The Prince in Exile

Chapter 14

"A ball," Erzsebet repeated, incredulous, pulling Szog's reins to draw nearer to Gertrude and her mare.

"So he said," she replied. Her eyes crinkled with her unfathomable love. "The prince will be setting out to his army encampment before the month's end, for Lord knows how long. I gather he wants to have a last taste of high culture before he goes."

Despite the sky's gray dreariness, Gertrude had insisted they go for an afternoon ride across the lands west of the city. The farm plots around Varasd were densely packed, but Gertrude had brought them to one of the few untilled fields, and there they had spent the last hour riding about, mostly at a walk while they spoke, rising to a trot when the mood struck.

Despite the relaxed pace, Szog seemed pleased. The stable grooms took the stallion out every day, or so they assured Erzsebet, but perhaps not so far, or perhaps he simply missed her. She had felt guilty for leaving the horse in the hands of others, but there was little pleasure in taking him out this afternoon. Riding was no great trouble–her belated courses had come and gone, and the air was warm despite the hidden sun, so comfort was not at issue–but still the dull atmosphere dragged upon her spirit.

And now, atop her malaise was laid ill news.

"And when, praytell, will this farewell ball be?" Erzsebet asked, already dreading the event.

"The night of St. Ivan," Gertrude answered, grinning with converse anticipation. "While the commoners are out in the fields with their brands and bonfires, we shall have our own revels."

"Midsummer? But that's hardly more than a week away!" Indeed, on their way out, Erzsebet had spied the cut wood and deadfall already piled in preparation for the festival.

Nodding with glee, Gertrude looked half her age, utterly at odds with the apprehension that flooded Erzsebet's chest. "Exciting, isn't it? It's almost like a surprise party!"

"I hate surprise parties," Erzsebet muttered.

"Oh, don't worry so much! It will be fun, I promise–and of course, you can leave at any time."

"How about I simply never arrive?"

"No, no, that won't do. You must show your face at least a little–if you want to make allies in the court, you have to spend at least some time among the nobility. Besides," she added mischievously, leaning from her saddle to speak close, "you still need a husband. Where better than a ball to find a beau?"

Erzsebet grimaced at the last. The ease of the recent days had relied much on her diversion from her plans, but she could evade her future no longer. Would she still go through with it? Could she still try to steal the prince from Gertrude, after all the girl had done for her?

Perhaps there was no need. Perhaps Andras was right, and merely encamping near the palatine's lands would scare him into releasing her parents–but when she thought of the elder Benedek, she could not imagine him being scared into doing anything. And even if he was, would they be safe? Benedek would yet be palatine, high in the king's favor, with lands just across the Duna from her father's castle–and Ilona and Antal were still out there, somewhere.

In certainty it came to her: she would never be truly safe until the palatine was stripped of his titles and lands and locked in a dungeon–or dead. Neither would come to pass if she did nothing, but could they only be achieved if she won the prince's heart? Perhaps, through the love of another, someone close to the prince's ear, she might persuade Andras to do what needed to be done.

Perhaps she needn't betray Gertrude after all.

The girl was right, then, much to Erzsebet's displeasure: the ball would be her best chance to catch the eye of one of Andras' men before they all went off to posture at war.