The Virgin and His Majesty

‘Here we are,’ he said without emphasis.

The vehicle drew up outside the heavy, ancient door of an equally ancient building. People turned to look when the security man, until then a silent presence beside the chauffeur, got out. A doorman moved across the pavement to open the car’s rear door.

It was all done swiftly, discreetly, yet the smooth operation sent a chill down Rosie’s spine as she and Gerd went through the door and into the building. Her own life was so free, compared to Gerd’s.

On the other hand, she thought with an effort at flippancy, she wasn’t rich enough to dine in places like this.

As though he could read her mind, Gerd said, ‘This is the aristocratic quarter of town. In fact, right next door is the town house of the Dukes of Vamili.’

Her brow wrinkled. ‘That’s Kelt’s title, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. It’s used for the second son of the ruler now, but before the title was taken over by our family the Duke of Vamili was the second-ranking man in the Grand Duchy, with almost regal power over about a third of Carathia. About two hundred years ago the then Duke led a rebellion against the Grand Duke, and died for his treachery. He had only one child, a daughter, who was married off to the second son of the Grand Duke. The Grand Duke then transferred the title and all the estates—to him.’

‘Poor woman,’ Rosie said crisply. ‘It doesn’t sound like a recipe for a happy marriage.’

His smile was brief. ‘Strangely enough, it appears to have been. Of course, he might have been an excellent husband. And women, especially aristocratic women, of those days didn’t have such high expectations of marriage.’

‘Unlike modern women, who have the audacity to want happiness and fulfilment,’ Rosie returned sweetly, pacing up a wide sweep of shallow stairs.

Gerd cocked an ironic brow. ‘Some seem to believe that both should come without any effort on their part.’

Like my mother, Rosie thought sombrely. Chasing rainbows all her life…

They were shown into a room that opened out through an arcade onto a stone terrace overlooking the great valley of Carathia.

Rosie sighed in involuntary appreciation, walking across to grip the stone balustrade, still warm from the sun. ‘This is so beautiful, like a bowl half-filled with light.’