The Princess and the Captain Read Free Page A

Archont, had planned their escape in meticulous detail.
    Malva swung the mirror away, because her reflection was beginning to upset her. As she did so the letter slipped down behind the dressing table, but she didn’t notice. She rose and went to the window to pull back the curtains.
    The moon had not yet risen. There was still a fine ribbon of clear twilit sky on the horizon beyond the orchards. Towards the east stood rolling hills, dipping to valleys here and there as the River Gdavir meandered on its way. I may never come back, Malva thought. I may never taste the fruits of that orchard or see summer in Galnicia again. She felt a lump in her throat, but quickly swallowed; it was much too soon to start feeling homesick.
    At that moment Philomena came back through the hiddendoor. Without a word she put down the bundle containing the disguise: cotton underwear, a coarsely woven skirt, a beige top with simple sleeves, a plain bonnet. Over it Malva threw a woollen cape that Philomena had stolen from a peasant woman at the cattle fair. The worn, shabby outfit would help her to pass unnoticed. The cape had a hood which came down over her eyes when she lowered her head.
    â€˜What do I look like?’ asked Malva.
    â€˜A girl of no importance,’ said Philomena, after solemnly inspecting her.
    The Princess smiled. From now on Malva, sole heir to the throne of Galnicia, was a girl of no importance.
    Philomena collected her royal garments, wrapped them around Malva’s locks of hair, and put everything into the bundle that she was carrying under her arm. It contained all their worldly goods: a change of clothing, a loaf of bread, some olives, a fair sum of money in gold pieces given to them by the Archont, and new notebooks. Malva was planning to write all her adventures in them.
    â€˜Come on,’ said Malva, making for the entrance to the secret passage.
    Philomena followed, closing the door behind her. As darkness enveloped them, Malva suddenly realised that this time it wasn’t just a rehearsal.

2
An Urgent Summons
    The first houses in the Lower Town stood close to the surrounding wall that protected the gardens of the Citadel. They were tall, narrow, whitewashed buildings crowded close together. During the day, washing was spread out to dry on the flat stone roofs. Every evening, when the last rays of the sun shone over the horizon, women left their kitchens and went up to bring in the sheets and clothes that had been baking in the warmth. At that time of day they looked like a shadowy army moving on the rooftops.
    Ever since he came to live in the Lower Town, Orpheus had been fascinated by the washerwomen. Leaning on his elbows at his bedroom window, he listened to their laughter, their songs, their chirruping conversation. Sometimes arguments broke out. Insults flew from roof to roof, echoing down the empty alleyways. Sometimes the women lingered on the rooftops for a little while, motionless and mute, looking down from this vantage point on the Coronador’s basins of water and bamboo hedges.
    This evening Orpheus noticed that they had eyes only for the Citadel. No arguing, no songs; Orpheus heard only their exclamations of wonder.
    â€˜Lanterns!’ said one woman. ‘Aren’t they beautiful?’
    â€˜The fountains have been turned on,’ said another.
    â€˜Listen!’ cried a third. ‘That sounds like music already!’
    â€˜Oh, do you think the ball has begun?’ asked the youngest woman.
    â€˜Don’t be so silly!’ replied the eldest. ‘This is just a rehearsal. The wedding is tomorrow.’
    â€˜I’d love to be invited!’ sighed the first speaker.
    â€˜We can watch it all from up here,’ her neighbour consoled her.
    â€˜I do hope we’ll see the Princess!’ the youngest woman sighed again. ‘She’s so beautiful, so harmonious …’
    Orpheus couldn’t see the gardens from his own window, but the