It was midday as Prince Rylan and his soldiers cantered to the top of Carter’s Hill and stopped. They waited for a few moments in silence, then heard the sound of hooves approaching from the opposite side of the hill. Another horse and rider rose up to meet them. They halted in front of the Prince and a boy slid from the saddle. He was dressed in peasant clothes and his feet were bare.
“Message from Arkan,” he mumbled, pulling at the straps on his bag. It was a long moment before he managed to get it open. He pulled a sealed parchment from the bag and gingerly held it out. The Prince’s gloved hand closed around it. “Tell Arkan,” the Prince said “that he insults both the King and the Princess by this manner of delivery.”
The messenger put his head down. “Yes Sir,” he mumbled. Rylan put the parchment in his saddle bag and sat up. Understanding this as a sign of dismissal, the boy went hurriedly to his horse and scrambled into the saddle. Horse and rider turned eagerly away down the hill. The Prince watched them go. When they were out of sight, he signalled to his soldiers. They resumed their original formation, wheeled around and moved slowly away in the direction from which they had come.
Leila stood like a statue on the balcony of her castle room listening to the horses’ hooves rattling and scraping on the cobble stones below her. She had watched them as they came up over the brow of the hill, grouped together in their familiar formation; her brother, the Prince, in the middle. The soldiers looked relaxed now, riding easily and exchanging words. When they had left this morning they had looked as if they were going into battle. It seemed everything had gone well as far as they were concerned. That didn’t necessarily mean the same for her.
“All this fuss for one little Princess,” she said quietly and turned around.
A small elderly woman was sitting on a straight backed chair on the balcony behind her, sewing. Leila’s face softened slightly. The little woman did not raise her head.
Leila pushed her loose dark hair back over her shoulders. “What do you think Diely?” the Princess asked her companion. The little woman did not respond. She might have been deaf.
“Diely, what do you think?”
“I think that I have nearly finished this sleeve,” Diely said, looking up. “Haven’t I done it well?” She held the sleeve up for the Princess to admire it.
Leila smiled, pleased that she had got a reaction. This small bent woman, who had nursed her since she was born, was dearer to her than anything else in her world.
“Of course you have done it well Diely,” she said. “You always do.”
Diely laughed. It was a brief gentle laugh but it made her whole body tremble, and put her out of breath. She stopped laughing and tried to breathe deeply. The air wheezed in and out of her mouth. It was a while before she was in a position to speak again. When she had recovered she picked up her needle and went on with her work. Leila watched her, thoughtfully. Suddenly she frowned.
"Diely,” she said, and her voice was demanding “tell me what you think.”
The old woman again appeared not to have heard. She went on with her work. Leila walked over to her and put a hand on the stooping shoulder in its plain cotton. “Diely,” she said. Diely did not answer. Leila gave her shoulder a little shake. Diely put down her work.
“For shame, Your Highness,” she said. She turned her deep-set brown eyes on the girl’s face. “Don’t shake an old woman.” Leila step back, her hands at her sides.
“Speak to me Diely,” she said, “please.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know what you think, about all this.” She waved her hand absently at the hills from where her brother and his soldiers had just returned.
“But you have already made up your mind,” Diely said, taking up her sewing again.
The Princess sighed. “But I am uncertain, even now.” She stood watching Diely work a moment more then gathered up her heavy skirts and sat down at her nurse’s feet. She leaned her chin on the old woman’s knee and stared up at her so intently that Diely was forced to stop work and look at her again. With a sigh she set her sewing carefully aside on a little inlaid wooden table near her chair and took the girl’s hands in hers. The Princess’ hands were soft and the nails beautifully tapered. Diely’s hands were twisted and worn, with calluses on the fingers from her needle.
"Joy and gladness should be in this, not uncertainty.”
Leila looked down at her hands held in Diely’s and then looked away, through the railings of the balcony that looked like bars from where she was sitting. When she was a little girl and couldn’t see over the top she had often put her arms and sometimes her feet between the bars, reaching as far out as she could into the open space. She had liked the bars then. They had stopped her from falling. Now they seemed unnecessary. But they were still there. “I don’t want to be certain of things.” she said quietly. “I’m tired of safety and everything I know. I want to be doing something, something …” she searched for the right word … “fun.” She looked back at Diely with a darkened face. She gripped the worn and twisted hands that held hers. “Diely, I am tired to death of this place and I hate living here. I feel my life shrivelling every minute. I do nothing. I am nothing here. I am 18 years old but I feel like I’m 100.”
Diely raised her eyebrows and her little brown eyes sparkled. She was over 90 herself.
Leila dismissed the look with a toss of her head. “My father does not love me and doesn’t know what to do with me,” she said. “He has plenty of places for sons, but daughters are a burden.” Her voice rose impatiently. “If I do not choose Arkan now, who I find handsome and charming, and who has promised me a place of honour in his kingdom, my father will marry me off to the first convenient sop that shows an interest. I will end up with some dreary old man – a friend of my father’s – who will treat me like he does.” Leila paused and sighed. “Do you know Diely, I saw him talking only the other day to that never ending bore, the Duke of …”
“Hush,” Diely said quietly. “I won’t listen to such things. It is gossip and lies.” She released the Princess’ hands and turned her head away.
The Princess rose to her feet and began walking to and fro on the balcony. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Diely watched her quietly. After several minutes she said. “Your Highness, I wish to speak with you.”
Leila stopped walking and looked at the little woman. Diely’s eyes were full of tears. The sight of them made Leila angry.
“You may speak,” she said tersely.
“Why not believe, Daughter, that your father is a good man and that he loves you, that he has good plans for you and longs for your happiness. You put yourself in danger when you believe the opposite of what is true.”
There was a heavy pause.
“Is that all you have to say?” Leila asked.
Diely inclined her head, “yes Your Highness,” she said.
The Princess turned away from her to look out over the balcony rail at the hills rolling away from the castle. “Why not believe,” she said and gave a bitter little laugh. “I have had enough of trying to believe Diely. How can I continue to believe in the face of all that I see and hear? How much longer must I wait, pretending to be patient? My entire life is pretence.” She paused. She was breathing quickly. ”Do you know,” she said, turning her back abruptly on the fields and facing the castle stones “that Arkan has a party at his palace every week. His four sisters are courted by all the successful young men of the land, and they are always at those parties. Do you know how hard it is for me to hold a ball here, with a few of my friends? I am bored and I am lonely Diely but with Arkan I never will be. He values youth and fun. My father values …” and here her voice changed to mock her father’s tone “truth, humility, and righteousness. He is a dry, unromantic old man and he will marry me off to some other dry, unromantic …”
Diely rose quickly from her chair. “Someone is coming Princess,” she said, then briskly and in a louder voice. “Your reading is superb my dear. Perhaps you should show your father a small sample of your acting. You know how he appreciates the arts.” She glanced quickly at Leila, her face a mixture of warning and reproach. Heavy steps were heard in the Princess’ room. Leila stepped forward from the balcony railing, smoothing her dress. She shot Diely a look full of grateful apology and then met her father with a smile as he pushed back the curtain and came forward to greet her.
“Well, it is good to see the ladies out here enjoying such a beautiful day.”
Both women curtsied then stood silently before Leila’s father. Diely was wheezing slightly and the King, with a smile and a nod bade her sit down. She did so, and picked up her sewing. "I stood here to watch the Prince and the soldiers return,” Leila said to her father, turning quickly away from him to look out at the hills. He came and stood beside her.
“Yes,” he said. “I thought you might.” There was an awkward silence. “I would like you to come down to see me when you are ready,” the King said. “We will want to discuss the meeting with you.”
“Yes Your Majesty,” Leila said. She inclined her head and gave a slight curtsey without looking at her father.
The King gave a brief nod. He stood a moment more, as if he might say something further, and then abruptly turned away. They heard his boots on Leila’s bedroom floor and then the door closed softly behind him.
As soon as it did, both ladies let out a sigh.
“I’m sorry Diely,” Leila whispered, “I’m sorry to have frightened you.”
The little woman waved her hand without speaking, but she looked pale.
“Come inside,” Leila said, putting an arm around her and helping her nurse to her feet. “I’ll ring for someone to bring you something.” They walked slowly through the doorway into the cool bed chamber and Leila helped the little woman to sit down on a sofa. “I have been horrible to you today Diely, just horrible.” She rang the bell for the servant. “It will be better when I am out of this place and not able to cause any more trouble. I simply do not belong. I do not belong.”
éêé
The King looked up from his desk as he heard the heavy tread of his son’s boots in the hall. There was the metallic rustle of chain mail as the soldiers outside the door came to attention and saluted. Then the great double doors swung open and the Prince approached his father’s table.
He removed his helmet and paused to bow before coming forward with the parchment in his hand.
“Tell me Rylan, what news of Arkan,” the King said standing up to take the parchment out of his son’s hand.
“There is little to tell Father. He is cowardly in the extreme. He sent a kitchen boy on a borrowed horse to meet me, while he himself stayed hidden amongst the trees.”
“And the message?”
“I have not read it, Sir. But we both know what it contains.”
The King laid the parchment on the table and unrolled it, leaning forward on his hands.
“He has a slovenly hand,” the Prince said as he read it. ”The signature scrawls across the page. Perhaps he was drunk when he wrote it.”
“Perhaps. I hope Leila will see it for what it is.”
“Yes. Though she seems blind to reason where this man is concerned.”
The King ran a hand over his silver hair. “I hope not Rylan,” he said. “I am baffled how this man managed to attract her. I wish to God I had never allowed her to meet him. He is so obviously beneath her in every way.” He sighed. “But then, a flattering tongue may go a long way, even with an intelligent girl.”
“Arkan is beneath her, but he is cunning. He is clever at finding out weaknesses and exploiting them. That is how he comes to sit on his father’s throne ahead of his brothers.”
The King gazed at the parchment in front of him. “You are right,” he said. “But I am hopeful that Leila will trust me over this serpent.”
A soft step in the hall announced the Princess’ arrival. The soldiers came to attention and a timid knock sounded on the door.
“Come in my dear,” the King called. The door swung open to reveal the Princess’ petite figure in a green silk gown. Her long dark hair had been wound in intricate coils about her head and a thin gold ribbon was woven through.
“Here I am Father,” she said “as you requested.” At a distance she curtsied, then came forward to stand in front of the King and Prince Rylan.
“Welcome Leila,” said her Father. “The expected request has arrived from Arkan, and I would have you look upon it and see for yourself how frivolous is his manner of asking.” He turned the parchment towards her.
She laid her small white hand upon it and appeared to read it thoughtfully. “It is nothing,” she said when she had finished. She raised her head to meet her father’s gaze. “Some men are skilled in battle, others at penmanship. I would not reject a man on the basis of his hand writing.”
“Have you read it?” the Prince said hotly, “or perhaps I should tell you how it was delivered. A peasant boy on a cart horse met me. We saw neither hide nor hair of your gallant lover.”
“You always were proud about such things,” his sister said coldly. She removed her hand from the parchment, allowing it to roll up with a snap. “If he had delivered it himself on a dragon overlaid with gold you would reject him.”
“And you would accept him, though he shows no heart or feeling.”
“He has offered his full allegiance to your Father’s Crown. I think that is feeling enough. His dowry is his kingdom.”
“Are they your words or his?”
“They are mine!” The Princess clenched her fists. “I have my own mind, unlike …”
“Enough,” her father said quietly in a voice that brought instant silence. “I will not allow you to speak such slander. Your brother’s obedience is a great comfort to me, and I appreciate his wisdom.”
Leila tossed her head. “It makes no difference whether I am obedient or not,” she said. “You will reject Arkan’s request. My placid obedience would only make it easy for you.”
“I do this for you my daughter. It would be easier for me to say yes, and receive the allegiance of the south lands. But I know Arkan. He is treacherous. I would not trust him with something as dear as you are to me.”
“I am not dear to you,” Leila said bitterly. “If I was, you would take my feelings into account.” Then she turned quickly and left the room.
The King sighed. “Write an answer to Arkan and give it to me for signature this evening,” he said to his son. He rose heavily from his chair. “I pray one day Leila will realise that I care deeply for how she feels.”
éêé
In her chamber Leila lay on her bed on her stomach, fully clothed, and apparently asleep. It was past
Suddenly the candle guttered and nearly went out. The curtains at the balcony door billowed inwards. Leila sat up and looked around. She listened. She could hear Diely breathing in the room that adjoined hers. She felt unbearably nervous. There was a scuffling sound outside on the balcony. Cautiously Leila slid off the bed and stood still, watching the balcony door. The curtains were pushed aside by a black gloved hand and a male figure stepped between them into the room. Leila’s heart beat in her ears but she made no sound. The man looked around the room and his eyes alighted on her, standing by the bed. He held out his hand and beckoned to her. She could not see his face properly. She was afraid to move. She knew it was not the man she had expected. He beckoned with his whole hand impatiently, and when she still did not respond, he walked quickly into the room and grasped her by the arm. She let out a shriek of fear and tried to pull herself away. With a curse he pinned her to him with one arm and clapped a hand across her mouth. Leila struggled. He dragged her swiftly out the door and made as if he would fling her over the balcony railing.
Terrified, Leila clutched at his clothes and tried to scream again. The man gave a low growl, like a dog.
“You come quietly, or I’ll drop you over the edge,” he hissed at her, giving her a shake. “Understand?” Leila nodded, her wide eyes fixed on his face. Cautiously, the man took his hand from her mouth.
“Where is Arkan?” she whispered.
“He sent me to get you,” the stranger said grasping her upper arm. His hand felt like pincers. He pulled her roughly to the corner of the balcony where a ladder had been placed against the railing. “Climb down here.”
“I can’t,” Leila said, her voice breaking with fear. “I don’t want to. Please let me go. Who are you? I was waiting for Arkan.”
“He sent me. He said you’d come quietly, curse you. Now climb over the rail before I pick you up and throw you.”
Shaking, Leila took hold of the top of the ladder. A small bent figure appeared like a wraith between the balcony curtains. It hesitated a moment and then disappeared as silently as it had come. Leila began to descend the ladder. As she neared the ground she could see another man waiting for her in the shadows of the castle walls. He was watching her closely. Her mind was racing and she couldn’t think clearly. Surely there must be some way of escape. She was too terrified to call out. “Please God,” she moaned softly to herself, “please help
éêé
When Leila became conscious again she was lying on her back on a hard floor and being jolted roughly from side to side. She opened her eyes and could see nothing. She closed them again.
“Perhaps I’ve gone blind,” she thought.
Her head was throbbing painfully and the side of her face where she had been hit felt numb. She tried to move her body and realised that her hands and feet were tied. Ripples of terror washed over her making her dizzy. She opened her eyes again. This time she realised that her head was covered by some rough material.
“Probably Hessian,” she thought “and it must still be night. That’s why I can’t see anything.”
Her body ached all over and her feet were numb. She was unbearably thirsty.
“I must be in a cart and they’ve covered me with sacks. Where are they taking me? Oh God I’m so scared.”
Just then the cart gave a particularly sharp jolt and dropped to one side then righted itself roughly. Leila heard a voice above her head. It was the growling voice of the first man, the one who had hit her. There was a tinge of amusement in his tone.
“Watch the potholes. Don’t want to damage Arkan’s precious package.”
Another voice, the voice of the sweating man answered him.
“Don’t talk to me about damage. You hit the girl. That mark’ll last clear to next Christmas. I want to know how you’re gonna to explain it to his Lordship.” “Bah,” the other spat. “I’ll tell him she slipped down the ladder.”
“Arkan’s no fool. He knows the difference between a slip and a hit, and the girl’ll probably tell him.”
The growling man didn’t answer.
“Anyway,” the other continued “it weren’t necessary for you to hit her. I nearly had her through the gate and then we could have talked to her and explained things and she would have come along quiet. I know girls, they’re like horses. I could have coaxed her. I know I could.”
Where had Leila heard that voice before?
The other man spat again. “That ain’t my experience of women,” he said. “They need a firm hand to knock the trouble out of them. Arkan will thank me. I’ve already softened her up.”
The second man made a sound like a moan. “He won’t be thanking you when he sees her in the morning, what with the banquet arranged, and the guests invited and the ceremony going ahead in the afternoon. How’s he going to walk her down the aisle looking like that? It’ll take weeks before she can be seen.”
“So put a veil on her,” the growling man snapped. “It’s not my problem. We done our bit and we deserve our pay.”
“We don’t done our bit Dake, we don’t done it. We was told to pick up a girl who was waiting for her lover.” The voice rose slightly. “We shouldn’t have stole a girl that didn’t want to come. Arkan was mistaken. He told us she wanted to elope with him, and maybe she does, but you never give us a chance to find out. You just hit her and left a mark, and now the trouble’ll never end.”
Dake remained silent but there was a sudden painful gasp from the sweating man followed by a gurgling sound. The cart lurched to a stop. Leila, lying rigid on the dirty floor of the cart, held her breath. There seemed to be a struggle going on above her, then she heard the growling man say. “Don’t go soft Riddick, or I’ll squeeze the life out of you and leave you here. We’re here to do a job, and we done it. The girl just slipped down the ladder in the dark and injured herself. That’s what we gonna say.”
There was a strangled sound from Riddick, and then she heard him gasping and retching over the side of the cart. Eventually he seemed to recover himself and Leila felt the cart begin to move again.
“You’re a dog Dake,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re a dog. I would never have ratted on you. You’re a dog.”
Dake gave an ugly laugh.
Leila now knew where she had heard the second man’s voice before. Riddick had worked as a gardener and an odd job man at her father’s palace when she was a child. She had once over-heard one of the grooms say to another that Riddick was good with horses and could have been a groom but he couldn’t stay away from the drink.
Obviously Riddick still had contacts in her father’s palace. It made sense now why the gate had been unguarded. It must have cost Arkan plenty in bribes to get her out, and he must have known she wouldn’t come willingly. His last letter had only said that he would meet her, not that he would take her away. Leila had intended to ask him to speak personally with her father. She felt sick. What did this now mean for her? Apparently she was to be married that afternoon. Foreboding weighed like a great stone upon her chest. She struggled to keep her thoughts from wandering.
“Oh please God help me. I never meant it to be like this.”
Above her head, Leila heard Riddick say suddenly “what was that?”
“It’s just horses, that’s all it is,” Dake answered, but he sounded nervous. “You stay quiet. I’ll do the talking.”
“But they’re galloping …”
“Shut up.”
Leila could hear the horses’ hooves now, thudding on the turf at the side of the road. They were going fast and there were several of them. Why would someone be galloping so fast at night? Obviously the same question had occurred to her abductors.
She heard Riddick moan. “It’s all over. It’s the King’s men, it’s the King’s men. How the hell did they know?”
The other man’s voice was low and controlled. “Run the cart into the trees just here, quick now.”
The cart lurched up onto the grass, then Leila heard the scraping of branches on the boards beside her. She heard both men slide from their seats then the back board of the cart was dropped and powerful hands grasped her ankles. She was dragged into a sitting position and hoisted onto a man’s shoulder, Dake’s, then the men set off through the trees at a run. Leila had no time to think then, or even to be terrified. It was as much as she could do to prevent herself from being winded or knocked unconscious. Dake carried her as carefully as he would a sack of potatoes.
It seemed like an hour that she was carried in this way. Leila felt that her strength was nearly spent and she was in danger of passing out again when the men stopped running and stood still, breathing hard.
“We’ve lost ‘em,” Dake gasped. He lowered Leila from his shoulder onto the leafy ground. The change of position made the blood rush from her head and she lay still somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. The bag was still over her head. A faint lightness in the air showed that it was morning. The two men stood and looked down at their captive.
“Let’s take the bag off her,” Riddick said. “Make sure she’s still alive. She don’t look like she’s breathing.”
“She’s alive,” the other said. “I’ve carried a dead man, and she ain’t dead. But take the bag off. If she’s awake she can walk for herself.”
She felt Riddick wriggle his arm under her shoulders. She was lifted into a sitting position. It was as much as she could do to lean against him and prevent herself from sliding back onto the ground. The sack was dragged roughly from her head and for the first time she saw her captors. Sitting propped up against Riddick’s arm, she turned her head to look at him. Yes, it was the man she remembered. He glanced at her quickly and looked away.
“We wanted to make sure you’re alright,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Leila looked up at Dake. He was standing in front of her and looking down, his arms folded across his chest. The sack lay at his feet. He was a dark man with deep set eyes and a dense black beard. Leila noticed his hands. They were large and thick and scarred as if he had spent his life clawing at things. She shuddered and looked away. She felt grateful for the presence of Riddick. He at least seemed to have some goodness in him. Dake smirked.
“Morning Princess,” he said. “Was your journey pleasant?” Leila closed her eyes again. Riddick let her slide slowly to the ground.
“She won’t walk,” he said. “Look at her.”
“She’ll walk,” Dake said shortly “or I’ll give her a mark to match the other one.”
Riddick glanced up at him, then down at Leila. “Come on girlie,” he said, pulling her into a sitting position again. “You’ll be alright once you get moving.”
Dake pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and crouched down to cut Leila’s feet free. He gave a mirthless chuckle as she flinched away from him. “See,” he said to Riddick. “Softened up already.”
Leila looked at Riddick. His eyes slid quickly away from her. Then he stood up and pulled her to her feet. “You’ll be alright Missy. You’ll be alright,” he said as Leila swayed dizzily beside him. With his face averted, Riddick took hold of her arm and took a couple of steps after Dake who had set off through the trees.
Then they both heard a sound. Riddick stopped. Leila stopped beside him. They looked back.
“Dogs.” Riddick gasped. His eyes were wide and the colour had drained from his face.
Just ahead of them Dake had turned back. He came towards them. He was walking quickly and his face was grimly set. He had the knife in his hand. As he approached them he raised it without slackening his pace. Leila and Riddick both realised his purpose at the same moment. Leila screamed and Riddick flung out his arm. The knife buried itself in his forearm and he fell to the ground clutching at it and crying out in pain.
“You fool,” Dake roared. Standing over him he grasped the knife and pulled it from Riddick’s injured arm. Riddick rolled around, holding his arm and moaning. His hands were covered in blood. Dake’s clothes were spattered with it. “You soft hearted fool.” Leila, standing motionless a little way from them saw Dake turn towards her with the knife again upraised. Then he seemed to hesitate. Leila could hear clearly now the wild baying of the dogs and the crashing of the horses coming close behind them. The men were shouting. Dake dropped the knife and turned and fled. Leila sank to the ground and hid her face in her arms. The noise of the hunt closed in around her. She expected any moment to be trampled or mauled. But no one touched her. The dogs went past her to the left, following a particular scent, and the horses followed. The crashing and howling gradually faded into the distance and then stopped altogether. There was silence. Leila felt someone touch her gently on the arm. She raised her head and looked up into her father’s face.
“Leila,” he said, lifting her up and kissing her forehead and her cheeks. “Leila. Thank God. Thank God.”
éêé
Leila lay still with her eyes closed, not wanting to open them. She knew she was lying in her own bed. She could feel the softness of the sheets and the fresh smell of boiled linen. Her cheek had been dressed with some ointment and she was wearing a night gown. She could hear the servants moving about the room, talking in whispers. She heard the door open and the tread of boots on the tiles. Her father’s voice was speaking softly to the servants. Leila kept her eyes closed and tried to breathe slowly. After a couple of minutes he left. The door closed behind him. Then the servants began to disperse.
At last it was quiet. Leila opened her eyes. The room was silent and dim. The doors onto the balcony that would normally have been open were closed and the curtains pulled across them. No candle was burning and there was no fire in the grate. The window that over-looked the gardens was closed also and the curtains drawn. The whole castle seemed unnaturally quiet, as if someone had died. As if perhaps she herself was dead.
Softly Leila pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Barefoot, she padded across the cool tiles to the little room that adjoined hers where Diely normally slept. For the first time that Leila could ever remember, the door was locked. Leila tapped on the wood. “Diely,” she said. The whole palace answered her with silence. “Diely,” she said again.
The door to her own bedroom opened and one of the servants came in with a tray. She stopped short when she saw Leila and curtsied awkwardly with the tray in her hands.
“I was asked to bring this up to you Ma’am. I was told you were asleep and you might want something when you woke up. Where shall I leave it for you Ma’am?”
“On the table will be fine. Thank you.”
The servant put down the tray and straightened up. “Is there anything else you would like?” she asked. “May I tell His Majesty that you are awake?”
“No,” Leila said quickly. “No thank you. But you may tell Diely that I am up and would like to speak with her. I am surprised that she’s not here.”
“Yes of course Ma’am.” The servant shuffled her feet and put her hands behind her back. “Will there be anything else Ma’am?”
“No thank you,” Leila said. The servant curtsied quickly and left the room. Leila stood and watched the door close behind her. She wandered over to the tea tray and examined the things. She felt hungry but decided she would wait for Diely so that they could have tea together. She was impatient to talk to her nurse before she spoke to her father. The minutes ticked by. Leila sat in a chair and swung her legs. She moved over and sat on the bed. She wandered to the tea tray again. Every moment was making her nervous. And then came the sound that she had been dreading, men’s footsteps in the hall. There was no time to hop into bed and pretend this time. The door was opening. Her father stepped in and came towards her with the palace physician behind him.
“Leila.” Her father embraced her and then stood back to look at her face. “I’m so grateful that you are awake and looking well. God is good and you have recovered. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine thank you,” Leila said. “I feel fine now.”
They stood awkwardly facing each other for a moment. “Would you mind if Dr Jenkins looked at the bruise on your face? It seems a little less swollen than yesterday.”
“No. That would be fine,” Leila said. She sat down in a chair. The doctor was a quiet middle-aged man. He looked at Leila’s bruise and applied some more ointment. Then he asked her some questions about how she was feeling.
“You are very lucky,” he said. “You have not been injured badly. We can indeed thank God for that. I expect that you will feel tired after all that has happened to you. You should sleep whenever you want and eat little and often. It would be good if you had someone to talk this ordeal over with.” He glanced at Leila’s father who was standing behind him watching and listening to them. The doctor looked at Leila, and seemed to study her. “I will leave you two alone now,” he said. “I will come up and see you tomorrow if that would be appropriate.”
Leila merely nodded. There was something in his manner that was making her feel agitated. Something about the look he had exchanged with her father perhaps. Both men looked grave.
“As if someone were dead,” she thought again.
She watched the doctor leave the room, impatient to get this conversation with her father over with. She wanted to speak to Diely. Her father came and sat down beside her.
“Leila, there is something I need to talk to you about.”
Leila, studying his face, sat up a little straighter in her chair. His expression was sad, sadder than she had ever seen him. She began to be afraid for herself. What had happened to her? The thought flashed across her mind – had she been …? When she was unconscious? Her father took her hand.
“Leila, Diely is gone.”
This was so completely unexpected that Leila stared at him. “Y-you mean,” she stammered. “You’ve dismissed her?” Could Diely have been party to the abduction? It was incomprehensible. "No." Her father paused, searching for words. “Leila, she died the night you were abducted. She saw them take you out of your room. She ran through the palace banging on doors, waking everyone and calling out that you were gone. That is how we were able to rescue you.” He paused, his eyes studying her face. Leila opened her mouth but no sound came out. She shut it again. Her father went on.
“I am convinced that her sacrifice saved your life. If she hadn’t done what she did you would be married to Arkan by now and completely at his mercy.” Her father sighed. “And me as well,” he added quietly. He paused and looked away from her. He seemed to be counting the tiles that lead from the door to his feet. Dumbly, Leila followed his gaze. She felt ill and afraid, perhaps even more afraid than when she had been abducted. She wanted to scream but nothing was happening. She felt like a gaping chasm had opened at her feet. She thought she could hear the roaring of a great wind. The peace and silence of the palace only increased these impressions.
With an effort Leila dragged her thoughts back to the moment. Her father was crying silently. She could see the tears running into his grey beard.
“How … “ she heard herself say. Her father looked up. It seemed he was also bringing himself back to the present, with an effort.
“She collapsed because she couldn’t breathe,” he said simply. “She was unconscious when we picked her up and she died a short while after.” His voice began to break. “We have laid her in the room where we laid your mother when she died.” He stopped, overcome. Leila realised that she was starring stupidly at him. “The funeral is tomorrow,” he managed. And then her father put his face in his hands and cried with great shuddering sobs.
Leila thought, “I have never seen a man cry like that.” She felt numb. She had tears but they seemed merely a response to his.
“Oh God, what does this mean for me? Why am I so selfish?”
Her father was holding her hands again and looking into her face. “It’s not your fault,” he was saying. “Leila, it’s not your fault. Diely loved you better than herself. She would not have hesitated. I know she didn’t hesitate.”
Then her father put his arms around her and lifted her onto his lap and rocked her like a baby. And Leila cried, with her face buried in his neck and her fists beating his chest, until she felt quiet. Then for a long time they just sat together and she thought “I don’t think I’ve ever hugged him, or any one.” She couldn’t even remember hugging Diely.
éêé
Leila stood like a statue on the balcony of her castle room listening to the horses’ hooves rattling and scraping on the cobble stones below her. She had watched them as they came up over the brow of the hill, grouped together in formation, her suitor, the Prince, in the middle. The soldiers looked relaxed and the banner of the Prince’s kingdom fluttered on its pole. Leila’s heart fluttered with it but her face was expressionless.
“All this fuss for one little Princess,” she said quietly and turned to look at her father who stood equally motionless beside her.
He turned his head to regard his daughter gravely. “What do you think Leila?” He asked, his eyes studying her face. “How do you feel?”
“I think that the Prince’s horse is a handsome animal and that I am feeling too hot in this sun.”
Her father gazed at her for a moment, then his face relaxed a little. “Why don’t you just ask me to mind my own business?” he asked.
“Because you are the king and I will answer you with wisdom and respect.” Leila returned.
“I am also your father,” the King said “and I love it when you speak to me honestly.”
Leila looked away from him to the flags of his kingdom flying from the tall iron gates. “I think that after everything I have been through, and all that I have wrestled with, it would be better if I stay in this place, where you have taught me to be content.”
The King nodded slowly, his eyes also on the flying flags on the tall iron gates. “You cannot stay here Leila,” he said softly. “I will not let you. This is a journey to somewhere better. It is not your destination.”
Leila looked up at him. He was looking down at her so steadily that she had to turn away. “But I am afraid that out there,” Leila said, gazing at her own hands, clasped together on the balcony rail. “I am afraid that things will go wrong, that I will go wrong.”
The King reached out and covered her small hands with his large one. Leila looked up at him again and met his steady gaze. “Do nothing in response to fear Leila. Do nothing in response to fear.” From the door onto the balcony came a small sound, like a cough. It was the King’s servant, standing awkwardly in the doorway. He bowed to the King, then to Leila. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he said. “Everything is ready and the guests are waiting. Prince Korah is waiting for you. Your maids are ready as well your Highness,” he added to Leila. “Whenever you are.”
“Thank you,” the King said. “You may tell Prince Korah I will be with him shortly. Is Prince Rylan also ready? I wish him to walk in with me.”
“Yes Your Majesty. I will see that that happens.”
“Thank you.”
The servant bowed and left.
“Well Leila,” the King said, offering his daughter his arm. “Shall we?”
Leila, biting her lip, took his arm and they left her room together.
At the bottom of the stairs father and daughter parted, with a kiss on each cheek. Her father and the two Princes would go ahead of her into the ballroom to mingle with the guests until she arrived.
Leila’s maids stood around her to accompany her. They were dressed in simple white dresses with flowers woven into their hair. Leila herself was wearing a golden gown and a circlet on her head. The gown had been made especially for the occasion.
The Princess stood still as her maids arranged her dress and looked to the finishing touches on her hair. She clasped and unclasped her hands. She told herself again that this was not her wedding day, or even her engagement. It was only a ball being held in her honour so that she could meet Prince Korah who had asked to be allowed to court her. Leila had met him briefly once before but she knew his reputation as a great man and a warrior. The kingdom he came from far eclipsed her father’s for wealth and size. She knew it was a great honour that he should ask for her. But for her, a question still remained. And that question haunted her.
Unlike Arkan, Korah had done everything properly. Leila understood now the difference between true unhurried confidence and boastful impatience, quiet purpose over sharp decisions. But still she doubted. Strange that she had never doubted Arkan. He had made her believe that he was in love with her. He had fitted a picture and had met an expectation. But this man ... Everything he did was almost too good for her to understand.
The ballroom was ahead of her. She could hear the music through the tall timber doors. A footman stood on either side, ready to open them for her when she approached. They were watching her now, waiting for the moment. Her maids had finished their arrangements. They stood still, two on either side and one behind. They would wait on her all evening. Leila thought of Diely. How she longed for her counsel. What would Diely say now? Leila tried to imagine her nurse speaking but all she could remember was her balcony on the morning she had seen her brother return from Arkan. Diely had said something about joy. Joy and gladness.
“Oh Lord,” Leila thought. “I am uncertain. Show me joy and gladness. I don’t know where to find it.”
“Are you ready Ma’am?” One of her maids asked.
“Yes. If you are.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Leila took a deep breath, clasped her hands tightly in front of her and took her first step towards the great double doors. As she approached, the footmen swung them open. Warmth, light, and joyful noise spilled out to meet her. She heard her name announced and then she was treading down the corridor of people towards her father. The men bowed and the women curtsied in a wave before her and Korah himself, standing beside the King, bowed too as she approached. The King took her hand and led her to him.
“Prince Korah,” he said. “My daughter, Princess Leila.”
“I am honoured,” Korah said and smiled with such genuine warmth that Leila found herself smiling back. And suddenly she realised that she wasn’t nervous. The joy of the crowd washed around her and she looked up at her father’s beaming face.
Korah took her hand and led her out into the middle of the hall. The music changed tempo. “Will you dance with me?” he asked.
“Yes,” Leila answered.
