In Guards We Trust
***
Jason returned to the palace after five thirty that evening. He was dressed in a ceremonial merchant-navy captain’s uniform which he had specially ordered from William Sneddon, the finest tailor in Boston. His trousers were dark blue with two distinct gold stripes running down the sides. He wore expensive black ceremonial boots. The jacket was a deep purple with gold braiding and his hat was dark blue with gold braiding. Ceremonial uniforms for merchant-navy officers were not common in Europe. Jason felt confident he would be the only one at the ball wearing the unique uniform.
He was escorted to the royal gardens which were located adjacent to the eastern wing of the palace. A crowd of fashionably dressed guests had already gathered. Some reclined on the seating provided. Most of the guests congregated in small groups as they engaged in conversation. Palace butlers ensured that no-one suffered from a shortage of champagne or fruit juice. Jason was about to join a small group of guests which included Lord Graveny when he noticed a man wearing a uniform similar in all respects to his, but for the rank, which was that of a merchant navy commander. The wearer of the offending uniform was standing on his own admiring the view of the city and the harbour below. He was making short work of a flute of champagne.
‘And what, may I ask, are you doing here?’ Jason asked his friend, Oliver Pemberton as he approached from behind. Oliver turned around and saluted smartly. The salute was entirely unnecessary but Jason felt that the elegance of the uniform demanded that he return the salute.
‘Good evening, Captain,’ Oliver greeted with his characteristic grin. ‘I have been invited by his royal highness, the crown prince.’
‘Do you know his royal highness?’ Jason enquired. Oliver had never previously mentioned having any links with the Garibaldi family. Jason was more than a little relieved that Oliver had not received his invitation from the princess. He accepted one of the flutes of champagne being offered to him on a tray. Oliver lost no time in exchanging his now defective champagne flute for one which reinstated a fitting flow of the delightful bubbles. The sun had already set behind the western Montugan Alps, although it still shone on part of Monte Vista bay and the Mediterranean beyond. The spreading shadows of dusk were accompanied by the arrival of palace servants who proceeded to light a large arrangement of oil lanterns in the shape of large celestial balls.
‘No. This invitation came out of the blue. I thought you might be behind it.’
‘I was not.’ Jason’s relief was short lived as it occurred to him that Oliver’s invitation had probably been issued by the crown prince at his sister’s behest. Jason did not particularly relish competing with Oliver for the princess’s affections. On the other hand, he was also not about to throw in the towel. On previous occasions where the two friends had shown interest in the same woman, Oliver’s charm had always prevailed. After one recent such incident had led to tensions between them, Oliver had turned up on the following day with a rare bottle of whisky as a peace offering. In the midst of their joint assault on the whisky bottle, Oliver had shared some observations with his friend:
‘Success comes naturally to you in almost everything. I have tried to figure out why not with women. I have concluded you are too agreeable and too respectful towards them!’ He seemed delighted with his theory. ‘A lady sometimes prefers a man to be an interesting scoundrel instead of a boring saint. This is what I think anyhow and it has certainly worked for me.’ Oliver’s next observation was equally unusual.
‘I’ve never met a woman who is entirely happy with her looks. This is particularly true of extremely beautiful women. You might remember that when you wish you could change something about your own appearance. Women generally do not look at men in the way men look at women. Confidence and style does more for a man than powder and paint can do for a woman.’
Jason decided not to tell Oliver about his suspicion that the princess may have been responsible for Oliver’s invitation. He also decided not to tell Oliver of his own interest in the princess. The two of them joined a group of ambassadors, including Lord Graveny. Jason excused himself from a discussion he was involved in to accost a butler bearing a tray of champagne flutes.
‘Don’t look now,’ Jason whispered. ‘But do you see that gentleman over there in the uniform which looks like mine?’
‘Indeed, my lord,’ the butler responded discretely.
‘His champagne flute has suffered a most horrendous misfortune. I hope I can rely upon you to ensure that it does not occur again.’
‘Of course, my lord. May I offer your lordship a refill?’
‘Never mind about me. Make sure that you look after him.’
At a quarter to seven one of the servants struck a massive gong using a large baton. The sound reduced the guests to silence in an instant.
‘My Lords! My Ladies! Your Excellences! Ladies and Gentlemen! Their royal Highnesses, Crown Prince Ruan and Princess Renate request the pleasure of your company in the banquet hall,’ someone announced loudly. ‘You will be escorted to your seats as you enter the hall.’
The guests walked from the royal garden into a long marble foyer lit by rows of large torches affixed to the walls. Alongside each of the walls was a magnificent row of alcoves containing life size marble, ivory and bronze statues. Additional torches illuminated each statue. The statues included Montugan knights, leopards, unicorns and a few semi-erotic sculptures. Jason was awe-struck at the opulence.
The main banquet hall was large enough to accommodate three hundred guests. The striking royal ensign of the Garibaldi monarchy dominated the rear wall. The roof was dome shaped. Recessed oil lamps at the base of the dome illuminated five splendidly sculptured swords which protruded from the dome. The swords were painted silver which contrasted with the bright yellow of the remainder of the dome. The handles of the swords extended to the base of the dome. The tips of the five blades linked to a small white circle at the centre of the dome. A sumptuous maroon carpet covered the entire floor of the hall. Dozens of round candlelit tables were immaculately set out and each table was surrounded by gold plated chairs with satin covered cushions and backrests. Huge oil lamps affixed to the walls provided additional lighting.
A large square main table was strategically positioned at the front of the hall. The royal ensign was draped over the wall behind the table. Two seats which were slightly larger than the others faced the rest of the hall. Both were covered in a luxurious blue material. Once all the guests were assembled in front of their seats, the sound of six trumpets heralded the imminent arrival of the crown prince and princess. As the echoes of the trumpets faded a voice loudly announced:
‘My Lords! My Ladies! Your Excellences! Ladies and Gentlemen! Please welcome his royal Highness, Crown prince Ruan of Montuga and her royal Highness, princess Renate of Montuga.’
The double doors at the elevated platform in the front of the hall opened and the prince and princess walked through to the stage. The main table was directly below them. The guests bowed in their direction. The prince acknowledged the bows with a discrete nod of his head. The princess was dressed in a magnificent red ballroom gown. Her hair was tied with a red bow. She looked as alluring and as glamorous as ever. The prince was every bit as striking as his sister. He had neatly styled dirty-blond hair. Although his skin tone was lighter than that of his sister’s, he was tanned. He had selected an all-white stylish robe with purple trimmings which revealed most of his upper arms. The garment accentuated his tanned complexion. The robe’s tight fitting cut revealed a relatively slim yet, defined physique. The prince also shared his sister’s sensual mouth and her beguiling blue-green eyes. Jason estimated him to be about eighteen years of age.
‘My Lords! My Ladies! Your Excellences! Ladies and Gentlemen! The princess and I bid you all welcome to the royal ball here in Montuga. Recent events in France have prevented this occasion, which is normally a highlight of the social calendar in Montuga, from taking place. But is it not those same events which cry out for
royal balls such as this to be held more, rather than less often, so that they may serve not only as a fitting respite from the curse of republicanism but a fitting response to boot. I therefore command you all to eat, drink and to be merry.’
After the enthusiastic applause died down, the prince and princess descended the stairs from the stage. Once they were seated, their guests followed suit.
Dinner was a lavish five course affair with a choice of at least two options for each course. An astonishing selection of sauces accompanied both the venison and the duck which comprised the main course. The wine list boasted some of the finest red and white varieties available. Those who enquired about additional bottles were delighted to learn that the palace’s sommelier did not expect any of the wines on the list to be unavailable, irrespective of the demand. Many of the French vintages dated back to years when concepts such as the United States of America or the French National Assembly had not even been contemplated.
After dinner, the banquet hall was seamlessly converted to a ballroom as the last of the dinner tables were silently ferried away by servants. The string quartet which had entertained the guests during the dinner courses was replaced on the stage by a full symphony orchestra.
The prince and the princess opened the dance floor as a magnificent waltz commenced. For a few minutes the brother and sister combination enthralled their guests with an accomplished dance routine. Before the waltz ended, the prince and princess gestured to their guests to join them, switching partners as others took to the floor. Jason was not a particularly proficient dancer. He chose to stand on one of the stairs leading to the stage in order to have a good view of the princess as she slipped past, accompanied by various partners.
After Jason spotted the princess and her two ladies in waiting heading from the ball room to the balcony, he lost no time in following her. He ensured that Oliver accompanied him. Jason was accosted by one of the ladies in waiting as he stepped on to the balcony and approached the princess.
‘Do you wish an audience with her majesty, my lord,’ she respectfully enquired. The blond haired lady in waiting was almost as attractive as the princess herself and Oliver’s lustful stare at her ample bosom did not go unnoticed by anyone on the balcony, including the princess herself. She and the other lady in waiting stood to one side as they both fanned themselves.
‘Yes, this is the Earl of Somerset and I am…’
‘I will see Lord Cavendish,’ the princess said.
‘Good evening, your highness,’ Jason said as he bowed before the princess.
‘Good evening my lord. I did not notice you dancing. Do you not dance?’ the princess enquired. Her greenish-blue eyes failed to reveal any emotion as she regarded him. Did he imagine a smile lurking behind those sensual lips? Jason could not detect whether she was pleased to see him or whether she simply took some perverse pleasure in teasing him.
‘No, highness. I am afraid that I am not much of a dancer.’ Save for a polite smile, Jason made an effort to maintain a neutral expression which betrayed neither his mild annoyance at her remark, nor his attraction for her. ‘Your highness, will recall enquiring about my good friend Oliver Pemberton when last we met. I thought I might take the liberty of introducing him to you.’ Oliver stepped forward on cue. ‘May I present the Honourable Oliver Pemberton, the Earl of Somerset?’
‘I am delighted to meet you, your royal highness.’ Oliver resorted to his enticing smile in an attempt to divert attention away from his prior, less than subtle attempts to seduce the lady in waiting. Once champagne or the like took hold of Oliver, he usually tended to become highly flirtatious and a touch myopic in focus. This evening was no exception. Oliver had never previously met the princess. It was only now that he could observe her from closer that he realised that she was far more attractive than her seductive lady in waiting.
‘The pleasure is mine,’ Renate responded civilly. She smiled politely at Oliver before directing a fleeting, yet ostensibly annoyed glance at Jason. The ladies in waiting similarly glared at Jason with expressions which conspired to combine disapproval and disbelief in equal measure.
‘And now, your royal highness, if you will pardon me…’ Jason bowed in the princess’s direction. As he raised his head he did something he had never dared to do previously. He stared directly into her eyes. He allowed the facade to drop for a split second. If she noticed the predator in his eyes, it would only be a transient glimpse. The princess blinked. She seemed a little surprised, and also slightly puzzled. Jason broke eye contact, bowed again, smiled confidently, vacated the balcony and returned to the ball room. He let out a deep breath as he re-entered the ball room. It was possible that he had failed miserably. Yet he hoped, instead, that he had aroused her interest or at least her curiosity. At least he had done something which, even if he adjudged it so himself, was something rather bold.
He wandered over to the ball room and seated himself near the orchestra. He observed as couples gracefully coasted across the floor in apparent submission to the divine melodies which captivated one and all. Jason was carried away by the atmosphere. He consumed another glass of wine before joining the company of several ladies who were also observing from the side-lines. They chatted as magnificent ball room gowns, costumes and several delightful bodies within them orbited around the hall in time to the rhythm. The guests revelled in the sheer ostentation of the occasion. It was as if, for one night only, the afflictions of time and social transformation had ceased to be of any significance. Jason’s eyes regularly surveyed the open balcony doors. If either Renate or Oliver had returned to the ballroom, he had missed it.
He returned to the balcony after a while to find that both of them, and the two ladies in waiting, were no longer there. A familiar feeling overcame him. He wondered whether Oliver had prevailed. Jason doubted that he would have missed the princess’s return to the ball room? He wondered whether the princess, Oliver and the ladies in waiting could possibly have taken a stroll in the royal gardens? He wondered whether the princess and Oliver had slipped off somewhere alone. He felt both annoyed and disappointed at the thought that even Renate might not be immune to Oliver’s charms.
He stood on the balcony overlooking the palace grounds and the city. Lanterns placed across the grounds formed mystic islands of light. The stars in the cloudless sky above sparkled as if specifically summoned to perfect the enchanted ambience. Jason descended the flight of stairs leading from the ball room balcony, heading for the courtyard. He was unsure of precisely where he was going, but his curiosity egged him on. The music filtered out from the ballroom, gently caressing the palace grounds. He noticed a figure in white sitting on one of the low walls of the courtyard. The lone figure gazed out across the city.
‘Is everything all right, your royal highness?’ Jason enquired after recognising the crown prince.
‘You can call me Ruan whenever we are alone, Jason.’
‘How do you know who I am?’ Jason had never previously met the crown prince.
‘Despite my reputation for frivolity and excess, I know more about what goes on in this palace than I am given credit for, First Sealord.’ The additional emphasis Ruan placed on the last two words was not lost on Jason. The prince produced a bottle which he handed to Jason. ‘Have some of this.’ It sounded more like an order than a suggestion and Jason thought it wise to comply. Jason tasted the contents of the elegantly shaped blue bottle.
‘It is good. What is it?’
‘Whisky-liqueur. Imported from Scotland. It is rare. And rather potent too I might add.’
‘Why are you out here on your own? After all, this is your ball.’
‘I could ask you a similar question? Although I suspect my sister and the Earl of Somerset have something to do with it.’ The prince gave Jason a knowing glance.
‘Have you seen them?’ Jason asked. He tried to come across nonchalantly.
‘The last I saw they were both heading down the steps to the lower palace garden
s.’ He watched Jason carefully. An inordinate time passed before Ruan continued. ‘The ladies in waiting were in attendance.’ It seemed as if Ruan could sense Jason’s relief.
‘Are you interested in my sister?’ The Prince’s ability to keep Jason off-balance evidently came easily to him. ‘You don’t have to worry. I won’t say anything to her unless you want me to.’
‘You are hardly likely to keep anything I say from your sister?’
‘True,’ Ruan conceded with a mischievous smile. It was indistinguishable from Renate’s. ‘However, I am informed that you are to be responsible for my safety. You are to be some form of bodyguard and possibly also my brother in law, so it might be foolish to cross you.’
‘Brother in law?’
Ruan was doing it again.
‘What do you mean?’ Jason added. He found Ruan’s casual reference to the princess in such terms as disconcerting to hear as it was agreeable to contemplate. The whisky liqueur, along with everything else he had consumed since he had arrived at the palace was beginning to have an effect on him.
‘Relax. I am merely trifling with you.’ The prince grinned. ‘But I think you have confirmed my assumption.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘Come with me, I want to show you something.’
Jason found the prince’s infectious enthusiasm almost childlike, yet oddly refreshing. It was only the smile which hinted at any absence of innocence. He followed Ruan towards the side of the palace. They ended up outside a room on the third floor of the palace. Ruan grabbed one of the lanterns in the passage and he opened the door to the room. Jason followed him in. It was an enormous study filled with books. One of the walls displayed a painting Jason recognised. It was Van der Kant’s Clock Tower.
‘So you were the mystery purchaser.’
‘Yes. It was my first auction and from the moment I saw it, I simply had to have it.’ Ruan looked a little sorrowful. ‘I hope you are not annoyed about it.’
‘Not in the least. It is a spectacular painting and I am pleased to be able to see it again.’
‘Good. This way now. You will like this.’
Minutes later they exited the palace from the same entrance they had used to enter it earlier. Jason felt none too steady on his feet as the effect of the whiskey liqueur took hold. He had no idea where the prince was taking him next. In any event, it no longer seemed to matter. Ruan led him to a small square building on the side of the palace. As Ruan struggled to open a latch mechanism on the door, it was clear that he was also considerably under the influence.
‘Stay there,’ Ruan ordered as he floundered about in the dark, looking for lanterns. As a lantern came alive Jason realised they were in a mini-Roman bath complex. The bath was filled with water and steam emanated from it. The bath was large enough for two or three to fit comfortably.
‘The servants keep the fire which heats the water going constantly,’ Ruan explained as he stepped out of his robe and out of his undergarment. Ruan’s illuminated form was indefinably reminiscent of Michelangelo’s David. ‘Don’t just stand there. Get your kit off and join me. It will help you to sober up.’
As they sat head to toe in the water, any hope of impending sobriety was quickly despatched when Ruan reached around the side of the bath and found the bottle of whisky liqueur.
‘You still have not told me why you are not at your own party.’
‘It may be a party for most of those who attend, but it is more of a duty for me. I am expected to meet prospective brides. This year it is worse than usual. Some of the people who usually attend from France are either dead or in hiding. Worse still, my father has gone and ended diplomatic relations with Austria and Prussia for so long as they are at war with France. That leaves no-one from outside Montuga except the Russians. I have never been able to relate to the Russians.’
‘Are you expected to marry royalty?’
‘Yes, preferably. Montuga is a small kingdom which is facing major challenges now. You can imagine how much pressure there is on me to marry a princess from one of Europe’s influential royal families. In the absence of a suitable princess however, the daughter of a duke is also permitted.’
‘Is there someone suitable your father has in mind?’
‘There have been one or two princesses. But no one I care for.’
‘Surely your father understands that you must also love the person you marry?’
‘He frequently lectures about duty. He forgets that he loved my mother. I often remind him about that when he starts to preach that being royal means putting duty before love.’
‘Is there someone you love your father disapproves of.’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever been in love?’
‘I thought I was once or twice. But it was infatuation. Now I will know if it happens.’
‘Was there no-one special here tonight? Or could it be that you hold a candle for someone who is here, but who has eyes for another. Could it be the reason why you have left your own ball to seek the companionship of a bottle of whisky-liqueur for instance?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Who?’
‘I said “possibly”, not “yes”. Ruan threw his head back to receive the last of the whisky, but the bottle was empty.
They emerged from the water a half an hour later. Neither could stand properly.
‘There are two small bedrooms over there. We can sleep it off until tomorrow.’ He led Jason to a small single bed in a small room which had more in common with a prison cell than a bedroom. Jason flopped onto the bed which, considering the state he was in, seemed comfortable enough. If only something could be done to stop the bed from slowly spinning.
‘Good night.’ Ruan called from the other bedroom. But Jason had drifted off.
Jason dreamed that Renate was between his legs. She took him in her sensual mouth and the suction motions were driving him wild. He felt as if he were waking up. The spinning sensation returned until the distraction of what Renate was doing to him eventually became too much and he exploded into her. It had never felt this erotic before. After several convulsions of ecstasy his body was overcome by a deep sense of relaxation and he drifted off into an almost immediate deep, contented sleep. The last thought which occurred to him before he totally succumbed to sleep was to marvel at how intense it had seemed.