J.T. sat silently for a moment, playing with one of the five forks to the left of his plate. “I can’t do nothing but follow your granddaughter around. I want to make some changes in this country.”
The king’s face changed from that of a sweet old man to one of a man descended from centuries of warriors. “What changes did you have in mind?”
“Irrigation. Dams. I’d like to bring some of the twentieth century to this place.”
The king’s face showed amazement. “You know of such things? How utterly splendid. Of course you may help the peasants in any way you want.”
“Peasants? No one has freed them?” J.T. asked sarcastically.
“Of course they are free. It is just an expression.” The king paused. “Lieutenant Montgomery, there is something I want to ask you. There was a General Brooks who reported directly to your president. His description of my granddaughter, of what he saw at your little house in Key West, was it correct?”
J.T. smiled and let himself remember that afternoon. He seemed able to hear the blaring radio. “Pin-curled hair, blue jeans, my shirt, radio blasting away, slapping hamburgers, and dancing?” he asked.
“Yes.” The king sounded incredulous. “I have never seen her like that. Her mother, my son’s wife, was very aware that Aria would someday be queen and she raised Aria to have no emotions, or at least never to display them. Tell me, have you ever seen her cry?”
“Only once.”
The king contemplated J.T. for a moment. “She allowed you to see that? I had no idea you were so close.”
“There’s two Arias. There’s Aria, my wife, who can be…” J.T. smiled. “Who can be all right. Then there’s Princess Aria, the little prig. That Aria I can’t stand, and with every minute in this country she becomes more like the bitch I met on the island.”
The king studied his wineglass. “Perhaps you could teach her to be less of a—what is that word? Prig.”
“Not me,” J.T. said, pushing back his chair. “I’m staying here to protect her and to help with this country. For my sake she can remain a prig. I’m safer that way. I’m not likely to get involved with her when she’s like that.”
“You worry about becoming involved with her?” the king asked quietly.
“Yeah, I do. It was hard enough saying good-bye to her once, and when I have to do it again, it’ll be worse.”
“Yes, I see,” the king said. “Of course you’ll have to say good-bye again. Your government should have researched our laws. No American commoner can be married legally to the queen. She would have to abdicate. Unless, of course, the people of Lanconia asked for you, which I doubt would happen.”
“She won’t abdicate, and even if she wanted to, I wouldn’t let her. And it’s good to hear I can’t be king but I wouldn’t accept the position if offered. Now, can somebody point me to a bedroom, or am I to spend the night in the dungeon with the other prisoners?”
The king nodded to Ned, who pulled a cord on the wall. Immediately, the door opened and the four guards entered.
“Take Lieutenant Montgomery to the red bedroom,” the king said.
When J.T. was gone, Ned spoke. “An insolent man. He isn’t worthy of touching Her Royal Highness’s gown.”
The king leaned back in his chair and smiled. “He is more than I hoped for. You’d better be nice to him, Ned, because if I have my way, that man is going to be the next king of Lanconia.” He laughed at Ned’s sputters.
Chapter Sixteen
NO, no, no, no!” Lady Werta screeched. “He is your seventh cousin and twenty-eighth in line for succession.”
Aria placed the side of her tongue between her back teeth, hoping the pain would remind her to be quiet. She had been awake all night in the goatherder’s cart and they had started her training lesson at six A.M. It was now four P.M. and she was past exhaustion. This morning she had been made to walk for hours. At first Aria had pretended to be a clumsy American trying to walk like a princess, but she was tired and she wanted to be allowed to sit down, so she started walking as she had walked when she was a crown princess.
It wasn’t good enough for Lady Werta. She said it wasn’t nearly right, that Princess Aria’s walk was much more royal and that this American was never going to be able to carry off the impersonation.
It was Aria’s first encounter with prejudice. From then on she didn’t try to be anyone but herself—yet, in Lady Werta’s eyes, she was a failure. The lady-in-waiting showed her photographs of people she had not seen since she was a child, quickly told her who they were, shuffled the cards, and expected Aria to have memorized them. And Lady Werta lectured her endlessly on the most trivial matters, such as how to get around the fact that she supposedly did not understand or speak Lanconian.
The Lord High Chamberlain came into the room at noon. “How does it go?” he asked in Lanconian.
“She is all right but she doesn’t have Princess Aria’s personality. I hand her a cup of tea and she says ‘thank you’! I think if I served her in a tin mug, she would say ‘thank you.’ No one will believe this person is Princess Aria. She is so nice.”
Aria was jolted by this information. Had she always been a pain in the neck to everyone?
She didn’t change her act for several hours but at tea break she was very tired and she let everyone know it.