Bella at Midnight (21 page)

“That is very noble,” she said, “but would it not be better to ride out to where your brother is and persuade him to turn back?”

“How could I sway him when the queen cannot?”

“The queen is a woman, and men such as Gilbert do not esteem us as they do men. They think us softhearted and foolish. But he might listen to
you.
It is worth a chance, do you not think? Can you not bend your pride
only a little
, in hopes of preventing a slaughter? For if this war begins anew—mark my words—we will never see peace again so long as we live. Oh, Julian, think how many will perish! It is too horrible! What good would it do to just stay here and die?”

“Well spoken, Bella,” I said. “Pride was ever my weakness. It masters me and makes me addlebrained. I shall go to Gilbert, as you said—though I have not such high hopes as you that I can change his mind—for I know my brother, as you do not. Still, I will do all I can.”

“Good! Only, Julian, I confess my plan only carried me this far. I do not know how we are to get out of the castle so late at night. I had hoped, as you know the place, that you might think of a way.”

“I heard talk of a passage somewhere within the castle walls, built long ago for secret egress during sieges. But I know not where it is. We could spend weeks looking for it.”

“Then it is of no use to us,” she said, “for you must reach the king before midnight. We will have to leave through the gate, then. Perhaps I could hide you in a basket of dirty linen and carry you out that way.”

“That is very amusing, Bella, but no one would carry laundry out so late at night.”

She sighed. “I know. I was only being a
little
comical about the laundry basket, Julian. I was trying to think how to hide you. For even if we
could
think of a reason for departing at such an hour, they would never allow you to leave the castle.”

“That's not true, Bella,” I said. “These three years and more of peace have made Harry easy in his mind—far too easy, it seems. He would not expect me to escape any more than he would expect my brother to attack him this night. No, the guards wouldn't stop me. They have seen me come and go many a time—I ride out to hunt nearly once in every week.”

“Well, that is good.” We sat in silence then, searching our minds for some workable idea.

“Wait—I have thought of something!” Bella said.

“Tell me!”

“We shall say the king and queen of Moranmoor sent a message some days ago, saying they were now in better health and they
would
attend the wedding after all. But they set out late, and their journey was further delayed by a series of mishaps—a broken carriage wheel, or something of that nature—and so they missed the wedding and are only just arriving now. And therefore you and I—as prince of Moranmoor and lady-in-waiting to the queen—are riding out to welcome them and escort them to the castle!”

“That is very good, Bella—though the guards might think it strange for us to ride out alone, only the two of us, with no other dignitaries.”

“
Or
they might believe King Harry means to snub your brother for his rudeness, by sending only you and me to greet him.”

“How clever you are!” I said. “You always could tell a good story. That should do excellently well!”

“Then let us make haste,” she said. “For it grows late.”

As we stepped out into the hallway, I thought I saw someone moving in the shadows. I gasped and squeezed Bella's hand. We had been overheard.

“Halt!” I said. The figure stopped where it was.

“It is the dwarf,” Bella whispered, then rushed over to where he stood, cowering in the darkness. She took firm hold of his arm and leaned down to speak to him.

“You!” she hissed. “Did I not reward you well enough for your service? Is this how you repay me—by spying upon me?”

“Indeed, no, my lady,” he said. “I was only waiting for my turn in the garderobe.”

“The privy is at the
other end of the hall
,” I said. “Do not take us for fools. You were eavesdropping.”

“If I heard a thing or two, my lord prince, I
assure
you I will repeat none of it . . . though I
am
a
poor
man, who was not blessed by nature and must live by his wits—and there are those who would pay me well to hear it.”

“You are a proper villain,” I said angrily. I hated giving in to his blackmail. Yet I knew—as he did—that we had no other choice, and very little time. And so I gave him a gold coin. “See that this buys your silence,” I said.

He backed away from us slowly and bowed. “Indeed, my lord. It will be as you say.
Silent as the grave.
” And then he was gone.

I
t was Julian who spun our tale to the guards, and he did it right well, for he can tell a good story, too. He put in enough details to be believable, but did not say too much. And his natural authority made him all the more persuasive. The guards, asking no further questions, simply opened the gates and let us out. I could scarce believe our good fortune—it had been far too easy!

“Be awake and looking for our return,” I called back, “so that you do not keep the king and his party waiting when we arrive at the gate!”

“We will be watching, my lady.”

Julian gave me a sharp look. “Why did you say that?” he asked.

“Oh, Julian—it was only a small warning,” I said. “It gave nothing away. If Gilbert is not to be persuaded, then perhaps the guards will be a bit more alert to movement out there in the darkness—or assassins sneaking up behind them. Would that I could warn the villagers, too.”

“Never fear,” Julian said bitterly. “Methinks the dwarf will do it for you.”

“You do not trust him, then?”

“Of course not. Do you? He took my money—as he took yours—and now he will claim King Harry's reward as well. I only pray that it takes him a while to accomplish it. Can you not ride any faster?”

“No. It is not easy riding sidesaddle—I am not accustomed to it. And I cannot sit astride in this gown. You must go ahead and find your brother. I will wait for you over there, in the forest. See that clump of birches? There is a clearing, just beyond them. That is where I will be. When it is over, whatever happens, come and find me if you can. If not, I will make my way back to the King's City on my own.”

“I don't like it,” he said, “to leave you alone in the dark of night, at peril of your life from brigands or wild beasts.”

“Oh, Julian! How do you think I got here? I have traveled these roads alone for many days and even slept out in the open once or twice. I am not helpless. Nor am I afraid. You have more important things to think of. Go now, Julian, and stop this butchery before it begins!”

“Bella,” he said solemnly, “if I live through this night, I will come and find you—I promise. And when I do, I will give you a kiss to match the one you gave me—and never after will I have you from my side.” Then he spurred his horse into a gallop and rode away, growing smaller and smaller until he faded into the darkness of the overcast night.

I knew I might never see him again. It is a perilous thing to approach a hidden army in the dark of night; the sentries might well kill him for a spy before ever he got to plead his case to the king. And even should Julian manage to reach his brother, Gilbert was not likely to be persuaded. What were Julian's chances then? Would he survive the attack—wearing only his party clothes, with no weapon but his sword and no shield or armor to protect him?

The more I thought of the dangers he faced and the hopelessness of his task, the more fearful and agitated I became. And so I got down from my horse, and fell to my knees, and begged the blessings of heaven upon Prince Julian and his holy enterprise—for
nothing
is impossible if God wills it to be so.

I do not know how long I knelt there in the road, but by the time I got up, my knees were aching so that I could hardly stand.

All was yet quiet in the night. I knew not the time, but the matins bell had not yet tolled the midnight hour, the signal for the advance. Somewhere in the forest, great matters were being decided, but it was all up to Julian now. There was nothing more that I could do. And so I mounted my horse once more and rode to the clearing near the cluster of birches where I had told him I would wait.

I would use the time to make ready. For, whatever happened, it was likely I would depart that night for Moranmoor, and quite possibly in haste. It would be best, then, to assume once more my old disguise as a boy. I could ride more easily astride, and would be less conspicuous traveling across the country.

And so I removed my headdress and Auntie's beautiful necklace and gold chain and packed them carefully away in the saddlebag. Then I sat down upon a rock and began the laborious business of unfastening each little button on the sleeves of my lady gown. When at last I was free of my finery, I stepped—most reluctantly—out of those magical glass slippers. They had given me much hope and courage, and I might yet be in need of their comfort. Still, it would look right odd to wear them with a tunic and hose!

Dressed as a boy once more, I felt remarkably light and free. I could breathe again, and move with ease, after all those hours in the stiff bodice and tight sleeves of Auntie's elegant gown. And what a relief to take off my fine headdress and be rid of all those hairpins! I unplaited my hair and shook it out so that it lay loose upon my shoulders, the way I used to wear it as a child. Stepmother would not approve, but the gentle play of the wind in my curls was so pleasant that I was loath to cover them once again with my cap. Not just yet. Not till it was time to go.

I thought I heard something then, and so I sat there, absolutely still, and listened to the sounds of the night. But it was only the calling of an owl and the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze. All else was quiet. No bells, no hoofbeats or footfalls or creaking wagon wheels.

Of course, this meant nothing. Gilbert would not make his move till midnight. He might be marshaling his troops, even now, getting ready for the advance. Or perhaps he and Julian were still in conversation and all yet hung in the balance. Oh, how I longed to know what was happening out there in those silent woods! And how helpless and useless I felt, sitting on a rock, waiting and doing nothing, when so much was at stake!

I went over to my horse and I reached into the satchel again. This time I pulled out the wooden box that held my little dough figures, each of them swaddled like a babe in a narrow strip of sacking. I unwrapped them one by one and held them tenderly in my hands. Then I kissed them and arranged them with care upon the flat rim of the rock. They had kept me company through many a dark night, back at my father's house. Now they would stand watch with me on the darkest night of all—as I waited to learn would we have war or peace, would Julian live or die.

On impulse, I picked up the little prince once more and held him close to my heart, wishing him safe, and well, and triumphant. Then I returned him to my family and went back to putting my things away.

As I was folding the gown, I saw to my shame that the skirt was soiled with mud, from my kneeling in the road. Oh, poor Auntie! She had given me her most precious things, trusting me to take care of them. And now I had ruined her beautiful dress. I was frantically trying to brush the dirt away with my hands when I caught sight of the ring, Alice's emerald. I still wore it upon my finger. And suddenly I remembered—what was it she had said?—“You can see things in it? It could be of help to you?”

Maybe it would tell me something of Julian! And so, my heart racing, I dropped the gown and ran to the edge of the forest in hopes that the light would be better there. But the night was overcast, and even out in the open I could not see well. Then, of a sudden, the clouds parted and a shaft of pale moonlight shone full upon the emerald—a most encouraging sign, if you believed in such things!

I took the ring off my finger and angled it to the light. At first I could see nothing, but as I continued to stare, a blurred figure began to form within. The longer I looked, the clearer the image became until, with a sudden thrill of excitement, I saw that it was Julian!

I held my breath, so as to keep absolutely still. I feared to move the emerald in the slightest. Soon the vision was as vivid and plain as in life, but for the pale green haze that seemed to fill the air. I could see that Julian's head was lowered, as if in prayer—but his expression was one of terrible sadness. And also there was something odd about the way he sat his horse; he was bent forward and his hands were not holding the reins. And suddenly, with a sting of pain, I understood why: they were
tied behind his back
!

That was when I heard the bells—not the slow, steady peal of matins, but the raucous clang of alarm, familiar from childhood. Julian had been right—the dwarf
had
betrayed us! Moments later I saw torches moving upon the battlements and heard the shouts of villagers. They were rising up from their sleep, confused to hear the alarm at night, and in peacetime. I could see them in my mind, pulling on their clothes, wrapping their babies in blankets against the damp—and shouting, shouting.