Ardennia: The Unlikely Story of Cinderella's Prince
Chapter 7

The Cover Up

The Count was talking to a rapidly recovering King Charles in the King’s tent when the messenger brought him the news of his daughter’s disappearance. He immediately set off for the Ardennian royal castle with only two of his retainers – who just happened to be having a secret affair that would have thoroughly scandalized the Count. He was in such a rush that he left those lovebird retainers in his dust, arriving at the castle alone and with a winded horse. The Queen met him at the gatehouse, having been alerted to his approach.

“Come with me to the council chambers and I will tell you what’s going on,” she told him.

“You had better!” he barked.

They were joined by Lord Phillip in the chambers and the Count, after giving him short shrift, demanded that the Queen tell him everything exactly as it had happened.

“I don’t know everything that happened. But I will tell you what I do know,” she said.

“Then do so,” he said, angrily throwing down his mailed gloves on the chambers’ table.

“Three nights ago, late in the evening your buffoon and your daughter rode off on two of our palfreys. They took her jewelry and my jewelry with them.”

“I don’t care about your jewelry.”

“The next morning we discovered that they and the jewelry were missing and I sent Friar Bede and the Captain of the guard after them,” she said.

“So the buffoon kidnapped my Lenore and robbed the jewelry to boot,” surmised the Count.

“No, your daughter went with the buffoon willingly,” corrected Queen Bernadette.

“Don’t be silly. Why would she do that?”

“Because she loves him,” explained the Queen.

“I don’t believe it. She loved his antics, but she could never have loved him; he’s just a buffoon.”

“To you and me, but apparently not to Lenore.”

“Did she tell you that or is that just your woman’s intuition?” asked the Count derogatorily.

“Neither,” said the Queen.

“Well tell me how you know.”

The Queen looked at Lord Phillip. He shook his head emphatically and mouthed the word ‘no’.

“Is it important how I know?” she asked.

“Are you going to give me the run-around or are you going to tell me,” he said, pounding the table with his fist.

“I know because I read the letter your daughter left for you. Here it is,” she said, taking the letter from a drawer and handing it to him.

The Count grabbed the letter and began reading. It read:

Dear Papa,

By the time you read this Ethan and I will be long gone to parts unknown. This may come as a shock to you, but it is better not to mince words. I do love you, but I love Ethan more and when Queen Bernadette bribed him to leave me I had no choice but to take the bull by the horns and abscond with him.

With fondness,

Your loving daughter

P.S. Take care of Castor for me as best you can.

The Count’s countenance grew dark; his eyes blazed with fury, the veins in his neck bulged. He looked like a volcano about to erupt.

“Who do you think you are bribing the buffoon to leave my daughter?” he asked in a voice so ominous that the Queen feared for her life right then and there.

“She’s a queen who thought your buffoon was a bad influence on Lenore, and as it happens she was right,” answered Lord Phillip firmly.

“Hold your tongue you hunchback,” the Count lashed out at him.

“Count, I must ask you to cool down. I know this is a terrible moment for you but losing your temper won’t help anything,” said the Queen, gathering up her courage.

“I’ll lose my temper whenever I want!”

“Not in my castle,” said the Queen.

“It won’t be your castle for long, you meddling shrew,” said the Count, springing forward and grabbing the Queen by her neck. As he began to strangle her Lord Phillip pounced upon him like a tiger. The two men went flying to the floor, rolled over twice and ended up with Phillip on top.

“Stop it! Stop it!” the Queen shouted.

They wouldn’t. As Phillip raised a fist to knock the Count senseless the Count took out his dagger and stabbed him in his ribs. Phillip ignored the pain, pulled out his own dagger and drove it into the Count’s chest. The Count let off an awful groan. At this point the Count’s two retainers, escorted by a garrison guard, entered the chambers.

“What is this!” shouted Guildenstern, one of the retainers.

“Your liege attacked the Queen and he paid for it with his life,” said Lord Phillip.

The other retainer knelt down next to the Count, examined him and nodded his head.

“This will not go down well in Lorraine,” said Rosencrantz, the second retainer.

“It will mean war,” said Guildenstern.

“Not if I can help it,” said the Queen. “Guard, seize these men and throw them in the dungeon.”

The guard seized Rosencrantz while Guildenstern fled. But Guildenstern did not get far, and he ended up in the dungeon with Rosencrantz. The Count was discretely deposited in the cemetery in an unmarked grave.

Two days later King Charles and his victorious army returned to the castle royal. Again, they paraded past the village crowds and again Cinderella and Henry locked eyes. Once the King was settled in his bed so he could fully convalesce, the Queen told the King and Henry what had transpired.

“You did right as always,” said the King.

“I know. But it doesn’t seem fair to keep the Count’s retainers in the dungeon.”

“They are doing just fine. I chained them in the big cell so they could be together,” said Lord Phillip.

“You locked them in a cell and chained them,” said the Queen.

“That’s standard procedure,” said Lord Phillip.

“But it seems so cruel. They must be suffering greatly,” said the Queen.

“Better they suffer than war breaks out between our two realms,” said Henry.

“Which will certainly happen now, if word gets out we have made them prisoners and buried the Count in an unmarked grave,” said King Charles.

“Verily, we are committed now,” said the Queen.

“But to what? Annexing Lorraine?” asked Lord Phillip.

“I am not in favor of that. It would almost feel like we killed the Count so we could confiscate his lands,” said the Queen.

“But we didn’t. I didn’t; it was self-defense,” Lord Phillip said, patting his side where his wound was healing up quite nicely.

“I still don’t like the idea of annexation,” said the Queen.

“Neither do I; annexation, war or whatever you want to call it, is never very predictable,” said the King.

“Which brings us back to what we are committed to doing,” said Henry.

“Finding Ethan and Lenore for starters,” said the Queen.

“Do you think Friar Bede will succeed in doing that?” asked the King.

“I don’t know,” answered the Queen: “But on the subject of the friar I sent couriers via Ligny and Saux to deliver a message conveying news – but not too much news – about the Count’s death. That information might come in handy if he does track down Ethan and Lenore.”

“Good and good again; good that you sent the couriers and good you sent them to Ligny and Saux since the only roads Friar Bede could have taken east go through those two towns,” said the King.

“Exactly,” said the Queen

“What other matters of state do we have to discuss?” asked the King.

“I delivered our silver bullion to the mint in Ligny. All appears to be going well there,” said Lord Phillip.

“And I have dispersed the army so our vassals can return to their estates in time for the wheat harvest,” said Henry.

“And I have, in your name, licensed two more villages to become market towns,” said the Queen.

“Good, is there anything else?” asked the King.

“One thing,” said the Queen.

“What?” the King asked.

“I have been mulling over my failures as a matchmaker and come up with an idea for finding a suitable wife for Henry that would –”

“Mother, in view of recent events I think finding me a wife should be put on hold,” said Henry.

“Hear me out; my idea is to hold a masquerade ball and invite the eligible daughters of all the nobles in Picardy and Comte. Any of these young ladies would tie us to one of those realms, and during the ball Henry could ascertain if any was to his liking.”

“And I to theirs,” qualified Henry.

“Of course,” said the Queen.

“That sounds intriguing,” said the King.

“Yes, an alliance with a noble family in Picardy or Comte would be of some advantage,” said Lord Phillip.

“I agree; I think that would be the second best thing after being allied with Lorraine,” said the King.

“Then I can put the wheels in motion?” asked the Queen.

“As far as I am concerned, yes,” said Henry without much enthusiasm.

“Actually, it sounds like fun. I haven’t attended a masquerade ball in ages,” said Lord Phillip.

“I shall give it the okay as long as trouble doesn’t flare up with Lorraine in the meantime,” the King said.

“Wonderful; I will set the date for one month from now and start sending out invitations by courier,” said the Queen.

Henry left the conclave feeling ambivalent about the masquerade ball. It was decent of his mother to give him some latitude in choosing a wife, but being engaged to Lenore had left him wary of dynastic matches. Ah, if his life was less complicated and he could simply meet a nice girl without having to think about how a marriage with her would impact the kingdom; a girl who could catch his imagination for love’s sake alone; a girl like the one in the village who had transfixed him with her eyes. He decided to go for a stroll in the village just to indulge this fantasy and maybe even talk to the beauty. He picked up Guy – who was chit-chatting with a guard at the gatehouse – along the way.

“Are you sure you want to walk all the way down the escarpment?” asked Guy as they set out.

“I’m sure; after our long ride back from Paris I’m ready to stretch my legs,” answered Henry.

“And such fine young legs they are. But mine are more brittle, and although going down the hill will be easy, coming back up will not. But that’s the way of it; life has its ups and downs and everything equals out in the end.”

“If you’re not up to it you don’t have to come with me,” Henry said.

“One more pun like that, and I won’t.”

They wound their way down the hill very casually, greeting those people they met who were going in the opposite direction with nods or a wave of the hand. Among these people was a cobbler returning the mended boots of a soldier. Guy knew the owner of the boots and told Henry that the owner, a soldier, had webbed toes and would charge people a denier to see them.

“I’d pay a denier to see that myself,” said Henry.

“Prince, that kind of entertainment is beneath your station,” Guy of Lucent said.

“Not today; today I am going to be just like everybody else.”

“You may not find that as attractive as you think. ‘Everybody else’ has to labor or connive to get by, and must take their lumps as they come along,” said Guy.

“But they don’t have to marry Counts’ daughters or ride into battle against the Burgundians. If I ever have to do that again it will be too soon.”

“Sire, from all reports you acquitted yourself splendidly on the battlefield; have you not developed just a little taste for it?

“No, I haven’t,” said Henry.

They continued their way down the hill until they reached the bottom and entered the village; whereupon they made for the center of it, where market day was in full swing. Henry looked around to get a glimpse of the girl he had locked eyes with while Guy received an apple from a vendor for whom he’d done a favor.

“What was the favor you did for the apple vendor?” asked Henry, who had overheard part of the exchange between the two.

“Oh, it was nothing,” said Guy.

“Don’t be modest, tell me.”

“It was a thing anyone would do under the circumstances.”

“As your Crown Prince, I command you to tell me,” ordered Henry.

“If you’re going to play that card, here it is; I pulled his little boy out of the path of a runaway horse,” Guy said.

“Humph, I guess that merits an apple or two or three.”

Guy responded to this by taking a bite of his apple and pointing out Lady Tremaine and her two daughters, who were inspecting some fashionable hats.

“Who are they?” asked Henry.

“A family of middle class standing that is. . .”

“That is what?”

“Is under the protection of your uncle,” answered Guy.

“What does that mean?”

“You haven’t heard about your uncle’s arrangement with Lady Tremaine?”

“No.” answered Henry.

“Then it is not for me to elaborate upon it.”

“If that is your stance, why did you point her out to me?”

“Because I sometimes leap before I look,” answered Guy.

“Fine, my uncle’s business is his own, I guess.”

“That is well said, my Prince. Would you like a strawberry tart?”

“Why, have you done a favor for the baker as well?” asked Henry.

“As a matter of fact I have,” Guy answered.

“May I ask what that favor was?”

“I lent him a few deniers to help him with his daughter’s dowry,” Guy answered.

“That was good of you.”

“We people of the lower strata have to be good to each other to get by,” explained Guy.

“You’re not from the lower strata.”

“But I was once; and that never leaves you, what about that tart?”

Henry said ‘yes’ and the two left the market, food in hand, and ambulated down the main street; Henry still hoping to see the girl with whom he had locked eyes. Guy grew suspicious.

“You’re not looking for that head-turner are you?” he asked Henry.

“Head-turner?”

“The Maiden who turned your head when we went riding off to Paris.”

“No, why would I be?” Henry asked.

“Why indeed?”

“Tell me what you know about Picardy,” said Henry to change the subject.

“Well, as you must know, it shares a border with us to the northwest.”

“Go on,” said Henry.

“It’s a small fry, as realms go, that I suspect will someday be gobbled up by France. It is ruled over by a marquis who is owed allegiance by the viscounts of six regions: Boulogne, Montreuil, Ponthieu, Amiénois, Vermandois, and Laonnois. The River Somme flows to the sea through it, and there are some beautiful bluffs on the coastline.”

“Are the women couth in those parts?” asked Henry.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because Mother is throwing a masquerade ball next month.”

“For you to meet some young ladies from Picardy,” surmised Guy.

“And Comte,” added Henry.

“Zounds, your mother isn’t wasting any time getting you back on the marriage block,” expressed Guy.

“No she isn’t; so are the Picardian ladies couth?”

“Who am I to say?”

“Tell me about Comte then,” said Prince Henry.

“It shares a border with us to our southeast and is also a small fry consisting of a federation of barons and baronets. But the countryside is largely uncultivated and even desolate in some places. Bears roam the forests, pixies haunt the night and bandits plague the roads. One travels there at one’s own risk.

“So I would imagine the daughters of the nobility of Comte are uncouth,” said Henry.

“Not necessarily.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I had a dalliance with a young damsel from Comte in my long-past youth; she was all sunshine and moonbeams. Oh yes, she brings back some good memories. What I wouldn’t give to be your age again.”

They came to the western outskirts of the village and retraced their steps to the market. Lady Tremaine and her two daughters ran into them. The older daughter, Drizella, curtsied when she recognized the Prince.

“Your Highness,” she said in conjunction with the curtsy.

Her sister, Anastasia, who had some very impressive buck teeth, and Lady Tremaine followed Drizella’s lead and also curtsied.

“Ladies,” said Henry, bowing his head slightly.

“It’s such a pleasure to see our Prince amongst us,” ventured Lady Tremaine.

“The pleasure is all mine; good day,” said Henry.

“Good day, your Highness,” all three of the women said in unison.

Henry continued on, not looking rearward but feeling the eyes of Tremaine and her daughters zeroed in on his back. After putting some distance between themselves and the trio, Guy made some remark about how Anastasia and Drizella did not look at all like their mother, and must have inherited their problematic looks from their father.”

“I think you are right about that,” said Henry, disappointed he had encountered ugliness when he had set out to encounter beauty.

With that thought in his mind and the faithful Guy at his side, Henry returned to the castle. The walk up, as Guy had predicted, was harder than the walk down.

Meanwhile, about one hundred leagues to the east Lenore was in the bushes relieving herself of solid waste while Ethan waited on the road with the palfreys. Squatting indelicately, she had just finished when she heard some scuffling and a strange voice ask: “Where is your traveling companion?”

“I have none,” answered Ethan.

“Do you take me for a fool?” said the man brusquely.

“I’m the one with a dagger at my throat so I’m the fool,” Ethan said.

“And you will be a dead fool if you don’t start cooperating,” said the thief.

“I’ll do whatever you say,” Ethan said.

“Call your friend in,” demanded the thief.

“If there be anyone out there, please show yourself. You won’t be harmed.”

“Nice touch, the ‘you won’t be harmed’ part,” complimented the thief.

Lenore didn’t respond. She just stood up and moved a leaf out of her way so she could see what was going on. It wasn’t good. A thief did have the point of a dagger pressing against Ethan’s jugular. There was an accomplice with his dagger out too, scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement. She bit the right side of her lower lip.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” yelled the accomplice.

“You’re wasting your time doing that when you should be looking in my rucksack,” Ethan said.

“Why?” asked the accomplice.

“Because it’s full of jewels.”

“Yeah, sure,” said the accomplice.

“I’m telling you the truth. There is enough jewelry there for both of you to live like kings for the rest of your natural-born lives,” Ethan said.

“And my mother is a virgin,” said the principal thief with the dagger still at Ethan’s jugular.

“Then your mother is a virgin; that rucksack will make you as rich as a bishop.”

“Why would you tell us that?” asked the accomplice.

“Because I want to live; please just check the rucksack. If it isn’t bursting with jewels you can slit my throat.”

“Alright, but you better not be trying anything funny,” said the accomplice, moving backward from Lenore’s palfrey and continuing to be alert for any movement in the bushes.

“Yes, that’s right; the rucksack is hanging from the saddle horn on my palfrey. A few more steps and you are there,” Ethan said.

The accomplice reached Ethan’s palfrey. Still sweeping the area with his eyes, he felt along the palfrey’s haunches and over the saddle until he came to the saddle horn. Then he patted the rucksack.

“Hey, this bag is definitely filled with something,” said the accomplice.

“Well, put your hand inside and see what it is,” said the principal thief.

“What if there’s a snake inside?” the accomplice asked.

“Do you feel anything moving around?” the principal thief asked.

“No.”

“Then I think you don’t have to worry about a snake.”

“Alright, here goes,” said the accomplice, reaching into the rucksack without taking his eyes off the bushes.

“Well?” said the principal thief.

“Feels like jewelry, feels like a lot of jewelry.”

Lenore tensed her muscles and made ready to clear the shrubbery as quietly and as quickly as she could. Then the foolish accomplice turned his back to look into the rucksack – which meant both miscreants had their backs to her now. She need only wait for the accomplice to whistle or some such thing to cover the sound of her assault. He did whistle, and with excitement exclaimed that they were rich men. In those precious few seconds Lenore ran on her sturdy feet to her palfrey, grabbed her croquet mallet and crushed in the skull of the principal thief. Ethan caught the surprised accomplice with a dagger to the gut. He rolled around on the ground cursing them, and Lenore put him out of his misery with a well-aimed blow to the side of his head, which broke the handle of the mallet.

“There’s two less highwaymen,” she said, her hands beginning to shake.

“Dead as doornails,” said Ethan, kicking them both just to be sure.

“What do we do with their bodies?” she asked.

“I´ll drag them behind the bushes where you shat and leave them to the wolves,” Ethan said.

“Whatever you say,” said Lenore.

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Yes, but you weren’t when you saved my life,” he said.

“No, I was too worried about losing the jewelry,” she said.

He smiled, gave her a big hug and disposed of the thieves and the broken mallet. Then they mounted up, continued on their way and began to talk.

“That was providence, me having to relieve myself when I did,” said Lenore.

“Forsooth it was; but a greater providence occurred when your father picked me to be your buffoon.”

“I wonder how Father has taken our elopement,” she said.

“I don’t. What good does it do?”

“None I guess, but I hope he isn’t taking his anger out on Castor. . . Oh how I wish we could have retrieved him along our way.”

“I’ll get you a kitten when we get to Strasbourg.

“No thanks, Castor was the one and only cat for me.”

“Time heals every wound, my turtle dove.”

“I only wish,” she said.

“Do you miss your father, too?”

“Yes; and my soft bed, my cup of hot milk in the morning, my honeyed hazelnuts, my handmaiden . . . the things I’ve given up for you.”

“I shall make it all up to you when we get to Strasbourg.”

“Tell me about Strasbourg again.”

“It sits along the Rhine River like dew on a branch and is replete with sausages. There are more kinds of sausages there than stars in the sky; there are white sausages, blood sausages, kielbasa sausages, bratwurst sausages, Andouille sausages, hezel sausages, frankfurter sausages –”

“Stop, you’re making my mouth water” said Lenore.

“But you wanted me to talk about Strasbourg.”

“I know. I guess I like to be tortured. But enough is enough.”

“Alright, shall I tell you about my brother the bricklayer who I hope is still alive and laying bricks for the burghers of Strasbourg?”

“Yes if you wish, but first give me a piece of beef jerky.”

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