trouble in Svardovia 2

 

Chapter 2

 

Sophie awoke, confused, at the rattle of curtains and the drawing back of some of the filmy white curtains around the bed. Magda stood there with a teapot and a cup. Her cheek was red.

“Baron Slabynyski said you would have milky coffee like her highness, but I said, you are English, and used to tea. He was not pleased, but have I, please, the right thing done, because there is nobody to see.”

“Oh, Magda! Did that nasty little man hit you? I am so sorry. Yes, I like tea in the morning, but I must go in search of the lavatory first.”

“Oh! You have an ensuite,” said Magda. “Through that door. It is not too primitive. Shall I draw you a bath?”

“I will enjoy the luxury of tea in bed for once, before bathing,” said Sophie. “What is the princess’s custom for breakfast? Does she send out?”

“Oh, we have our own food in these carriages,” said Magda. “In the servants’ carriage right at the end, and it will be prepared and brought to you. What would you like?”

“Bratkartoffeln, with eggs and bacon, please,” said Sophie. “And then pain au chocolat, or a roll with honey or jam, I’m not particular.”

Magda sniggered.

“Her highness will not touch so hearty a breakfast, so the servants who do not know will be surprised,” she said. “She usually has a peach and a piece of thinly-cut lightly toasted bread with a little butter.”

“I wouldn’t mind that as well,” said Sophie, tentatively.

Magda laughed.

“I will see to it,” she said. “I will tell them the rest of the breakfast is for a mysterious lover.”

“Goodness! Won’t they look at me askance if they think me such a scarlet woman?” asked Sophie.

“The princess has many lovers,” said Magda. “Oh! She left you a gift; it is a musical box, it is to identify you, and she said you should carry it with you always. But it is also a recording device, and if you have any trouble from Krasnytyan separatists, you should start the recording, to use in court.”

“I see,” said Sophie.

She enjoyed her tea, and then bathed, and was faced with a huge wardrobe of clothing, which was larger than the sleeping carriage designed for six sleepers.

“I will wear bloomers, I think,” she said to Magda. “They always look such comfortable garb, and I may never get another chance.”

Magda giggled.

“Our bloomers are based on Cossack trousers, and are worn with an embroidered knee-length tunic with small slits at the side and wide sash. Our princess wears such things when she is being very much the patriot.”

“Then, I will be a patriot of Svardovia,” said Sophie. “And while I am eating breakfast, I would like to speak to Baron Slabynyski.”

“Yes, highness,” said Magda, curtseying. “As I must call you, now.”

“Oh, well, in private, you can call me ‘Sophie,’” said Sophie. “There is a lot of room in these garments.”

“Miss is slimmer than the princess,” said Magda, with what Sophie thought an almost vicious sense of satisfaction.

“You do not like the princess?” asked Sophie.

“She is as sweet as honey when things go her way,” said Magda.

“Oh.” Sophie knew that meant that she took things out on Magda when things did not go the princess’s way.

She went into the opulent sitting room, where a dining-table had been unfolded ingeniously from somewhere, with a white linen-work cloth over it, and real silverware. A pot of coffee and a teapot sat on the table, and covered dishes on chafing dishes. The baron was already there, and rose to bow.

“I customarily take breakfast with her highness for her to give me the day’s orders,” said he.

“Good.  I wish to take issue with you hitting Magda, for her kindness to me in guessing that I would prefer tea first thing, not coffee.”

He frowned.

“She is a servant; she is used to rebukes.”

“Nevertheless, whilst she is my servant, I do not expect her to receive any blows for doing her best,” said Sophie. “Do I make myself clear?”

“My dear young woman, I merely wanted to make sure there was no discrepancy to be seen, like this remarkable breakfast  you have called for….”

“And who are the servants in the cooking car supposed to be able to tell?” asked Sophie. “Magda told them I was entertaining a lover, and seemed to think this credible.”

“It is,” said Slabynyski, grudgingly.

“Good. Then I will eat the sort of hearty breakfast I am used to,” said Sophie, trying not to look scornfully on his piece of thin toast and half a grapefruit.

“You will do well to remember that I am here as your tutor in the princess’s manner, and to do as you are told,” said Slabynyski.

“Oh? Well, it is a shame to waste breakfast, I can change back into my normal clothes and go back to my cabin once I have eaten,” said Sophie.

“You can’t do that! You agreed!”

“I agreed to be the princess,” said Sophie.

“I will prevent you from leaving,” said Slabynyski.

“I am supposed to be photographed at stations,” said Sophie. “What a story if I cry to the journalists for aid after you laid lewd hands on me.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Do you really want to try me?” asked Sophie.

“I hope the separatists do try something, and you get kidnapped,” cried Slabynyski.

“Ah. Now we get to the real reason the princess wanted a double,” said Sophie, tucking in to her breakfast. The baron looked at her healthy appetite with a look of horror that anyone might eat bacon, sausage, and fried egg so early.

“The princess did not think you would accept the real reason with equanimity,” said the baron.

“She was wrong,” said Sophie.

He regarded her balefully. Sophie made sure to smother her toast with plenty of butter and a thick layer of honey.

He fled.

Sophie giggled.

 

After breakfast, Sophie asked Magda if she would mind helping her to wear some of the princess’s beautiful clothes, and a morning passed happily enough. Sophie chose an evening gown in green and flame, embroidered with tiger-lilies for the evening, and dined with the baron, who watched, aggrieved, as she took the size of portion a growing girl needs.

“Why, what is this dish?” she asked, tasting it. The baron was smirking, unpleasantly.

“It is called ‘Goulash,’ and it is one of our national dishes,” he said. “What, is it too spicy for you?”

“Not at all,” said Sophie. “It is really nice; has a decent bite to it. I like the spicy foods of India, too, and Morocco. I am a diplomat’s daughter, after all, so I have travelled widely.”

She had to smother a laugh at the fury on the baron’s face; plainly he had hoped to make her choke on the spicy dish.

“I look forward to Svardovian food, I think,” said Sophie. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“No,” said the baron, shortly. “Good grief, girl, isn’t your appetite affected at all by fear of what the Krasnytsyans might do?”

“No,” said Sophie. “Should I?”

He gave a mirthless laugh.

“Prince Dmitriy loathes our princess cordially, and is likely to be rough.  Of course, you can reveal who you really are, but it may take a while for him to accept your story.  I am looking forward to the thought of you in his hands.”

“You know, calling you the louse fed on dried blood is almost too insulting to a louse fed on dried blood,” said Sophie, amicably. “Pass the potatoes, please.”

“You are a pert chit!” snarled the baron. “I hope he flogs you!”

“You have some very exotic wishes,” said Sophie. “Perhaps it is you he wants, not me, to see if you have any blood at all. Aren’t the Krasnytsyans supposed to be barbarians?”

“They are!” he almost whispered.

“You’re afraid,” said Sophie. “You are almost quivering in terror.”

“So would you be, if you had any sense,” said Slabynyski.  “But you have served your purpose, and will continue to do so; there are no more places before the capital where you might be expected to wave to your adoring public, so I can keep you here, and make you go through with it. My princess is safe, and I don’t care what happens to you.”

Sophie laughed.

“And the princess does not care what happens to you,” she said. “Otherwise, you would have had some excuse to leave manufactured for you. But you are as sacrificial as I am.”

“She loves me! I am only here to make sure they think you are Victorina! They will take or kill you, and I will join my princess!”

“You’re deluding nobody but yourself, you know,” said Sophie. “She despises you; I saw it on her face.”

“You lie!” he went to slap her, and Sophie threw the rest of the goulash in his face.

He cried out, trying to clear the spicy food from his suddenly painful eyes.  Sophie finished eating, and retired to her bedroom.

She had let herself be taken in, just because the person who had fooled her was a princess. Well, she had agreed to be the princess, and she would be so, until she knew more about the situation of the politics.

And she would keep a handbag on her at all times, with her little gun, and that musical box recorder… if it was a recorder at all, and not something more sinister.

Well, she would just have to wait and see, and enjoy being a princess in the meantime, playing with the other woman’s clothes and jewellery, and learning about Svardovia as well, something Magda was willing to impart.

“Magda,” said Sophie, “I am going to write to my Papa. It is very important. Can you get it in the post for me?”

Magda blushed.

“We have been forbidden to let you write… but you are kind, and they have more or less kidnapped you.  I will see that it goes in the train’s bag tonight.”

“You are so good, Magda! When this is over, would you like to stay with me? It is not as prestigious, and I doubt I can pay you as well.”

“I would like that,” said Magda. “And I will pay myself with the sum of money she set aside to bribe you, if you would not do it willingly; and she laughed, and said that she would easily charm a schoolgirl, who would do it for her beauty.”

“I did it because I felt sorry for her, always hounded by the press,” said Sophie.

“Of course you did, lady!” said Magda. “I don’t think she understands fellow feeling. I think you should read this draft of a letter she has written to her father, the king.”

The relevant passage ran,

“And it does not matter what happens to this English schoolgirl, whom Dmitry will likely have killed, assuming her to be me, because when it comes out who she is, which I will publish, England will let us have liftium to crush Dmitry and his separatists for ever, and we shall execute every last one.”

Sophie shuddered.

“Thank you, Magda; I needed to know,” she said. “Well, I will play on, to save my own life, and we will see what happens. Will she miss the draft or the money?”

“No, Miss Sophie, she is too careless,” said Magda. She provided writing materials for Sophie, who wrote,

“Dearest Papa,

Please do not worry Mama, but I find myself in a bit of a pickle, because I was taken in by someone of exalted rank. I will never trust princesses and princes again.  I saw the Princess Victorina of Svardia, and she saw me, and asked me to take her place. I have discovered from the Louse, whose nickname is an insult to all Lice, that it is because an attack on the train by Krasnytsyan separatists is expected; and I want you to know that their claims may be just, since I have determined personally that Princess Victorina is a cold and callous woman who is very good at projecting herself to the press, but in private, she hits her maids and is spiteful. Her tame louse is a vile little man; and such represent Svardia. I am including the draft of a letter that Magda has given me, my temporary maid, who is going to smuggle this out, as I am not allowed to communicate and am essentially a prisoner of the Svardian royal court, which shows what sort of people they are. Pray for me, please! I will have to pretend for now but perhaps I can tell Prince Dmitry who I really am.

 

Sophie.”

 

Sophie was quite tired of being a princess by the third day, but she wore the costume of loose trousers and tunic again, her hair in a plait, which she suffered Magda to put up with pins.

“I don’t suppose I would have been any less bored in my own cabin,” she said, to Magda. “I wish I had brought a novel to read on the train.”

“Oh! There are novels,” said Magda. “Often left by sundry people travelling with the royal carriages.” She opened a hidden bookshelf, and Sophie hesitated before choosing a speculative fiction novel by the celebrated Jules Verne, so many of whose speculations preceded scientific discovery.  She picked ‘To Jupiter’s moons,’ about a flight to that huge, mysterious planet and its satellites. It kept her happily occupied until she was startled out of her reveries when the train came to a sudden, unanticipated halt.

“Seperatists!” gasped Magda.

“They will not hurt you,” said Sophie. “And I will pretend for as long as possible to protect the princess.”

She looked out of the window, and saw the most extraordinary flying machine, a boat with wings and sails, as it swept over the ridge of the cutting in which the train had come to a stop.  It manoeuvred with a consummate skill which made Sophie murmur in appreciation, as it landed on top of the broad carriage. She took up the beaded bag she had chosen, which had a shoulder strap from which to hang it, and reviewed its contents again. The musical box, her pistol and ammunition, clean linen for bandages, a box of matches in a tin, a candle, an emergency sewing kit for running repairs, and her manicure kit.  It was extraordinary what you could do with a manicure kit. Quickly, she went into her ensuite and relieved herself, so she might be ready for anything with equanimity.

And then a hatch in the ceiling opened, and quite the most beautiful young man Sophie had ever seen dropped down in front of her.