The Chocolate Rose

THE CHOCOLATE ROSE

Prologue:

Now

Prince Arrik peered out of the Palace tower window, his breath misting on the thin plate glass. As far as the eye could see, and he could see a long way over the flat terrain from this high up in his lofty tower, the ground lay white in a thick layer of freshly-fallen snow. More thick soft white flakes gently floated down from a still leaden sky. His mother had forecast the snowstorm yesterday with a smile, knowing he missed the snow, ice and mountains, so he shouldn't have been surprised by it. She was so wise and he had yet to learn such wisdom.

Every morning lately when he arose, he was sad. Something was missing from his life.

He knew what it was, of course, but felt powerless to do anything about it. It all stemmed from that cursed Chocolate Rose. He first heard about it two months ago, he was curious about its existence, he followed it up and, within the space of a single day, his life had been completely turned upside down.

Before the chocolate rose episode Arrik's life was simple, ordered and safe. He could have been killed during the Chocolate Rose adventure and now he was virtually imprisoned, though not physically, but his heart felt constricted as if it was bound in heavy chains.

"In three months' time I will be crowned King Arrik, the most powerful man in my kingdom. But I am alone and friendless without the princess of my choosing to share my crown as Queen, powerless to change my constant unhappiness."

He spoke to himself, alone in his isolated chamber. He had been doing a lot of that lately, as well as sleeping alone. He felt the absence of his older cousin, once his best friend, more than he thought possible.

Every morning recently he had to fire himself up to face the day. He had so much to learn, and so many people, a whole nation, who depended on his being able to hold court, make fair and far reaching decisions that affected the wellbeing and happiness of all he ruled. It was a big responsibility and it was important to project confidence and a positive attitude.

Despite his misery, any cutting himself off from his family, advisers, subjects and appellants was simply not possible.

The only relief to his constant misery came unexpectedly last night when his other cousin, the young Princess Loquaria, to whom he had been engaged for over three years, threw herself into his arms, overcome with happiness and joy at his decision. Her actions surprised him, but made a welcome change. At least he had made one person happy and he could take some small pleasure in that.

Today there were no lessons, no hours of court sitting, no queues of advisers clamouring to press their point of view. The day was his to do with what he wanted. His mother the Queen was his teacher in matters of state now and, after she had forecast the first lowland snow of the winter, she had given him the day off.

"Right, Connie," he said out aloud to himself as he dressed, preparing to leave his modest lofty chamber, "you better have the bacon on!"

He laughed now, determined to pretend to the world that he was cheerful, as he gathered his skis, delivered from his old home only a week earlier. He remembered the last time that it snowed as thickly as this. In the mountains it was, at the hunting lodge that had been his refuge and home since he was six years old. He had left the mountains just two months ago.

How much had changed in a matter of weeks!

***

Chapter One:

Two months ago.

It was cold and the young man had his face pressed so close to the tiny thick glass window that his breath instantly froze on the surface and he had to use the sleeve of his night shirt to see out through the slightly greenish, imperfectly bubbly, glass.

"It's the first snow of the winter!" he said, more to himself than anyone else.

A groan from the second single bed in the small bedchamber meant that someone else was disturbed by his excitement.

"What are you up for, Rik?" the second voice, deep and gruff with sleep, said, "it's barely light and there's no school for you today. Your lucky tutor has departed to warmer climes for the winter."

"That makes it even better, Tom!" the first young man said as he jumped onto his friend's bed, "come on lazy bones, get up, wash, shave and dress, it's beautiful out there, it's been snowing all night!"

"Let me sleep, you monster, I hate the snow, I hate the cold, I hate it here in the mountains most of all!"

"Ha! Look, there are fresh tracks up the track up from the village, I bet the butcher's been and Connie's cooking our breakfast, because I swear I can smell bacon!"

"You can always smell bacon. I don't know where you put it all. You eat like a king but you are as thin as a beggar! It's not fair. I only need to smell bacon and I start bloating up like a pig."

"Fiddlesticks! You are as fit as any knight of the realm that I know."

"And just how many knights of the realm do you know, O mighty Prince Arrik, to be crowned king of this fair land in the spring, upon his 21st birthday, whilst still so wet behind his ears?" his friend mocked.

"Only you, cousin," Arrik admitted, running a hand through his long thick tousled blond hair, "but you are bigger than all the guards and half a hand taller than me."

"Well, I'm five years older. You're still growing, and you'll fill out more too, if any of that bacon ever sticks to your ribs. Damn it, Rik, now I can smell bacon, too!"

"Well, first one in the kitchen gets the better rashers!"

Prince Arrik first heard about the chocolate rose from Connie the cook, when he sat down in the kitchen at the mountain chalet. This ancient wooden building was no palace but an extended hunting lodge, which had been his only home since shortly after his father the King had died fifteen years earlier, when Arrik was a boy between five and six years old.

He had begun to gulp down his breakfast, of bread, bacon and eggs, as quickly as he could, keen to get out and enjoy the fresh fall of thick white snow. The snows had come early this year, even in the mountains it was considered so. Perhaps it foretold the coming of a hard winter. Arrik was eager to don his skis and set out into the fresh air and onto the slopes while the virgin snow was still crisp and fresh, perfect for sport and exercise.

The cook was in conversation with the butcher, who was warming himself in the kitchen after delivering fresh bacon and meat for the evening meal. He'd had to carry it up from the nearby village. He said that all the talk in the village, in fact the whole kingdom, was of nothing else but the miraculous chocolate rose.

Count Condran, Prince Arrik's uncle, the brother-in-law of the late king and father to his cousin Sir Tompty, had ruled the kingdom as Regent, following King Bygord's death in a chariot racing accident. Prince Arrik was expecting to be crowned in the spring on his 21st birthday. His mother, Queen Etherida, was remarried to the Count soon after being widowed, to "secure the throne", but she was almost immediately banished to the Castle on the Lake "for her safety".

The Count continually warned that the borders were under threat from the other four kingdoms, hence the difficulty of importing goods like chocolate. The Queen was forbidden to see her son as it was unsafe for both to be in the same place at the same time. Arrik had immediately been taken to the isolated hunting lodge, high in the mountains and difficult to get to by an army or even a solitary assassin. All the horses and carriages used by the ever changing guard were kept stabled far below the hunting lodge in the village.

The Queen and Prince had to be content with writing to each other. Arrik discovered from her that he was the first prince in his lineage to be taught to read and write.

The Count's first wife, Finnella, the King's sister, had died in childbirth just months before the King's fatal accident, the girl child apparently stillborn. The Count's eldest boy, Sir Tompty, a knight and prince in his own right, was five years older than the Prince and was Arrik's best friend and constant companion, as Captain of the Prince's guard. The Count's youngest child, Princess Loquaria, was now nearly 16 but had been promised to the Prince as his bride-to-be and future queen since she was twelve and would become his bride on her 16th birthday, just weeks prior to his enthronement. The Princess had lived with the Queen since her own mother died.

In this isolated mountain hunting lodge, where Arrik was kept "for his safety", he had only met his betrothed cousin once, brought to him at the time of the summer betrothal three-and-a-half years earlier. Arrik kept his low opinion of the shy, nervous maiden to himself.

His ears pricked up at the conversation he heard between Connie and the butcher.

"What is this talk of a chocolate rose, Connie?" the Prince asked of the cook. Even crown princes rarely had the treat of chocolate in these difficult times.

"It is so curious, Your Highness," Connie the cook replied, always conscious to address him correctly while in mixed company, "It's been the only subject of gossip down in the village for nigh on two weeks now. A chocolate rose flowered down in Newmarket town and it is said to be not just rose petals flavoured like chocolate, but really rich dark crunchy, melt-in-the-mouth, ohhh," she sighed, "chocolate."

"No!" Arrik laughed, "That's impossible, even at the Castle on the Lake, the warmest spot in the kingdom, all the roses have withered and died two months ago, Mother wrote about how sorry her garden looked at the time. And chocolate doesn't grown on rose bushes you know!"

"Well, everyone believes in the chocolate rose, Sire," piped up the butcher, bowing slightly, as he prepared to take his leave. "I must be off, it looks like more snow'll fall afore long."

"I suppose everyone wants to believe in some magical rose, made of chocolate." Arrik said quietly as if to himself. "I wonder what truth lies behind this weird tale?"

"What are you thinking, Rik?" asked Tompty, who overheard his friend's words.

Arrik said quietly to his cousin. "I'd like to find out more about this phenomenon, how could anyone confuse a flower with some object fashioned from chocolate?"

"It must be some kind of hoax. I will ask father if you can investigate. It is about time you stretched your royal wings and saw something of your kingdom other than this chilly corner leagues for anywhere."

"That would be great, Tom, but first, we must get our skis, we can't let all this snow go to waste!"

The cousins were relaxed in each other's company, as they were with the hunting lodge domestic staff, after all they had known them since they were both small boys.

Tompty was well aware how curious Arrik was about everything. Tompty couldn't read well, as befits a knight and prince, but Arrik had learned early from the tutors provided for the warmer six months of the year and he read everything that the lodge's tiny library had, plus any books that Tompty was able to smuggle in from the dusty Palace library near Newmarket town or the Castle in the Lake when he visited his sister and aunt.

The Count's express orders regarding Arrik's education were that he was not to be taught to ride, wear armour, or to handle a sword. He was never to put himself in harm's way, like his father had. He was to spend his school time in book learning, the arts and sciences, gentle pursuits in readiness for the throne. And Tompty knew how good Arrik was at book learning. Arrik was strong, too, being his father's son. Although he had not been taught how to ride, wield a sword or draw a bow, the boy could ski better than anyone, climb mountains as well as any goat and was a deadly game hunter, extremely accurate with a slingshot, the only weapon he was able to sneak past his Regent-appointed tutors.

Tompty laughed at the thought, his father the Count said nothing about the Prince using such toys, even if it was only to discourage birds from raiding the kitchen garden, or supplementing Connie's stockpot.

"Where do you two think you are going then, masters Tom and Rik?" Connie called out sharply, tapping her foot on the stone flags, as Tompty and Arrik headed for the kitchen door, "when there are goblets and bacon and egg pans to clean and put away where they belong?"

Connie had always made sure that the Prince learned that his extra treats and the privilege of being allowed to eat in the Lodge's warm kitchen, rather than the draughty dining hall, was a benefit he had to pay for, by doing some simple chores.

She smiled, as Arrik readily returned with his own handsome if sheepish grin before walking to the sink to wash up. Connie loved him even more for being the wonderful young man and worthy king that he was growing into. In the absence of both the boys' parents she had mothered the pair of them all these years as if they were her own brood.

"I must see to the setting of the guard," Tompty said hastily, by way of excuse, and ran out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

'Mmm,' Connie thought to herself, 'I'll let it ride this once, but that Sir Tompty won't get away with that little trick again.'

She turned to see Arrik juggling the huge heavy cast iron pan and a copper pot in the air under the vaulted kitchen ceiling, shaking water drips everywhere.

"Dent any of those pots, Master Prince, an' I'll tan your young hide, so I will!" Connie threatened, trying hard to suppress a smile.

"Don't worry, Connie, this is the best and most fun way of drying pots that I know!"

***

Chapter Two:

Investigation begins

Tompty had managed to pick up the rude basics of reading and writing, at least enough to cope with the official to and fro messages from his father, without the need of a scribe at the lodge.

A messenger was immediately despatched to the royal palace, informing his father that the Prince was curious about this chocolate rose that everyone was talking about and had expressed a keen interest in investigating the incident personally. Would the Count permit Arrik to travel to Newmarket town and question the gardener and any other witnesses regarding the appearance of this chocolate rose?

He added that he was prepared to escort him incognito, with the bare minimum guard, so as not to risk attracting any attention to the young Prince.

Tompty had long been of the opinion that the Prince was never really under threat by his own people and should have been allowed to live in the Palace with the Queen. Tompty remembered his aunt, the Queen, as a confident, a vivacious and loving woman, not the timid fearful recluse that his father the Count had made her out to be. He had only occasionally seen her in the last few years, visiting his sister and a certain lady in waiting that he was particularly attracted to, and the Queen appeared to be as unchanged as she ever was.

The Count considered Tompty's request regarding Arrik's interest when the communique was delivered. The chocolate rose was complete nonsense of course, he thought, a stupid hoax. He had personally supervised the questioning of the simpleton gardener. He couldn't understand the high levels of public interest in what was fast becoming of legendary proportions. Even the Grand Council, full of the oldest, most soft-minded barons he could possibly appoint to the position, were full of questions about the subject. Why not let Arrik waste his time and energies on this tomfoolery? What harm could it do?

It also, he thought, presented an opportunity that he had long been waiting for.

"Very well," he dictated to his clerk in writing back to his son Tompty, "let the boy loose on the subject if you must. The idiot gardener is still unwilling to answer questions, however, so is pointless to be seen by Arrik. The fool's daughter is still at large as we have no proof she knows anything, but she is of no consequence. Arrik must be accompanied by you at all times and, as you suggest, he must travel incognito. It is imperative for the safety of the country that no one discovers who he is while away from the protection of the Royal Chalet Guard."

He dismissed the fool clerk to write out the missive in his best handwriting. Then he turned to the Captain of the Palace Guard, the only other man present in the Count's day chamber.

"Dargo, I have a discrete little job for you. Gather three of your best men, ones who know how to keep their mouths shut. Once you have left the castle, change into clothing of the sort that desperate hooded highway robbers might wear. Oh, and make sure one of your men is the best archer we have."

So, it came to pass that the two friends set out on the whole day ride from the mountains to Newmarket town, which itself was less than a two-hour ride from the Count's abode at the Royal Palace. The Prince and Tompty travelled by coach, as Arrik was never allowed to ride on horseback, and were accompanied by two liveried coachmen.

Arriving early evening, they stayed in a Newmarket town inn overnight and called on the gardener's daughter in the morning.

***

Chapter Three:

Maid Elvira

The gardener's rose garden has been dug up and everything bagged and sent to the Palace for expert examination. So Arrik was unable to gather any information, despite checking over the barren ground for any clues.

When Arrik was introduced to the daughter of the gardener by Tompty, he was described as a foreign scientist, interested in investigating the phenomenon of the chocolate rose. Arrik was instantly struck by her stunning looks.

The maiden, about his own age, was tall, only an inch or two shorter than he, and slender, with long braided black hair and the darkest brown eyes he had ever seen. Like liquid pools of chocolate, he mused.

She was quite the most beautiful creature he had ever had the pleasure to meet, not that he had ever had much opportunity to meet young maids. At home, the daughters of the tradesmen often persuaded their fathers to take them up to where the handsome young prince lived. While some were pretty, none of them affected him as strongly as this maiden did.

"I am Doctor ... er Rik" he stumbled, trying to remember that he was supposed to hide his true identity from this beautiful young woman, "And you are Maid ...?

"Err-r-rick?" she asked in imitation of his clumsy introduction, clearly with a disarmingly amused smile playing on her face.

"No, just Rik," 'oh dear', he thought, 'This isn't going well', "and you are?"

"I am El, Doctor Rik," she answered, "just El."

"A very short name, Maid El, for one so tall," he smiled at the raven-haired creature, mesmerised by her eyes, which sparkled with lively intelligence, maintaining eye contact with him. She was erect, proud, confident and smart, unlike the shy unsophisticated village maids he was used to addressing, "may I be permitted to know your full name?"

"Maid Elvira-Coral Shacklefurthbury. I know, it is an awful mouthful of a name, which is why all my friends call me El."

"Then you are just the person I need to speak to, about the chocolate rose-"

"Oh, no, I am saying no more about the chocolate rose, I've been questioned up hill and down dale on that subject. I am heartily sick of it and I have nothing more to add. Please ask my father, who is being asked questions on that very subject even now, by the Count's authority."

"I can't," Arrik admitted, "He is still in the Count's dungeon."

"And you clearly have no access to him, even though you are here supposedly as a foreign expert in such matters?"

"I am here in ... an unofficial capacity."

"Merely to satisfy your curiosity ... Doctor Rik?"

"Something like that," he admitted.

"Yes, I thought there was something rather strange about you. For a foreign professor, you speak my language extraordinarily well, a little too well, I think, sort of ... well, a bit plummy, if you ask me."

"Well, my mother was originally from around here, or perhaps a little more to the south, and you should realise that foreigners practising another tongue always try to speak it more exactly than a native would."

"So, as a native of your own distant land, how would you say, 'Good morning, El', in your native tongue?"

"Er, 'croresny patchek, El, payn'."

"Mmm, why the 'payn' at the end?"

The Prince-cum-Doctor smiled and cheerfully lied for his amusement, "It is a mark of respect, specifically reserved for maidens of school age or similarly immature."

"Really? Well, not only have I left school, I am a teacher at the local elementary school, so I am not sure that 'payn' is still an appropriate term to use."

"Then, El, if I may be allowed to call you as your friends do, I will refrain from what you find an offending epithet." Arrik added, "Is it usual for the daughter of a gardener to be a school teacher?"

"My father is not just a gardener," El replied testily, "but the Mayor of Newmarket town, I suppose the Count found it much easier to throw a gardener into his dungeon than a town mayor!"

"I wasn't aware of that," admitted a thoughtful prince.

Arrik turned to Tompty, "We must speak to this gardener, or rather the Mayor, Tom."

"But, my fa-"

"Your ... the Count ... gave permission for me to investigate the existence or otherwise of this supposed chocolate flower, if we need to question him then I insist-"

"All right, all right!" grinned Tompty, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "I give up, to the Palace dungeons we go."

"I would also like to come with you to see my father," Elvira said, quietly and then more forcibly, "he has been gone for over a week now without any word as to his wellbeing. May I accompany you, Doctor Rik?"

"Of course," Arrik readily agreed.

The thought of sharing a coach with this beautiful young maid for a couple of hours was an agreeable notion, except that Tompty was also with them. Arrik was well aware that his older cousin had casually flirted with or courted a succession of village maids, while he was shy with those few that had hesitatingly tried to become familiar with him.

Elvira, to his regret, only seemed to find Arrik amusing rather than attracted to him. She started on him in the coach before they had even left the town and climbed the long steep hill out of the valley along the Palace road.

"Your coachmen seem armed with the same swords issued to the palace guard, Doctor, as does your man here, who carries himself more like a knight than any ordinary manservant of a learned investigator. I noticed the weapons and the two types of military men when my father was arrested last week."

"I dare say such weapons are a common issue, available to all who wish to purchase arms of the common sort."

"Possibly, but the crests you have painted on the coach doors have been covered by sheets of parchment decorated in a plain and rather crudely painted coat of arms that I've not seen before. Did you, by any chance, paint them yourself?" She had an amused smile on her beautiful face.

"No," Arrik lied, but unavoidably turned red under her gaze as he did so, unaccustomed as he was in telling a lie, "now why would you think that?"

"Because in the sunlight the parchment becomes transparent and the Royal Coat of Arms underneath is quite unmistakeable."

Arrik thought about it for only a second, before holding out his hand to the clever and beautiful young woman.

"Maid Elvira-Coral Shacklefurthbury, it is my pleasure to properly make your acquaintance. I am Prince Arrik and this companion knight is my cousin and best friend, Sir Tompty, the Captain of my personal guard, two of whom are pretending to be coachmen."

Elvira smiled and shook the hand of each man in turn.

***

Chapter Four:

Ambush!

The dungeon, where the gardener was chained to the wall, was a depressing place to be. Although not seriously injured or tortured, he was dirty and bruised where he had been soundly beaten. The dungeon keeper was ordered by Tompty to unchain him immediately and to fetch hot water and towels. Elvira had brought a change of clothing for her father.

"Mayor Shacklefurthbury, it is a pleasure to meet you," The Prince introduced himself after Elvira had embraced her father, "I am Prince Arrik, my companion here is my cousin, Sir Tompty. We will leave your daughter for a few moments while we wait outside until you are ready to receive us, Sir."

The newcomers left Elvira to help her father wash and change before Elvira called Arrik back inside the dungeon cell.

As Arrick spoke to the Mayor, he was impressed by his dignity, even though the man still did not admit to the existence or otherwise of the chocolate rose bush, answering all questions with another question. His daughter had nothing to say on the subject but was tearful at the treatment of her father and his continuing discomfort.

Tompty was quiet, but from the appearance of his face, he was clearly unhappy how the mayor of the most important town in the kingdom has been beaten and imprisoned without trial and in the absence of just cause. Imprisoned and beaten over a chocolate rose? Tompty thought that this didn't make sense. He was reluctant to approach his father, until he was sure Arrik and his two new acquaintances were free of this cell. He persuaded the dungeon guard that his father had finished with questioning the gardener and they would take him home and send for a doctor to treat his injuries, to make him warm and comfortable for his recovery. He departed with the dungeon keeper to fill out the parchmentwork.

The gardener/mayor admitted to Arrik when they were alone, "Sire, there has been no preparation for the coronation of you, as our King, due in less than six months. And all mayors throughout the kingdom have received official but so far secret notification from the Count that the Regency would continue to rule for the foreseeable future. The Count added that he should be addressed as His Majesty in future, not His Excellency. There was no mention of the Prince's coronation in any correspondence at all. It is as if, like the chocolate rose, you as prince a future king only exist on the lips of the people."

Arrik pursed his own lips. He had started out investigating the chocolate rose, a mystery that seemed of little consequence to his future, just a bit of fun, a diversion from his normal restricted existence. The fate of the crown, though, was another matter, a development that hitherto he had no reason to imagine anything different to his expectations.

The Mayor continued, "You should be aware, Your Highness, that neither Queen nor Prince has been mentioned by name in any communique since the first one announcing the Regency, shortly after your father the old King died. Many people had begun to believe that our Queen and Prince also died at the same time."

Tompty returned during the last conversation and declared that he was not aware of this apparent policy by his father. He sat quietly in thought before speaking.

"Rik, I know nothing of this. If there was any threat to you, I have always been on and by your side. I swore an oath as Knight that I always will stand by you as Prince and King, to the death if necessary. And I would without any oath protect you with everything within my power as my cousin, my 'brother', my friend. My father does seem intent on continuing his Regency indefinitely or until he can perhaps declare himself king."

"For the Count to become king," the Mayor said, "he would have to rewrite the law, as no baron can be king, only a prince, like you Sir Tompty as son of a princess and Prince Arrik heir to a king."

"I am a soldier, not a king, Sir," Tompty declared to the Mayor. "I only serve the king as my master. Rik is an excellent scholar, bright and keen to learn. Rik has been kept away from court and his mother, and has had little training in how to rule. But I am sure he will catch up. He was born to be a king. However, in his isolation, he has had no opportunity to gather allies to his cause. His training has also meant that he is ill-equipped to take the throne back by military means."

Tompty looked upset by the delivery of his own words and thoughts. The treachery of his father, the Prince's uncle, was a reflection on him, his sister, on his whole family.

"The Prince has the will of the common people," Elvira said firmly. Her father nodded in agreement.

Through the dungeon keeper, after the Prince left, the information that the Prince had been in the Palace, and acting in defiance of the Count, whipped though the castle as quickly as the rumours of the chocolate rose had, and spread further out into the countryside.

Apparently, like the chocolate rose, the people discussed whether the Prince actually existed, as the Count hasn't mentioned him since the old king died. Also they had long understood that the Queen had continued in mourning and shut herself off from the people. They began to question this impression too.

As the Prince's coach rode back to Elvira's house at the foot of the hill on the edge of the town, the Mayor revealed to the Prince that the chocolate rose never actually existed, it was a rallying cry for the people against the oppressive rule of the Count and his swingeing import costs, as hardly anyone had tasted real chocolate in years.

All the mayors throughout the Kingdom had been warned to have the local militia on standby as an important proclamation was to be made by the Count in the spring and they were warned that there may be trouble. The senior mayors, chief among them the Mayor of Newmarket town, met in secret. All agreed that it looked like the Count was planning to crown himself king. Without saying it, the mayors all knew what the fate of the true Prince and Queen would be when the Regent took the throne

This is what prompted the Mayor to come up with the concept of the magical appearance of the chocolate rose. The rose was likened to the Prince, whose appearance to solve the ills of the kingdom was wished by the people. The fact that the Prince was also lured out of hiding and now appeared free of the Count's clutches was a bonus.

"I've not been hiding-" began Arrik, before realisation dawned on him. "Oh, I suppose I have been, or at least been hidden from view. And by being out of mind I have been forgotten, which was my uncle's plan."

"Not totally forgotten, Your Highness," Elvira said, "just relegated to legend, nursery stories, nursery rhymes and the like."

"Please call me 'Rik', El, when we are with my friends, except when we're in formal company." He smiled at the maiden, who smiled warmly back at him. Arrik thought they had shared a moment there that made an impression on them both.

"Whoa!"

They heard the yell from the coachman and the coach skidded swiftly to a halt.

Arrick and Tompty were out of the doors, right and left respectively, before the coach had stopped rocking on its springs. There, standing in the road ahead of them, was a heavily-set man dressed as a highway robber holding onto the lead horse, two mounted men behind brandishing swords and a fourth ruffian standing on an elevated slope to the left side, armed with a nocked and drawn bow and arrow aimed at the Prince.

They all wore hoods drawn over their heads, disguising their faces.

Tompty drew his sword, Arrick was unarmed, other than his sling, into the end of which he placed several stones from a pouch attached to his belt. He imagined that if he got close enough to a villain he could use it as a cosh. Arrik was on the opposite side of the coach from Tompty. He heard the door creak as Elvira descended the steps behind him. Arrick allowed the weighted end of his sling to drop down ready for swinging as he crept up alongside the coach horses, while Tompty drew their attention away from Arrik's right hand side, by shouting at their attackers.

"What do you mean by this hold-up on the King's road?" Tompty sternly demanded of the four men.

The bowman pointed his arrow at the bold young knight, dressed in common citizen clothing.

"Drop yer weapon an' stand aside, young knight," yelled the large man holding onto the coach horses, "and ye'll come to no 'arm, we on'y needs a few pennies to buy ale an' bread at the inn. 'Tis a 'ard winter for them what's out o' work."

"Well, I have some pennies for you," Tompty threw a handful of tiny silver coins from his pocket onto the road, "Now be off with you fellows before I lose my temper."

"Best I don't lose mine, young sir or ye'll be leaking scarlet from an arrow wound. Mind my words now, you drop yer weapon!"

Arrick was almost alongside the speaking man, whose field of vision was affected by the hood he wore. Arrick swung the heavy sling and cracked it against the hooded skull of the robber. The man fell sprawled across the road, his hood falling away as he fell.

"Dargo!" cried Tompty, recognising the captain of his father's personal guard.

The leading coach horses reared up at the sudden movement by Arrik and the robber falling at their feet. The horses of the two mounted robbers reared up in like fashion and the raiders had to hang on or their mounts might have bolted and thrown their riders. The coach horses were held in place by the brakes of the coach, the rains of the coachman driver and the other two horses blocking the road in front of them.

Tompty moved towards Dargo but stopped as an arrow hit him in the middle of his chest. After standing stock still for a moment he fell backwards onto the ground.

Arrik was not aware of this development and was already running to the nearest horseman and rapped the horse on the rump, causing it to bolt. The second horseman lifted his sword above his head in preparation to strike the impudent youth, but Arrik was able to strike his horse with his sling too, and the robber was nearly thrown as his mount leapt away while his unbalanced rider tried to regain control.

The archer had nocked another arrow onto his bow and loosed it off at Arrik. The Prince was sure that he was done for, he saw it coming straight for him and he had no time to get out of the way, but the arrow somehow veered off line and whizzed past his left shoulder. Arrik swung his weighted sling and this time released the four stones contained within, three of which hit the archer in the face, the fourth lodging into his throat. The archer was stone dead before he even hit the ground.

Arrik loaded his sling with a single pebble to follow the two mounted robbers, and stepped round to Tompty's side of the coach. Only now did he see his stricken cousin on the floor. He looked up and saw one of the robbers was trying to control his mount and turn back to face his quarry.

Arrik fired his stone, which hit the robber full square on the side of his head, so that he fell off his mount to the floor. The other man saw the day was lost and that he was on his own. He dropped his sword, urging his mount to flee and made only two or three steps before a shot hit him on the back of his head and rattled his brain until he was unconscious. He slumped over the pommel and the horse carried its senseless rider off into the distance, presumably back to its home stable.

By the time Arrik turned his attention back to his best friend, Elvira was already kneeling by his side, had withdrawn the arrow and was pressing her hands on his chest to stem the flow of blood, which seeped between her long pale fingers, and with her soft voice encouraged Tompty to breathe again.

Fearing the worst, with tears in his eyes, Arrik knelt on the other side of his friend. Surely, no-one could survive such a wound. Picking up the arrow he noticed that the metal tip was unbarbed, presumably so that it could be removed easily by the archer without leaving evidence behind which might lead to the identity of the murderer.

"How's Tom?" he asked of the young teacher, her hands covered in blood, still pressing down on Tompty's chest. Suddenly, the young knight coughed, opened his eyes and let out an enormous breath. Slowly, he breathed in again, trying to sit up.

"Lay back, Tom," Elvira insisted, "please take it easy. You have a serious wound. Can we have a blanket here, please?" she called.

The two coachman had not been idle since the threat disappeared. One of them was tying up the lead robber, already identified by Tompty as 'Dargo', while the other coachman fetched a couple of the blankets that had been wrapped around the legs of the driver, and handed them to Elvira. Then he ran off with a luggage strap to tie up the other fallen bandit thirty paces down the road.

"That was a shot from the archer Birtley, the best bowman in the land," said the first coachman, "Sir Tompty's lucky he weren't killed outright, and as for you, Sire, I dunno how he coulda missed you completely from such a range. It is said that Birtley never misses!"

The coachman pulled the parchment off the coach doors, proudly revealing the royal coat of arms. "No need to hide who we is now, Sire!" he said with pride.

Elvira finished tucking one blanket round the wounded knight, then folded the other and pressed it against his wound to stem the flow of his life force.

Arrik leaned over and patted his cousin on the shoulder comfortingly. He turned to the maid whose prompt action had given Tompty a chance to live.

"Thank you, El," he said to her, "I think you have saved his life."

"He has a long way to go before he makes a full recovery, Rik, that is a bad wound," she whispered to Arrik so Tompty couldn't hear, her plump red lips brushing the tiny hairs on his ear, "We need to get him to the hospital in Newmarket town to clean and bind his wound properly as soon as we can."

***

Chapter Five:

Taken

By the time the news travelled around the town that there was an assassination attempt on the Prince, by no other than the Count himself, Newmarket town was in complete uproar and the Prince was requested to attend a meeting of the townsfolk in the main square. The Mayor put the two men who held up the coach in the stocks. Under questioning, in front of all the town, Dargo and his accomplice admitted the Count had ordered the murder of the Prince. They hadn't intended harming the Count's son.

There was amazement too, as the body of Birtley the Bowman was displayed, the archer who never missed, slain in self defence by the boy who all declared should be King.

While the townsfolk assembled in the town square, the Count's palace guard rode in and attacked the largely unarmed crowd. This turned out to be a diversionary tactic. The Count himself, with a small band of soldiers, burst into the hospital and dragged his recovering son out on a stretcher to a waiting coach, to take him back to the Palace.

Maid Elvira, who was still nursing him, insisted that he should not be moved, so the Count in his fury took the meddling maiden along with him, blaming her for this ridiculous chocolate rose rising which was at the root of this public rebellion.

Back in the square, Arrik quickly used his sling to fell a couple of attacking horsemen before a single townsman could be harmed. The attackers, sure that they would face no armed opposition, were suddenly robbed of the initiative and they beat a hasty retreat back to the Palace from whence they came.

Arrik then discovered that the hospital had been attacked, his injured friend and the maid who both nursed his cousin's punctured heart and Arrik was sure possessed the Prince's heart, had been taken.

He gathered the townsfolk and men from the surrounding villages, who were arriving with any weapon that they had managed to get their hands on. He drove them on to march to the Palace. Arrik dispatched another group of riders, possibly considered too old to fight, to the Castle on the Lake, to free the Queen and bring her to the Palace in due course.

The Mayor had a fast, light two-wheeled cart, which he harnessed up and drove Arrik towards the Palace. On the way Arrik met with servants who were fleeing the Palace.

"Fellow citizens, do you know anything of my wounded cousin Prince Tompty and the fair maid who was caring for him?"

"Aye," said one woman, dressed as a cook, "the Count's son's in the Castle Infirmary and very poorly, Sire, we doubt he'll survive the night, his wound's turned bad and there be no nurse to care for him. As for the maid what was with him, she's been thrown into the room at the top of the tower. It will be more difficult to get to her than even the dungeons. She ... she's to be burned as a witch at first light, they say, Sire."

Arrik wished he had been taught to ride. The roads appeared to be choked with armed men going one way and unarmed women and servants going the other. It was taking all afternoon to get there.

The men marched on the fortified Palace to lay siege. On every crossroad they meet with more common folk coming from every corner of the kingdom, by horse or by cart or by foot. All with one cry, "Down with the Count and long live the Prince".

When the first of Arrik's supporters reached the Palace, they were met with a fusillade of arrows, which the people collected and passed onto the few archers brought with them, so that they could be fired back when they were ready to attack. Their leaders met with Arrik when he arrived with the Mayor, to find out what they must do.

Arrik noticed that the tower had only one window at the very top, and there are no arrows being fired from the tower. In the gathering twilight, he could see the flicker of torchlight, or possibly a fireplace in the top-most room. The wall was sheer, but for a strong, experienced and determined mountain climber like Arrik, there were handholds to be found between the stones.

"Anyone got a rope?" he cried to the host around him. Arrik wondered if he could get up there with a rope and have others follow him, an armed band to breach the thick defensive walls.

Someone, a carter, offered him a coil of strong rope from his wagon. Arrik measured it roughly by the span of his arms and reckoned it a couple of spans short. The carter had more rope, though lighter and of lesser thickness, and expertly tied it onto the end of the first rope for Arrik's use. Now he had several spans spare.

The rope is heavy, but Arrik is strong. However, he tied one end of the lighter rope around his waist, leaving the rest on the ground, so he would not bear the whole weight of the rope until nearing the end of his climb. The men around him became excited and started up a cheer. He hushed them, lest they warn the guards of his plans and asked them to move well away and make more noise elsewhere to distract the guards. Some laugh, a few slapped him on the back and wished him well, but they all moved off to provide the distraction. The light was beginning to fade, it would be dark soon and the moon not likely to rise for some hours.

He started to climb, using a buttress to begin with. At the top of the buttress, the tower was near vertical. He found plenty of handholds in the masonry. About halfway up, some of the stone used was poorer quality than the lower blocks and some crumbled away in his hand and he almost fell. He steadied himself, as his foothold from his soft leather boots remained secure. It was almost completely dark by then.

He didn't want to look down as the torch lights from the castle besiegers would affect his night vision.

He moved right until he felt more solid stone under his fingertips, at a place where there was more shelter from the weather, although there was some lichen growing here. He grinned, climbing the mountains back home, he was used to moss and lichen on the stone and his confidence grew once more and he continued his climb steadily and surely.

He was unarmed except for a small knife, his trusty sling and a pouch full of selected pebbles.

Eventually Arrik reached the window sill. He peered in. He saw Elvira lying on a straw palliase. Her eyes were closed, so he thought she was asleep. As he squeezed through the narrow window, she started, instantly alert.

"Arrik? How?"

"Shh, El. I am here to rescue you."

"The door is locked and double bolted on the other side, there is no way out through there."

He would have to change his plans, there was no way he could bring a force of men up here, they would be trapped.

"Fine, I've brought rope enough to carry you down from here."

She was tethered to the bed post by a leather thong around her wrist, which he cut. She struck a flint and lit a candle, to amplify the light from the dying embers in the fireplace.

"I must get to Tompty," she insists, "I am worried for him, he may not survive his being moved for long, without me to care for him."

Of course she needed to go to his cousin. Arrik realised that this beautiful maiden, who had made such an impression on him, had naturally her heart set on the better man. Tompty was not only Arrik's best friend, he was taller, much more handsome with his dark hair and stronger build.

A bookworm prince was no match for a dashing knight, injured in brave and righteous battle. Arrik could not hold any grudge against his dear cousin, who was prepared to die for him, in defiance of his powerful father. Arrik could never deny the happiness of the two people he felt he loved most, he just couldn't.

"He is in the infirmary next to the kitchen." Arrik said. "The cooks fleeing the palace said as much, and Tom is in danger as his wound has opened up and gone bad, with nurse to care for him."

Elvira looked out of the window, and gasped, seeing the rope trailing down to the ground.

"I can't believe that you climbed all the way up here on your own."

"Well, I had to rescue you, and I need you to save Tom."

"The kitchen is down there, round to our right. The infirmary is the extension on the end. Can you get us down there from here?"

"No problem, I'll cut off a piece of this lighter rope and tie us together round our waists. You'll have to put your arms around my neck and hold on tight, although if you do slip, the rope should hold you."

He cut off the rope a length equivalent to a span of his arms, which he draped over his shoulders for a moment. He tied the other end of the long rope to Elvira's solid wooden cot, which was bracketed to the wall. He tested it for strength, it didn't move. Then he pulled Elvira to him, looped and tied the spare rope around them. She raised her arms and held them around his neck. They were so close that Arrik could almost taste her sweet breath on his tongue. Arrik had to force himself to breathe normally.

"You know what they are saying, Rik," she looked into his eyes, "they wanted to burn me in the morning ... as a witch."

"I know, El, I heard as such on my way here and I couldn't bear to let that happen to you."

"I think it is true, though, my mother was a witch. She was killed by the Count when he took over the kingdom. He murdered all the witches, he was proud to declare by decree as much. I was only a child at the time."

She continued in a whisper, "You know that the people believe that the Count murdered your father, too, it being no convenient accident. He separated you and the Queen. He wants to rule the kingdom and he will kill you if you get in his way."

"Not if I kill him first, El." Arrik grinned defiantly, "Reading between the lines, El, I think my uncle killed his wife and child first, to leave himself free to marry my mother once he'd murdered my father. He has a lot to answer for."

"First we must save poor Tom's life."

"Yes, we'll go to him now."

They squeezed out through the window. Arrik leaned back with his feet on the wall and the rope wrapped around his back taking the strain. Naturally, El being tied to her rescuer, she was pressed tightly against him. She could see the ground over his shoulder at first, so she buried her head in his chest, Arrik was almost intoxicated by the smell of her hair. He drove himself on, "walking" along the wall to his left, playing out the rope gradually as he descended onto the roof of the kitchen.

Using his knife, he cut his way through the thatch and stuck his head inside, the kitchen was lit by several torches, while the cooking fire blazed away merrily. It was empty of people, no doubt either already run away or were defending the walls of the Palace against the besieging mob. There was still plenty of rope, so they descended from the pierced roof to the tiled floor, with Elvira still hanging onto his neck. Once grounded, Arrik let go of the rope and severed the threads tied around their waists.

They ran together through the door of the kitchen into the infirmary. There were no nurses in attendance, nor were there any wounded yet. Clearly the besiegers and defenders were still sword rattling and hadn't yet commenced battle.

Poor Tompty lay in a rude cot, naked, covered only by a thin blanket, a huge dressing on his chest, spotted with blood as the wound had opened up again. He was pale as parchment and his breathing shallow and laboured. Elvira laid her hands on his chest and immediately his breathing improved. He opened his eyes.

"Water?" Tompty croaked.

"I'll get some," Arrik offered. He had seen a pitcher in the kitchen as they walked through. He had been tempted to take a drink after his climbing but his anxiety for his cousin had taken priority.

He first poured and drained half a goblet of water to slake his thirst, then he topped it up again to take through to the infirmary.

Suddenly the kitchen door on the other side of the room was thrown open. Standing in the doorway, sword in hand, was his Uncle the Count, behind him two men at arms, who hadn't drawn their weapons yet. They must've noticed Elvira missing and the rope leading down from the tower window to the kitchen roof, Arrik speculated.

Arrik hadn't seen his Uncle for over three years but was easily recognisable, even though he was stouter, his hair thin and grey. But what stood out were his eyes, he looked mad with fury and hate.

"Arrik, boy, you are proving to be a pesky bug that needs squashing!" the Count snarled, "I gather the rabble of farmers and tradesmen outside baying for my blood is all your doing?"

"Yes, Uncle, and they will be your undoing."

"You young pup! You'll pay for this uprising with your life!"

The Count raced across the kitchen, sword held aloft to chop down his meddlesome nephew. Arrik looked around, behind him was the open cooking fire and, leaning against the stonework, was a long iron spit, just a little longer than the ones he used to clean in his chores back home at the chalet. He had played with such things in the warm kitchen for hours during long winter days, ever since he was a small boy. Grasping the spit, and balancing the iron object, it felt comfortable in his hands.

It was a little heavier than he was used to, but he was able to parry the Count's chopping sword with a clash of steel against wrought iron.

Arrik tilted the iron rod and guided the sword under its own impetus down to the ground, swinging the other end of the skewer until its heavy weight connected against the right shoulder of the Count, causing him to drop the sword with a ringing clatter on the floor tiles.

The Count staggered back, holding his stinging shoulder.

He cursed his nephew loudly and called his men forward to chop him into mincemeat.

The pair of soldiers drew their swords and approached this young stranger with rather more caution than their furious master had.

One circled around to Arrik's right, the other spread to his left, with the Count standing in the middle, having drawn his dagger, his discarded sword being well within the reach of Arrik's iron rod, which he held horizontally with his arms held out comfortably in line with the width of his shoulders.

The assailants were wheeling their swords around their wrists, biding the right time to strike in concert.

When the one on Arrik's left had the tip of his sword pointing away from Arrik, the Prince feinted to jab at the man on his right before thrusting the sharp point of the iron spit at the left swordsman's wrist, sending his sword crashing to the ground, before Arrik swung the point round to smack him hard under the chin. He could hear bone and teeth crack under the weight of the blow.

Then Arrik twisted to face the right swordsman, who had advanced to take advantage of the successful move against his companion. But Arrik only had to lift the other end in a small arc to jab the oncomer in the stomach with the blunter end of the bar. The man fell back, winded, rubbing his fresh bruise.

The first man, angry now and with blood streaming from his ruined mouth, picked up his sword and rushed at Arrik screaming, the sword held above his head. Arrik dropped the blunt end against the stone step in front of the fire behind him and swung the pointed end at his attacker and held on tight, as the man ran straight into the dense iron bar, which stabbed him right through the chest.

The Count saw an opportunity and rushed the now disarmed Arrik with his dagger poised. Arrik grabbed a copper pan resting by the side of the oven and parried the stab of the knife, spinning around with the pan at full stretch, gathering momentum, and caught the Count with a glancing blow on his left shoulder. The Count fell to the ground, sprawling at the feet of Elvira, who had come to the door of the infirmary to see what the noise of the battle was about.

The Count scrambled to his feet and ran away out of the door he had entered and along an open-air crenelated passageway connecting the kitchen to the base of the tower. His surviving man at arms arose and limped after him rubbing his stomach. The man with the iron spit through the chest lay twitching in his death throes.

Arrik poured a fresh goblet of water and carried it through to Tompty, who was now sitting up, wondering what had just taken place. The last time he was conscious he was in Newmarket town hospital.

"Tom, your father has gone mad and is trying to kill me," Arrik declared, "he has already had two attempts on my life himself, and it looks like he had ordered his captain and archer to kill us both back on the road. He also planned to burn El as though she was a witch at the stake at dawn."

"I know he's mad, Rik, I've been lying in a daze thinking. He must've killed my mother and baby sister first in his bid for power, to leave himself free to marry your mother. I can never forgive him for that, or for trying to kill you or El. Help me up and I'll-"

"No, you will not help!" Elvira was firm. "You nearly died today, if we don't get you to the hospital for treatment and rest, you might open your wound again!"

"Hold firm old friend, there will be other battles for you to come," Arrik said, "we'll leave here now, before the Count can regroup and have another go at us."

Arrik checked the outer door to the infirmary, it was locked and bolted shut from the outside. The only way out was back through the kitchen and across the outside passageway that the Count just ran away through. Arrik knew they couldn't get out through the tower. In the kitchen he worked out how much rope he could use. He whispered to Elvira.

"We can lower Tom down the curtain wall by rope from the passageway, then you slide down to take care of him, and I will follow."

They dragged Tompty through the kitchen to the passageway. Soon after they emerged, however, the door into the hall at the base of the tower opened and the Count and a host of soldiers followed behind him, many of them carrying torches, the night has fully descended by now and it was pitch black outside.

Arrik pulled out his sling, loaded it with a pebble and fired it at the advancing Count, who was now wearing a plumed helm on his head. The Count had never seen a sling used as a weapon before and he sneered as the Prince swung it in his hand, but as soon as the projectile headed towards his face with the speed of an arrow, his jaw dropped in shock and he barely moved before the stone accurately hit him square between the eyes in the slot in his helmet. The Count collapsed to his right as his legs gave way and stumbled between the crenellations in the fortifications, they were much lower on the inner side than the outer side.

Arrik's second stone, despatched immediately after the first, hit his uncle in the chest and he fell through the gap, desperately grabbing at the tunic of the man at arms next to him but he dropped through and disappeared from view. The soldier was also pulled towards the battlements, but he put out both hands on the wall to save himself, dropping his torch in the process, which followed the Count over the wall.

All his men stopped stock still as they heard a bloodcurdling cry of agony from the disappeared Count.

Elvira was closest to the wall and she peered over. Although the distance to the ground was less than the height of three men, the Count had fallen on the central stake that he had planned to tie Elvira to at first light. The stake was surrounded by stacked cordons of wood, soaked in old cooking oil, ready to be lit to destroy the maiden he accused of witchcraft. The torch landed on the cordons in a shower of sparks and the whole lot went up in flames, the Count screamed and continued to scream in agony as the greedy oil-fed flames completely engulfed him.

A couple of bold soldiers recovered their wits and stepped forward, swords drawn, but were struck down, maimed but alive and groaning, by the lightning strikes of Arrik's deadly sling. The remaining soldiers were perplexed and leaderless. They did not know what to do.

"Hold men," wheezed Tompty, leaning heavily on Elvira's shoulders, "You know me, men, I am Sir Tompty, the son of the Count, I have trained with or served with most of you before. Some of you have served on rotation at the royal mountain lodge, you and you and you, you know the Prince. Put down your arms, there is nothing to fight for now other than maintain the rightful rule of law. This noble young fellow here is the rightful heir to the throne. The Count tried to kill us to claim the Kingdom for himself. Bow down to His Highness Prince Arrik, soon to be our next King."

The men looked at each other and, as a man, threw their arms down. And kneeled at the Prince's feet.

Arrik called out to them, "Get into the courtyard, men, put out those flames, the Count must survive and stand trial for his many crimes against the Kingdom."

"Aye, Sire!" they cried in unison, turned as one and ran down to save what they could. The bonfire below had already become too fierce and too hot to even peer over the battlements any more.

The three companions made their slow progress down to the courtyard. Someone had already opened the main gates, in order to fetch buckets of water from the moat. The Palace guard held the farmers and tradesmen at bay although news that the battle was over and the Prince victorious spread through them all like wildfire.

Elvira's father, as leader of the rebels, was allowed through to find out how his daughter fared. Arrik and rebels helped with buckets too, and the fire was soon extinguished, but it was too late to save the Count from his horrific injuries, the flesh baked on his smoking bones.

***

Chapter Six:

Now, again

Prince Arrik peered out of the Palace tower window. He had adopted Elvira's former lofty prison as his personal bedchamber, with new bed and fittings which had been carried up the circular staircase.

As far as the eye could see the ground around the Palace lay white with snow. Soft white flakes still fell from a leaden sky.

"In three months' time I will be crowned king, the most powerful man in the Kingdom. But I am alone, friendless and with no princess to share my crown." He spoke sadly to himself.

Today there were no lessons, no court, nor crowd of advisers clamouring for attention. The day was his to do with what he wanted, however solitary his activities might be.

"Right, Connie," he said, "you better have the bacon on!"

He laughed, remembering the last time it snowed, when he lived in the mountains just two months since. How much had changed in so few short weeks.

Connie was happily cooking up a storm in the huge Palace kitchen, with serving maids rushing back and forth, each laden with jugs of wine, ale, platters and covered trays of breakfast food to ferry to the main dining hall. She smiled as Arrik came through the door and plonked himself down at the kitchen table, where the servants would have their breakfast, once all the Palace family, staff and guests had eaten of their fill. She would tolerate Arrik in the kitchen while he was still a prince, but when he was King, she might have to ask him to eat in the hall with the others, at least most of the time.

Tompty didn't come into the kitchen very often any more since he mended from his wound; Connie heard from gossip that he was more interested in visiting one lady in particular. As Arrik was adjusting to his permanent role, so was Tompty settling down at last. She felt sad that for some strange reason there appeared to be a growing distance between her two former charges.

"I knew you'd be chasing me for your usual pile of bacon and eggs, Rik, before venturing out into the snow," Connie observed with a warm smile, "you should be pleased and excited by the change of weather, but I see you look more like you've swallowed a wasp!"

"It's not like the mountains around here, Connie, it's so flat and boring," Arrik replied morosely.

Into a trencher Connie piled up bacon from a huge tray already prepared and popped on top a couple of the fried eggs that had been bubbling away on a skillet over the fire and placed the steaming trencher in front of her favourite Prince.

"Here, eat up Rik and then get out of my kitchen," she said, feigning displeasure, disarming her words with her usual loving smile on her rosy face. "And no more washing up chores for you, my prince, since I've got all the help I need since moving here, thank you."

"All right," he replied, cheering up a little with the smell of the bacon, "but if you are ever short handed...."

His mother walked into the kitchen as Arrik was halfway through eating his breakfast. Connie and the four or five cooking staff present all curtsied the Queen. They were not accustomed to seeing her in the kitchen. She clearly knew where she would find her only son though. She sat herself onto the bench seat opposite where he stood in deference to his mother, and motioned him to sit back down after kissing her on the cheek.

"I thought you were wonderful dealing with Princess Loquaria last night, sweetheart. You set out so gently but firmly in telling her that you were breaking off your engagement with her. I was so proud of the way you handled that delicate matter."

"Well, Mother, then she completely shocked me by being so pleased about her release from our betrothal. How was I to know she has been madly in love with some pimply lakeside farmer for the last couple of years? Nobody tells me anything! I've never been kissed so any times in one go before in the name of joyful gratitude."

"Well, I thought it was a touching and beautiful moment, my dear," smiled the queen

Connie brought over some buttered toast for the Queen and, while there, she squeezed her favourite prince on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you too, Your Highness." Connie said, before she walked back to her cooking pots.

"So that's why you've come into the kitchen, Mother, to embarrass me in front of Connie?"

"No, of course not, Rikky, dear, I love how regally you are handling yourself, honourable and noble as a king should be, as well as relaxed and charming with the staff you know and love. Your people will love you just as deeply as they get to know you, too. I only want to be sure that you, the man within and behind the royal mask of duty, is a happy man, too," she said, "I think you are ready to take over your duties as King any time you want to. No need to wait for the coronation to take up your responsibilities."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. That will mean I can proceed with my own projects, as I settle into my new role as King's Mother. I am setting up my own coven again, having tracked down the daughters of my old Pre-Regency coven. I want to be ready to do good magic while you become the good King I expect you to be."

"So it is true, you really are a witch?" he smiled at his mother.

"I was always a witch, Rikky, I left my coven when I married your father. I am looking forward to casting good spells again." She paused before continuing, "I do like that maiden, Elvira, you know, and wonder why she doesn't come over much any more."

"Well, she stayed here for a whole week," he replied.

"In the very room you have now moved into, where you wallow in your sad solitude."

"Yes, you are right as usual. As for El, she only came back once or twice a week to see Tom while he was recovering. Now I suppose she only sees him at the Lake."

"So you didn't see her when she came to the palace?"

"I haven't seen her since that first dawn after the Count.... you know I don't see Tom now either, since he went to the Castle on the Lake to rest and recuperate a couple of weeks ago, so I suppose once they get married I'll hardly ever see them at all."

"Tompty and Elvira won't marry each other, Rikky. He's quite friendly with one of my ladies in waiting, he's been seriously courting Lady Tenly for the last couple of years. He would pop down to the Lake every chance he could and that is why he is staying down there now, helping her pack up the last of my books and gowns. Elvira didn't follow him down there, dear, she is at home with her father. I hear she has gone back to teaching in her local school."

"What!? Tom's seeing someone else as well as Elvira, playing with both their affections?"

"No, I'm sure he isn't. Anyway, I know for a fact that Elvira doesn't love Tompty, at least not in that way. I know who she is in love with and who should give her a chance to secure the happiness that she deserves."

"I know I shouldn't ask this, Mother, just who is it that Elvira-Coral is in love with?"

"You, of course, Rikky, dear. When I speak to her, and I have a lot recently, all she ever speaks about is you."

"Me? But we have hardly ever been together since that one and only day we met and were in each other's company."

"Ah, the day when you boldly released her tortured father from a dungeon, then rescued her by climbing the tallest tower in the land, protected her from your uncle, saved her from being burned as a witch, while she in turn saved your best friend Tompty. That day ..." Queen Etherida pointed out with her handsome smile, "that she saved your life, too."

"Saved my life?"

"Surely you've heard all the talk of how the archer Birtley, the finest bowman in the land, missed your heart at point blank range? He missed even hitting you at all. I remember when he was once your father's best archer and he had practiced constantly ever since. Everyone in the Kingdom, but you, my dear, knows that Elvira saved you from certain death on that day."

"But ... how?"

"Elvira's mother was a witch, in fact her mother Coral-Enn was a member of my old coven. Elvira has inherited her healing powers and I am sure she was also able to deflect the arrow directed at your heart. She saved your life, my son, and you've hardly ever spoken to her since. I hope you don't break her heart, and you will if you don't love her in return."

"But it hurt me too much seeing her, believing she loved another, my cousin. And she is a commoner. The law says a king must marry a princess."

"What the law actually says, dear, is that only a princess can become queen, but a prince can marry whoever he chooses, whoever he loves. Better by far someone he loves and loves him back. When I married your father, Bygord was a prince and I was a witch. I gave up my coven to became a princess and later queen. Ultimately that sacrifice saved my life, if I had still been a witch I would have been murdered by Count Condron, along with all my coven sisters."

"So, if Elvira loves me, as you think she does, I would be free to marry her?"

"Yes, if you love her."

"I do love her, Mother, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well, you better get a move on, if we are going to fit in a wedding ceremony before the coronation."

"I could go there now!"

"What, in all this snow? It is too deep for a coach and you are not a good enough horseman yet."

"You are right, Mother, I'll never make it by horse, or by coach."

***

Chapter Seven

Chocolate Roses

Elvira heard first the ringing town bell and then the town crier announce that there would be no school today, because of the snow.

She was already dressed in her warmest cloak, ready to make the short walk to the school house. She thought she would go outside anyway as there were a number of frail people who would be unable to get out and about because of the snow and be welcome of a friendly visit. Her father was already at work in the Town Hall, preparing for the coronation in the high church hall as soon as winter ended.

The thought of the coronation, that everyone in the land eagerly looked forward to with pleasure, only made her sad.

"I will serve the children of this town in any way I can, like my father has served the people all his life," she said to her mirror as she finished tying up her braids to fit under her hood, "I will never marry. I could never marry a man unable to match the one who holds my heart. I will serve my king, even if he's forgotten I ever existed."

He was an amazing young man, she thought, yes, tall and handsome with the bluest eyes she had ever seen, but so warm and gentle, straight and decisive. Rik was a born leader, ordering his older, more experienced cousin to free her father, then taking charge of the rebellion, even directing the guard to try and save his dying uncle. He was brave as any knight too, taking on and incapacitating four armed assassins with nothing but a square of cloth and a few stones. Then climbing that tower to rescue her, tackling more soldiers including his uncle and besting them all. El would not have believed it possible unless she saw what Rik did with her own eyes. Now he was learning how to be king, a wonderful and wise king, her king.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, squared her shoulders and ventured out onto the snow-covered footpath in front of her house.

The snow to the sides of the street was only about three inches deep, due to the overhang on the houses, but the centre of the street was over a foot thick in places. It was hard, powdery snow that looked as though it would be around for a while, with large soft flakes falling gently on top. She could clearly see on the surrounding hills how thick the snow lay, with many of the stone walls around the fields covered by drifts, the highways completely impassable by horse or oxen.

The snows were early this year, she thought. Already, school children were out playing, making snowmen and a stray snowball whizzed close by her, followed by a high-pitched apology. Parents were outside with their little ones, too, so it was looking like a holiday, with no school or little work for anyone today.

The town crier rang his bell again and started a brand-new news item.

"Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah! Latest news! Latest news! Check your gardens as chocolate roses are appearing in gardens everywhere. There is said to be one chocolate rose for every man, woman and child in the land, 'tis said. Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah!"

Elvira looked around her, people were emerging from their front doors, each one carrying a chocolate rose. Parents with several children had a matching number of chocolate roses, enough for everyone in the land, apparently what the town crier announced was coming true.

She turned and ran through her house to her back yard. There, in an otherwise empty patch of snow-covered earth, two chocolate roses stood quivering on thin chocolate stems, proud and clear of the snow.

She, of all people, knew that the chocolate rose was only an idea, it was never real. That Chocolate Rose that everyone spoke about months before never existed except in people's minds. It was an idea her father dreamed up with the other mayors to start a rebellion against the Count and the Regency.

Magic, she thought, it can only be magic, of a power and sense of sweet humanity that was a miracle in itself.

As she reached out for one of the two roses, her rose, another chocolate stem grew out of the ground right in front of her eyes. It soon reached the height of the others, with a tiny bud on top that expanded as it grew up until the bud blossomed into a perfect chocolate rose.

A few soft flakes of snow settled on the glistening blooms in frosty decoration.

Three roses? There was only her father and herself living in this house.

Why would they have three?

Imperfect magic, perhaps?

In a daze she plucked two of the delicate stems and carried the roses through to the front street.

Everyone was pointing up the hill, along the Kings road towards the Palace. There had been no traffic on the high road all morning, other than pedestrians around the houses. The snow was too deep and slippery on that steep hill for any horse or cart to manage.

But there at the top of the hill, after an impossible journey, and now rushing down the virgin slope on skis towards her, was the Prince for whom that extra magical rose in her garden must be intended.

Her heart soared knowing that there could be only one reason why Arrik had come here. He had come for her. That's why the magic of the chocolate roses appeared just at this moment.

Arrik was her Prince, soon to be King, her Rik, who would love her forever and ever.

The end.