Bella at Midnight (20 page)

“Two silver ducats,” I said, and his face showed that this was far more than he had expected—possibly more than the king had given him.

“You will pay? You will not say it now and forget it later?”

“I will pay,” I said. Then I pulled the little bag from where it lay inside my
cotte
, and took out the thimble. “If you will deliver
this
to the prince.” I put the thimble into his horny palm—in such a way that the others at my table could not see what it was, and would assume that it was money. Then he left to lean against the wall again, and I turned back and smiled at my tablemates.

“He was most extraordinary,” I explained.

They acknowledged my remark with polite nods, then turned back to the fire-eater, who was just beginning his act. I glanced sideways to see if the dwarf had moved, but still he stood and watched. Then, with great subtlety, as though he only wanted a better view, he moved along the wall in the direction of the high table. This he did three or four times. At last he eased away from the wall and took a few steps toward Julian.

He did not get very far before a couple of guards stepped forward, grabbed him by the arms, and led him away from the head table. They cannot have believed that he intended any harm to the people sitting there; like as not, they thought he wanted to solicit money from them. Red-faced with chagrin, the dwarf returned to his spot, leaned once more against the wall, and waited.

After a while King Harry stood and toasted the happy couple. Then he announced that, although his gout prevented him from dancing, he would be most pleased if Marguerite and her new consort would lead the way. At this cue, the musicians in the gallery began to play, and the dancing began.

Now I watched with even greater care, so that I might follow Julian as he made his way gracefully around the room. He was a most accomplished dancer, I noticed (so far as I could tell), and received many smiles and nods from the ladies he partnered.

Once he passed close by me and I saw that he had not changed so very much—though he was much taller, now, and his chin was longer and his face more angular. And of course the beard greatly altered his appearance. Still, it was the same face, the same aquiline nose and dark curls and piercing eyes—except that there was
nothing
in it of the boy I had once played with! He was a man, now, poised and self-assured, a royal prince at ease with power and sure of his place in the world. And suddenly I was terrified again, for I did not know how I could approach this man, this new Julian. His village days would be nothing to him now, our past forgotten. He had moved on to greater things.

Just then, the dwarf saw his chance. He plunged in among the dancers and began imitating their movements and expressions in a most comical way, first as a mincing lady, then a somber gentleman, to the delight of all. Soon he had joined into the figures, causing great amusement when he ducked his head down low like the others, while going under the bridges, throwing kisses to the bride, and pretending to sport a shapely leg as some of the vainer gentlemen were wont to do. And then, in the midst of all this silliness, Julian swung by and the dwarf reached out and grasped his hand—and, God be praised, the thing was done!

W
e had just begun the dancing when a clever little dwarf, who had performed remarkably earlier in the evening, came out upon the floor and joined us. He was very comical and entertaining, mocking us most unashamedly and making fun of himself as well. This added considerably to the merriment.

Then, as he was in the inner circle and I on the outer, we clasped hands in passing—and he astonished me by slipping something into my hand. I could tell it was a thimble, from the feel of it. And so, to free my hand for the dancing, I slipped it upon my small finger and took care not to lose it.

When at last the dance was over and all were lining up for the next, I took the thimble off my finger and studied it. And how unexpected—how it set my heart racing! I knew that thimble well!

My mother had given it to me when I was just a little lad. I had been brought to the palace for my fourth or fifth birthday—I cannot remember which—and they had given me many fine and costly gifts in honor of the occasion. But the happiest moment of that day was when my mother had allowed me to sit upon her lap for a little while. I remember it still, how she held me close and kissed my hair, and said what a fine, big fellow I was. For that brief time at least, I truly believed that she loved me.

When it came time for me to leave her and return to Castle Down, I wept most piteously. So she sent me to fetch her sewing basket and took out her thimble and gave it to me. It was very beautiful, made of silver and engraved with the king's crest; I thought it the finest gift in all the world. Emotions are fleeting in little children. My tears were already forgotten before they had dried, and I left for my uncle's castle with a smile upon my face. For years I kept the thimble in my chest at Castle Down, and whenever I felt heartsick or lonely, I would take it out and relive the sweetness of that long-ago day.

And then—and then I filled it with ale and pretended it was a fairy flagon and gave it to Bella. Bella! She was
somewhere in that room
!

The next dance began and I stumbled about so badly and stepped upon peoples' toes so often—for I was scanning the crowd for her face and not attending to what I did—that Marguerite hissed, “Mind your feet, Julian; you will tread upon my gown!” And so I withdrew and stood aside—but still I could not see her.

Then I thought of the dwarf who had given me the thimble and looked to see where
he
might be. I spotted him at the far end of the room, talking to a lady in a cream-colored gown, who had turned away to speak with him. I saw her give him something—money, I supposed, for he smiled most beatifically and slipped the thing into his pocket.

Her business completed, the lady then turned around and looked directly at me—and I saw that it was Bella! Her fiery hair was covered with a fine headdress and she was arrayed as grandly as a court lady, but it was Bella, all right. I was so elated that I came near to running across the room and embracing her. But she made a small gesture with her head and eyes—“Outside,” the gesture said. And so I nodded in return and walked as calmly as I could out into the hallway, most grateful that there was not a crowd there, waiting to use the privy.

I found I could not breathe properly. I began to feel giddy with fear and excitement and impatience. Why did she not come?

And then at last I saw her. She seemed to float toward me like some heavenly being, her white gown almost shimmering in the gloom, her little slippers reflecting the torchlight as she walked—so stately and graceful she was! This was not the girl I remembered—the wild and impetuous child who was wont to run and tumble about and play games like a boy!

But then, as she passed by a torch on the wall and the light shone full upon her, I could see that she was only playing at the role of great lady, that her composure was false, and that deep emotion lay beneath the surface of that placid face. She faded into shadow again—and then she was there, standing before me.

“Princess Bella!” I cried. “Just look at you! All grown up and dressed like a lady, with jewels and a veil and such remarkable little slippers! And come all the way to Brutanna to send me secret tokens—what an incredible creature you are!”

She did not smile as I expected, but looked very solemn and almost fearful. “Is there somewhere we can go, so that we may speak in private?”

“We could go into the privy,” I suggested with a grin.

“Julian, truly, I am in earnest,” she said. “At any moment this dance will be over and people will come out here.”

“All right,” I said. “There is a storeroom at the far end of the hall.” She turned and walked quickly in that direction; I followed after her.

The room was dark, so I left the door ajar, allowing some of the torchlight from the hall to penetrate the gloom. Then I took her hands and squeezed them in my excitement. “Bella, Bella,” I said, “I am so amazed! Such a lady you look—truly, I would have taken you for a princess!”

“Not a princess, no,” she said. “But I
am
a lady, as it turns out. The daughter of a knight from the King's City.”

“More amazing still!” I said. “And you were enchanted by fairies and left in a cottage in the village of Castle Down!” I had not meant to mock her in saying this. I was giddy with joy and had merely fallen back into our old games. But Bella stiffened and drew her hands away.

“No, Julian,” she said coldly, “I was
not
enchanted by fairies. I was taken to the village near my father's estate—Burning Wood, I am sure you know of it—and left there in the care of a wet nurse. Beatrice. The same as you.”

“Indeed, I am right glad to hear it,” I said lamely.

“Well, I was not,” she answered. “For my father left me there all those years and thought not a whit about me until he married again. And I would far rather be as I was, and not a lady—for my father loves me not and treats me ill, and my stepmother likewise. But I am wellborn, Julian, I assure you of that. You need not be ashamed to know me now.”

It was a blow, and I deserved it. I ought to have apologized the first moment I saw her—instead of inviting her into the privy and mocking her with talk of fairies! What a thoughtless, clumsy, stupid, bumbling oaf I was! I would not have blamed her if she had wished me to the devil and returned to Moranmoor that very night! And so, while I yet had the chance, I fell to my knees and looked up into her astonished face.

“Bella,” I said, “I left the fair that day and was upon the road to your house when the king's messengers intercepted me, bringing news of the truce and the part I was to play in it. I had meant to be waiting when you came home, so that I might kneel before you, as I do now, and beg your forgiveness. But, Bella, they would not grant me any delay and said I must leave that very hour.”

She tried to interrupt me then, but I would say it all. “Dearest Bella, it had naught to do with your birth. Truly, you could have been begot by trolls, for all I cared! Only, I was so private in my knowing of you, and I was confused and awkward in the presence of those boys. And I was cowardly also, and vile—I know that. I did not deserve your trust or your friendship. But I beg you to look upon me now and see if I am not better, and try to like me again as you did once.”

She leaned over then, as I knelt there—and
kissed
me! Now it was
my
turn to be astonished!

“You never lost my love,” she said. “Nor could you. It was rooted too deep in my heart to tear out in a single day. Still, that was a very pretty speech, and I think it is well that you made it. Only now, dear Julian, you must get up off your knees and let me tell you why I have come, for it will not wait and is a very grave matter—indeed, your life hangs upon it.”

“My
life
?”

“Yes, and much else besides. For your brother Gilbert is waiting even now with an army in yonder woods. It is for that reason he did not come to the wedding—for he will attack at midnight, when the men of Brutanna are tired from the revelry and the worse for drink. And if you are still here, Julian, your life will be forfeit.”

I was so stunned I could not speak at first.

“How came you to learn of this?” I said at last, when I had found my tongue.

“My stepsister is one of the queen's handmaids. There was a great row over at the palace, for the queen was opposed to the plan and stopped speaking to the king on account of it. Naturally my stepsister heard it all and carried the tale home. But I should tell you, Julian, that she said nothing at all of an embassy of knights—and I know not what to make of them.”

Oh, but I did.

“They are here to kill the guards and open the gate for Gilbert when he arrives. For Harry's defenses might be weaker now than once they were, but it would be no easy thing to scale these walls, and all advantage of surprise would be lost. No, my brother wants a slaughter, and an easy one. And do not look so stricken, Bella. Did you not know that war is cruel?”

“I know nearly as much about war as you do, Julian. Only, to come as a guest to a wedding, and sit at Harry's table, and eat his food—and then go out and murder his guards . . .”

“Is despicable,” I said. “Yes. It makes me ill.” I sat down upon a barrel and buried my face in my hands, for I was utterly wretched.

She touched my shoulder gently. “Julian,” she said, “we have not the time to talk of this anymore—you must leave the castle, and quickly.”

“Oh, Bella,” I said, “I know not what to do. I cannot leave here in good conscience, for then I shall be conspiring in my brother's treachery. Father signed the truce upon his sworn oath, and King Harry has kept his side of the bargain and has treated me well. I would not betray his kindness thus. But nor can I warn him of the attack, for that would be treason against my own kingdom. Indeed, Bella, I believe I would rather hang for my brother's crime and save my soul than leave this place and live forever, dishonored and disgraced.”