An Arranged Marriage - 5

    The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting patterns of brilliant and dark greens on Ilona’s path.  Carefully fashioned bushes towered over her head, creating a familiar maze for her wandering feet.  A turn in the path brought her suddenly into Prince Detlef’s view.  

    He sat in a wide swing, sheltered by a stone arbor.  His eyes were half-shut, but he smiled when he saw her.  “We used to play in this swing every day.  I’ve rather missed it.”

    Sudden shyness stole Ilona’s tongue, but some little-girl-part of her wanted to clamber up into the seat next to him.  The swing, in its little stone arbor, was one of her favorite places in the garden.  Now, looking at Detlef’s wistful expression, she wondered if that was because of him.

     “But I’ve interrupted your walk.” Detlef looked apologetic and then hopeful as he swung to his feet, leaving the arbor behind him.  “May I join you?”

     She smiled and nodded, suddenly unable to think of anything she would like better.  “You’re an early riser.  I think most of our guests are still in bed.”

     “I could say the same to you.  I hope we have not disturbed your routine too greatly.”

    “Come to think of it, Cordula didn’t tell me her story this morning.” Ilona clasped her hands in exaggerated surprise.  “I suppose I’ll survive.  Since I know the story by heart already.”

     Detlef laughed – a deep, throaty chuckle.  He fell into step beside her and together they traced the maze through the late summer shrubbery. “How are your father and mother?  I’ve hardly spoken to them since I arrived.” 

     “They are well.  I think you will not find them much changed since you were here before.  Papa is as impulsive and kind and strong as ever.  Mother is as wise and beautiful and good.”

      The prince murmured his approval and then asked, “Will you tell me Cordula’s story?”  He crossed his hands behind his back expectantly and winked.  “Then, at least, the story will be rehearsed.  We don’t want to affect your morning any more than we have to.”

     Ilona laughed and then began her tale.  “It likely won’t interest you, but I will if you insist.  According to the story, an old woman with a spindle showed up unexpectedly at the castle and predicted my birth, some 8 months before I was born.  And, at my naming ceremony, she appeared again.”

    “Was she a Derwald woman? One of the forest people?”

    Ilona shot a surprised look at the prince.  “The Derwald people are Hanadil myths.  They don’t exist.  How do you know about them?!?!”

    He shrugged.  “I was here for a summer, remember?”  He lifted an eyebrow at Ilona.  “Why are you so sure that they don’t exist?”

    “I would know about them, wouldn’t I?  You can’t tell me that there is an entire clan of people hiding in my own forest, living in Hanadil but without being subject to its laws.”  Ilona shook her head in scorn.  “Cordula only claims the spindle woman was a Derwald to make her story better.”

    “I see.  So, go on.  What happens next in Cordula’s story?”

    Ilona stopped by a crepe myrtle tree and closed her eyes, watching the story in her mind as she rehearsed it to Detlef.  She could see the old woman, with tea-stained skin, dressed in greens and holding her small spindle as she entered the throne room.  She could see the crowd parting for her, each person pulling back in a mixture of surprise and fear.

    “You have named the child?”  Her voice was hoarse with age.

    Queen Amalia clutched her baby, too frightened to speak.  It was King Adalbert who answered the spindle woman.  “Her name is Ilona.”

    The old woman closed her eyes and tilted her head back as if savoring the taste of the name.  Then she opened her eyes and looked at the queen.  “The child will grow to be a beautiful woman, her beauty and grace surpassing all others.  She will be clever and wise beyond her years.  She will have the gift of music – in song and dance.  And she will be of a kind temperament – a pleasure to all around her.”

    “Thank you, stranger.”  King Adalbert nodded respectfully to the old spindle woman.  “Please take your seat among our guests.”

    “There is more to say.”  The woman looked directly at Queen Amalia.  “You pretend to forget your promises, but you cannot escape them.  One day Ilona will disappear from your care, and you will find this spindle left in her place.”  And the old woman tapped her small spindle ominously.

     “Rather a disturbing story for the heroine, isn’t it?” Detlef’s voice broke into her imagination and Ilona blinked her eyes open to see the stone in-laid path and the overhanging branches.

     “Not really.  Cordula always ends with my papa’s decree that no one with a spindle be allowed near the castle, and the fact that I lived happily ever after.  I was never overly frightened.  My papa has always been big and strong in my eyes.”  She smiled childishly.  “He could protect me.”

      “I would have equal confidence in your Derwald people.”

    Ilona laughed merrily.

    Detlef smiled.  Then his eyes wandered over Ilona’s shoulder and he stiffened.  “I see I am not the only early riser,” he growled.

    Ilona followed his gaze to see Emil coming towards them.  “Maybe the three of us can finish our walk together,” she said hopefully.

    Emil reached them and bowed politely to Detlef.  “I believe, your highness, that your…servant was looking for you.  It seemed he had a matter that needed your urgent attention.”

    Detlef squared his shoulders to face Emil.  “Did he?” His voice was crisp and measured.

    A small smile flickered across Emil’s face and he raised his eyebrows innocently.  “Indeed.  I believe he headed in the direction of the stables.  I am happy to escort the princess back for you.”

    “I’ll warrant you are.”

    Ilona looked from one to the other, not sure what exactly was going on.  “No need.”  She puckered her eyebrows in puzzlement.  “These are my own gardens.  I am quite capable of walking back alone.”

    Emil smiled at her, his eyes bright with welcome.  “Oh, but I was hoping you would take a turn through the rose garden with me.  I hear your gardeners have the finest roses in Hanadil.”  He held out his arm.

    Ilona couldn’t help but smile.  “It’s true.”  She took his offered arm.  “I’d be delighted to show you.”

    “I will go attend to my servant.” Detlef held his chin up like a man boldly facing exile.  “I shall see you later, Ilona.”

(by Esther Brooksmith)