The Prince in Exile

Chapter 5

Daylight granted an odd properness to the obsessive arrangement of Gertrude's parlor, as if the morning were a time more apt for such perfection–or perhaps Erzsebet was merely getting used to the decor. In truth little had changed from last night's meal, save one key distinction: they were not alone.

"Lady Erzsebet, I present to you Margit, Princess of Hungary. Your Highness, I give you the lady Erzsebet."

Princess? There had been mention of an Auntie Margit, but no word of royalty. "Your Highness," Erzsebet said, bowing deeply, as much to hide her surprise as anything.

"Oh please, none of that! Stand up straight, let me get a look at you."

Erzsebet did as she was told, and took the chance to look upon the older woman in turn. She was in truth not that old–perhaps a few years older than Erzsebet's mother. Dressed well, fashionable and modest, befitting a widow. She had lines about her mouth, but a full and dark head of hair beneath her headdress.

"My, what a fetching creature," the woman murmured. "And dressed to draw eyes–you had better keep a tight hold on your betrothed, Gertrude, or this one might snatch him up."

Erzsebet flinched as Gertrude gasped. "Highness, please!" the girl said, aghast. "Don't even joke about such a thing. Erzsebet is in desperate straits–"

"Which is precisely when a woman needs to snare an established man," the princess sneered. "And I've told you before not to bother with this Highness' nonsense–a poor joke, to call an old crone like me 'princess.' My blood hasn't mattered for years."

"I would never think–" Erzsebet began, then caught herself. "Gertrude has been nothing but gracious to me." Still reeling from the accusation–both the audacity and its accuracy–it seemed best to turn the conversation aside. "Apologies, Your Highness, but–"

"Enough I said!" the woman snapped, though still without any real ire. "Call me Margit, or Auntie, or call me nothing at all. Highness–pfah! How high does my station look, hmm?"

"Apologies–Auntie." Despite the circumstances, Erzsebet found herself liking the woman. "I knew the king had a sister named Margit, but I had thought she... had married out of the kingdom."

That earned a grin from the woman. "Out of the kingdom–and half my age, you mean to say. Right enough–no, I am not that princess Margit. I am not the prince's sister, but his aunt, youngest sister of his father." A look of grief passed over her features. "That poor girl–I complain of my station, but she's seen a much steeper fall than mine. Ah, but let us not spoil breakfast with such unpleasantness. Come, Erzsebet, take this seat here at my side–I'll suffer too much envy if you sit across from me."

With some pleasure she slipped into the chair, as Gertrude returned to her seat across the table. The first dish had already been served, a small bowl of pale porridge for both of them, with spice and honey drizzled on top. Even as Erzsebet glanced at the settings, a servant appeared and placed a bowl before her. "My thanks," she said, eyeing the substance. "And this is?"

"A comfort food of mine," Gertrude explained, smiling with self-indulgence. "One would call it lowborn-food back in Bavaria; my father would have a fit if he knew I'd had the cooks whip it up. It is a type of bread pudding called–well, in your language, I suppose it would be something like 'white mush.'" She giggled. "It sounds no more appetizing in Bavarian, but don't let the name stop you. Please, try!"

It certainly wouldn't do to hesitate. Auntie Margit was already eating, though Gertrude was waiting for Erzsebet. Thankfully there was hardly a smell to the mush beyond the powdered cinnamon. She raised her silver spoon and brought a portion of the thick muck to her mouth, blowing gently against the steam. A small bite, prepared for the unpleasant texture of soggy bread–but no, the pudding had cooked long enough to dissolve the bread, and so it was little different from oatmeal. Indeed, with the cinnamon and honey, it was quite tasty, if plain. She aimed a smile at Gertrude and said, "Delicious!"