Bella at Midnight (24 page)

“Did you look into the stone?” she asked eagerly. “Perhaps she is there. You could see. It might tell you something.”

“I do not understand you, child.”

“Here, come over by the window and I will show you. Hold it thus—see how the light strikes it? Now look inside, and perhaps Isabel will be there. It is a magical ring. I saw my father in it many times, even after he died.”

I looked at Alice for a moment—to judge if she was not right in her mind, or if she was only making sport of me—but I decided she was in earnest. And so I looked into the emerald as she directed. And strangely, I
did
see something there, though I could make no sense of it. The image was dark.

“Keep looking,” she whispered. She was standing close to me, her hand upon my arm. “It takes a while. You will see it better in a moment.”

And gradually it
did
become clearer. I was looking into a dark room, or perhaps it was the dark corner of a room. A poor cottage, it seemed, with a straw pallet, and a figure lying upon it.

“Can you see her?” Alice asked. “Is she there?”

“I
do
see something. Or some
one
. Only, Alice—it is not Isabel. It's a man.”

“Oh,” she said.

“But how strange this is!” I cried. And indeed, I could scarce believe it—but the more I looked, the more certain I became. “I had not thought him mortal,” I said, more to myself than to her.

“Who?” This from Marianne, who had been hovering nearby, listening.

“The knight—he who saved us all. I thought he was some heavenly being, sent by God. Yet I see him lying wounded in a peasant cottage, like any man—though in the same white armor as before. And there is still the flame about his head. Only it is not so bright as it was.”

“Let me see!” said Marianne, and she pushed in between Alice and me, and grabbed my hand with the ring on it. I lost the light, then, and the vision was gone.

“Lady
, you are too
familiar
!” I snapped, and pulled my hand away. She cringed, as I had meant her to, and slunk away. Still, Alice stayed where she was, calmly watching me.

“It's all right,” she said. “It will be there again, when next you look. Only—how I wish it had been Isabel you saw!”

“Alice,” I said, “I know by rights this ring belongs to you. But I had thought to wear it always, in her memory. It comforts me mightily.”

“Oh, no, my lord prince, it is yours now. I gave it to Isabel, and I believe she would have wanted you to have it. And besides, it has spoken to me already, and given me comfort. And I believe it guided Isabel when she was in need of it. Now it speaks to you. There is a reason you saw what you did when you looked into that stone.”

“What do you mean, Alice—a reason?”

“The knight must be in need of you,” she said. “Else you would not see him there.”

“I cannot fathom it,” I admitted. “I thought him an angel! He brought two armies to their knees! How could such a being now lie wounded in some hovel, like any common mortal?”

“Is that what you saw?”

“That is
exactly
what I saw.”

“Then it is true. You should go and find him,” she said. “And see what he wants.”

“But I know not where he is!”

“The ring will guide you,” she said. “I am sure of it.”

“Then I will go. And if you are willing, I would have you come with me. For I think God has called you also to this task.”

Her face beamed then—and suddenly she became a very different Alice from the shy, downcast girl of moments before. She was now a radiant young lady, confident and full of spirit.

“Oh,
yes
!” she cried.

O
h, Father, I have such an amazing story to tell you—I think you will scarce believe it!

Remember how I longed to go adventuring with you when I was little? Well, now I have had an adventure of my own! Of course it was not quite so wonderful as it would have been to sail off with you to exotic lands and see the strange, wild creatures that dwell in those places, and meet all the pashas and the sultans. But I know that can never be, for you are in God's arms now. All the same, I am sure you hear me up there in heaven, and think of me often and love me as much as you did before you died. And so I know it will delight you to hear that I have traveled
all the way to Brutanna
with a
royal prince
, at his
personal request
!

See? I knew I would astonish you!

But wait—there is yet more! We went there to rescue the Worthy Knight! And we found him, too—and
such
a miraculous and confounding event
that
was! I am sure you know the knight of whom I speak—I think all in heaven must have peered over the clouds to watch and cheer his amazing ride. Well, we saw him in your emerald ring, Father, lying wounded in a humble cottage! It seemed wondrous strange to us, Prince Julian and me, that such a miraculous being could be truly mortal, at risk of harm like any common man. But I suppose that only one who loved peace enough to die for it had the power to bring about such a miracle.

How dreadful, then, that he should lie untended in a hovel—perhaps even upon the point of death—after all the good he had done! And so, on the very day we learned of his plight, we rode out to come to his aid.

The prince was accompanied by a great many nobles, as well as the king's physician, who would tend to the knight should we find him. And Father—you need not fear there was any impropriety, that I rode among all those men unchaperoned—for
Queen Alana came also
, together with the ladies of her household! She went to give thanks and to do penance, she said. Oh, Father, the queen is not haughty or proud, as you might expect her to be, but kind and good. She treated me with the greatest kindness and said she wished me to come to court and be one of her ladies. But I fear that would injure Marianne's feelings—for the queen sent
her
away. I guess you already heard about that.

We traveled at a brisk pace, so anxious was the prince to find the knight, and so afraid that he might die before ever we got there. We were guided all the way by your ring, and Prince Julian would have me beside him at all times so that I might interpret what he saw in it. There was no real need of this, though, for the visions came to him and not to me. He would see a mountain there in the emerald, or a winding road, or a copse of trees—and always we would come upon that very mountain or road or trees soon after, and know we were headed aright. Still, I was glad he wished for me to be at his side, for he is a most splendid prince, Father, and handsome and good.

As we rode north, there was much talk among the people as to where we were going and why. Many of them joined our procession—common folk and highborn alike—as though they went on a pilgrimage. This happened in Brutanna as well as in Moranmoor.

Our numbers had grown to several hundred, I would guess, by the time we left the main road and headed into the countryside, to the west of where King Harry's castle stands. The soil in those parts is rocky and poor, not fit for farming, and so it was used for the grazing of sheep. The way soon grew so narrow that no two could ride together, and it was so uneven that we were forced to slow our pace. If ever there was a spot where you would expect to find a humble cottage, this was it.

We came over a rise, and suddenly Prince Julian spurred his horse into a trot. I knew then that he had seen the place where the knight lay. And indeed, moments later I saw it, too—a little hut so small and ill favored that you would not even think to call it a cottage. Shelter from wind and rain was all it could provide—and precious little of that, as it had no door, and the walls were cracked, and the thatched roof had a great gaping hole in it.

Near the entrance stood a ragged child of about eight or nine years of age. He was wild-eyed with fear but seemed powerless to move from the spot, so transfixed was he by the sight of such a crowd of people, and the prince, and his knights, all so splendidly arrayed. Nor could he speak with enough force so that anyone could hear him. But he indicated with whispers and gestures that someone else—a father or a grandfather, perhaps—also lived there, but that he was away, most likely looking after the sheep. When asked if a wounded knight lay within, he merely pointed at the door. Finally, when the prince dismounted and made toward the entrance of the hut, the child found his feet
and
his voice, and fled wailing into the small copse of trees nearby, from whence he did not return.

Before Julian went inside, he turned and looked for me—I stood close behind him—and he took my hand and squeezed it. I felt his fear and hope and excitement all joined together in that touch. Then he let go of my hand and bent his head and ducked through the little opening, into the shadowy space within.

The only light in the room came from the door—now well blocked by those of us who peered through it—and from the smoke hole above. But the angle of the sun was such that a beam of light came through the roof and shone directly upon the figure that lay at Julian's feet. And I saw it then—the fiery nimbus I had heard spoken of, radiating from the head of the sleeping knight, like a magical helmet of flame. Julian knelt before the knight and spoke softly to him.

I watched intently, and in time my eyes adjusted to the dark so that I was better able to see. And Father—how I blinked in astonishment, hardly believing the evidence of my own eyes! And how I gaped in amazement, for I realized that all I had seen before had been an illusion! The knight's head was not framed by a halo of fire, but a tangle of reddish gold hair, lit bright by the sun. And he wore no armor—only a soiled tunic of a buff color, and torn hose.

Julian bent over and laid his head upon the pallet beside the figure. I saw his body shake, as from a convulsive sob, and I feared we had arrived too late. But then the knight turned his head and—I could not catch my breath, such was the shock of it. For, Father, it was not a knight at all, or even a man. It was
Isabel
!

She opened her eyes and touched Julian's hair. He lifted his head and gazed at her, unspeaking.

“Julian!” she said. “On your knees,
yet again
?”

“Oh, Bella!” he said, almost laughing, but for the tears.

“I fell off my horse. Was that not clumsy of me? I fear I broke my leg—and took a few arrows in my shoulder, too. But I'm better now.” She looked toward the door, then, and saw me, and all the others crowding around the small entrance. “Is that
Alice
?” she asked drowsily, squinting in my direction. “There are such a lot of people, Julian!”

“Yes,” he said.

“The battle must be over,” she said, “or else you would not be here. What happened?”

“
You
happened, Bella. You saved us.”

He kissed her, then, and I looked away, for it seemed not right to stare. It was then that I saw, leaning against the wall of the hut, a stout branch with a torn strip of ivory brocade tied to one end. Of course! The banner of peace!

It had been a miracle after all: A young woman dressed in shabby boy's clothes had become a great knight in white armor. Golden hair became a wreath of flame. A branch and a fragment torn from a gown were transformed into a noble banner. Everyone saw what God wished him to see. Only the courage and the danger were real—and they had all been hers.

“Bella,” Julian said. “Can you rise from your bed?”

“I have been considering it,” she said, “though I do not think I can stand without aid.”

And so he lifted her up in his arms and carried her out into the daylight. We all stepped back to make way for him—except one or two knights who helped him ease her through the narrow door. There was much gasping and whispering among the people when they saw her, for they had expected to see a strapping knight aglow with celestial light, not a girl of sixteen with dirt upon her face and bits of straw in her hair.

The prince helped her balance on her good leg for a moment. It was lovely to see them together thus: Julian so fine in his royal tunic, his crown upon his head, and his arm about my stepsister—who was bandaged and rumpled and beaming like the sun.

“Bella,” he said softly. “Will you kneel? Can you do it?”

“More easily than I can stand,” she said. “Is it
my
turn to make a pretty speech then, Julian?
I most sincerely regret that I did not wait for you, as promised?
”

“No, Bella, I only need you to kneel for a moment. Try to stay upright if you can.”

She giggled, and swayed a little, just to tease him. “Like this?” she said.

“Bella,” he said solemnly, “you can just be quiet for a moment, if you will.”

She bit her lip but could not suppress a smile.

“Fold your arms,” he said, and she did so.

Then—oh, Father, this is the very best part!—Julian took his sword from its scabbard and held it aloft for a moment, commanding the crowd's attention. When all was quiet, he lowered it, flat side down, and touched her lightly upon the shoulder, three times. And in a booming voice, he declaimed: “Isabel, daughter of Martin and Beatrice Smith of the village of Castle Down, in the name of God and of all the saints in heaven, I hereby make thee a knight.”