had done. However she thought it beneath her dignity to ask too many questions.

  Now realising the importance of what she had heard, she knew that something ought to be done about him.

  But, as she heard the men above her toasting each other, she suddenly realised how dangerous her own position was.

  If they were aware of how much she had overheard or if they guessed for one moment that she had been, as they might think, spying on them, she would undoubtedly die.

  She felt herself tremble and realised that she must hide at least until the Professor arrived.

  She rose from the seat where she had been sitting and, moving slowly on tiptoe, she slipped through the lilac and syringa bushes round the corner of the inn.

  She saw that there was another window that was also open, which she was sure belonged to the same room where the men were meeting above her head.

  She passed under it and moved on to where at the back of the inn she found a flower-filled garden.


  It was rather wild and yet some effort had been made to grow flowers and they made brilliant patches of colour against the trees of the wood beyond them.

  Because she was so frightened, Tora felt that the only sensible thing to do was to hide in the wood until she was sure that the Professor had arrived and then she would join him.

  For a moment she could hardly believe that what she had overheard was not a figment of her imagination.

  But the truth was that Prince Boris was planning a coup d’état to take over the Throne and the whole country.

  Quite by chance she had overheard his plans through an open window when he thought that in the quiet and secrecy of the inn he would be completely safe.

  ‘If I am discovered, they will kill me,’ Tora thought again.

  Hurriedly she passed through the flower-filled garden and out through a small wooden gate that led her into a wood.

  Only when she reached the shelter of the trees, did she feel the violent thumping of her heart begin to subside, although her lips still felt dry.

  ‘How can I really have listened to anything so terrifying, so appalling?’ she asked.

  She walked on along a sandy path between the trees until quite unexpectedly she found that there was a fantastic view on one side of her.

  It looked over the plain that she had seen from the pass and from this point the trees descended straight over the cliff down to a stream fed by the cascades from the mountains.

  It struck her with a sense of horror that this would be an excellent place in which to dispose of any unwanted body and she moved away from it.

  She walked on a little further up the path which she was sure would eventually end on one of the snow-clad peaks.

  Because the sun was still hot, it was very warm and also because she was frightened she felt that she could not go any further.

  There was a fallen tree beside the path, its roots sticking up grotesquely into the air, which made a convenient place for her to sit.

  She sat on it feeling her heart still pounding and her breath coming intermittently from between her lips.

  Then for the first time she asked herself what she should do about what she had overheard.

  Somehow she ought to warn the King, but how?

  ‘It is none of my business,’ she wanted to say.

  Then she told herself that it was everybody’s business.

  Revolution in whatever country it happened weakened law and order in those adjacent to it and, if today there was a usurper on the throne of Salona, tomorrow it might happen to Radoslav.

  ‘I must do something! I must do something about it!’ Tora thought desperately.

  She was sure that her father and also her brother would not hesitate to take some action in the same circumstances, but they were men and she was only a woman, and in hiding.

  Once again she could hear Prince Boris telling his men to shoot if there was any opposition and she thought probably that the people of Salona were like her own people, happy and content with their King.

  Why should they die for a Prince who, if gossip was to be believed, was a despicable character?

  ‘I must do something,’ Tora thought again.

  At the moment she was far too frightened to go back to the inn and, even when the Professor arrived, how could she involve him in anything so wicked?

  ‘I must go home immediately!’ she told herself.

  Then she wondered how she could persuade the Professor who was so much looking forward to playing at the Palace of Salona that it might be dangerous for him to do so.

  She would have to give him some explanation and she was sure that once he had heard what she had to say he would believe her and would think it imperative that somebody of importance should be told about it.

  That would not only involve them all, but she would undoubtedly be questioned and have to give her real name.

  On the other hand if she did nothing a number of innocent people might die and doubtless Prince Boris would kill the King.

  ‘I never wished to marry him,’ Tora reasoned. ‘At the same time I can hardly stand by while he is murdered.’

  She thought no one had ever been in such a dilemma. The problem went round and round in her mind in a circle and always came back to the same place.

  What it came down to was that the only person apart from his fellow-conspirators, who knew what Prince Boris intended to do, was herself.

  Yet how could she expose him without revealing her own secret and putting herself in a very awkward position.

  She could imagine nothing more embarrassing to her parents if they found out that she had dressed as a peasant and had come to Salona to spy on the King.

  She could imagine not only the horror of the more respectable citizens of Salona and her own country but also the sniggers and innuendos that would be made by other people.

  ‘What can I do? What can I do?’ Tora asked herself.

  Then she heard the sound of horses’ hoofs approaching and thought with terror that it might be Prince Boris and his friends.

  If it was, they might be suspicious and ask her what she was doing in the wood so near to the inn.

  She jumped to her feet and stood indecisive while she listened.

  Then with a sense of relief she realised that it sounded like only one horse coming not from the direction of the inn but from the wood further up to her right.

  She wondered if she should run away and hide, then realised it was now too late and if she was seen the rider might think it strange that she should run away and would perhaps pursue her.

  Again frightened with her heart pounding heavily in her breast, she forced herself to sit down again on the tree trunk and try to appear at her ease as if she was enjoying the solitude of the wood.

  The horse’s hoofs became louder and louder and in a few moments she had her first sight of an exceedingly well-bred horse and riding it a man dressed in very smart breeches and polished boots.

  He was bareheaded and, as she looked at him, she saw that he was gazing at the view that she could see through the trees below them.

  Suddenly she had the idea that he was in the Army.

  She did not know why she should feel that, but there seemed to be something authoritative about him and he rode straight-backed, almost as if he was on parade.

  Yet at the same time he seemed completely at his ease on his horse.

  He had almost reached her before he realised that she was there.

  She saw a look of surprise on his face and then he smiled.

  “Good morning, fraulein,” he said. “Are you enjoying the magnificent view?”

  “Yes, mein herr,” Tora replied.

  He pulled his horse to a standstill and said,

  “You look somewhat lonely. Are you waiting for somebody in such a romantic spot?”

  There was a mocking note in his voice and because she was afraid of being questioned, almost as if he might tell Prince Boris that she was there, Tora said quickly,

  “No, no! I am here by myself because I want to think.”

  It was the first answer that came into her mind and, as if the newcomer was amused by her reply, he sat back in the saddle as he asked,

  “Then what are you thinking about behind that very attractive forehead?”

  For a moment Tora looked at him in surprise because he spoke to her in a way that she had never been spoken to before.

  Then she remembered that she was not for the time being the Princess to whom everybody was respectful, but only a peasant girl with whom a man could joke and even flirt.

  “I do not think my thoughts would interest you, mein herr,” she answered demurely.

  “On the contrary they interest me very much!”

  He dismounted as he spoke, knotted his reins together and to Tora’s surprise left his horse loose while he walked the few steps that brought him to where she was sitting.

  “I am very interested,” he repeated, “so may I sit down and ask you to tell me what you
are thinking about, although perhaps your eyes will be more eloquent than your lips.”

  Tora drew in her breath.

  She had no idea that men ever spoke in such a way to women and it was not only his words that made her feel shy but the way he was looking at her.

  To her annoyance she felt herself blushing as she said quickly,

  “I-I feel you have far more – important things to do than to – talk to me.”

  “I can imagine nothing more important,” the man replied and sat down beside her.

  He turned sideways so that he could look at her.

  Then he said,

  “I suppose hundreds of men have told you how beautiful you are! The lights in your hair make me feel that you are not really human, but a sprite from the wood.”

  Tora smiled.

  When she sat in the woods at home, she often pretended to herself that she belonged to them and there was no tiresome protocol waiting for her in the Palace and a number of people telling her ‘not to do this’ and ‘not to do that’ and most of all ‘to stop daydreaming’.

  “Are you smiling because it is true?” the stranger asked.

  “That is for you to find out!” Tora replied without thinking.

  “That is exactly what I want to do,” he said, “and yet I am afraid that I am just imagining that you are there and at any moment you will vanish. Then there will be only the sunshine on the leaves and the moss beneath my feet to tell me what I have dreamt.”

  The way he spoke was so fascinating that Tora, feeling as if she had stepped into one of her own daydreams, now said,

  “I wish that could happen. It would solve a lot of problems.”

  “What sort of problems?”

  “Very very difficult ones and I think you should go away while I try to decide what I should do.”

  “If it is a problem, then the answer is ‘no!’ You should not marry him!”

  “It is nothing like that,” Tora replied, “but something far more frightening. In fact – it is so frightening that I really hope I am – dreaming!”

  Even as she spoke, she knew that what she had heard was not a dream but the truth and unless she did something quickly a great number of people would lose their lives.

  “I want to speak to somebody in – authority,” she said aloud.

  Even as she said the words, she knew it was something that could get her into great trouble.