Chapter 5

Some days after Yolande had been told about the witch, she was visited by a doctor. He examined her and pronounced that she was suffering from malnourishment. Yolande was certain that although the food was not good, she had eaten enough of it to stay healthy. She thought she knew what was coming next. The question was, how to respond? The dim outline of a plan was forming in her mind.

The following day Prince Igor came in person. “We are seriously concerned about your well-being,” he said. “The doctor has made up this cordial for you.”

Yolande thought the prince must believe her a simpleton. She decided to play the part. “Thank you,” she said. “I did not realise that you had my well-being at heart.”

He produced a small bottle and poured it into a glass, then put it in her hand. Yolande had no belief in spells or potions. Confident that it was nothing, she took the glass and drained it. The prince looked at her carefully to make sure she had swallowed. As if to oblige, she held her mouth open. It was empty.

“I trust I shall find you changed tomorrow,” the prince said.

Half an hour later Yolande felt violent nausea. She went to the chamber pot in the corner and vomited. Two minutes later she vomited again. Whatever was in the potion did not agree with her. Whether it truly had magic properties, she would never know. But her plan had in any case been to pretend that it did. When the prince appeared the next day, she greeted him warmly. Don’t overplay it, she said to herself, or he will smell a rat. But she smiled and appeared pleased at his presence.

“How do you feel?” he enquired anxiously.

“Much, much better,” she said. “I must thank you.”

The prince smiled. He spoke with Yolande for several minutes. Then he went in search of Bick. The assistant looked terrified, fearful that the potion had not worked; or worse still, that it had had a terrible effect on Yolande. Instead the prince did a little jig. “It’s working,” he cried. “I’m sure it’s working. Where’s that old hag?”

“She’s gone, sire,” said Bick. “I gave her the money you said to pay her, and she left.”

“Where did she go? I must thank her.”

Inquiries proved fruitless. The witch had gone for ever. The prince did not care. “She would have only asked for more money,” he said to Bick. “It’s a good thing she’s disappeared.”

When the prince visited Yolande the next day she was more cheerful than ever. “I do so look forward to your visits,” she said. “It’s dull being on my own all day. Won’t you come more often?”

The prince was delighted. The next day she asked him if her hood might be removed. “I so long to see you, prince,” she said.

“I’ll think about it,” the prince said. He knew the effect his appearance generally had on young women. But the following day Yolande seemed so cheerful and welcoming that the prince produced the key that unlocked her hood. He slid it off from her head and stood there smiling. Yolande had prepared herself for this moment, or thought she had, but the prince was even uglier than she had feared. His hair was wild and unkempt, his beard straggling, ill-cared for. His face was covered with red blotches; his nose was bulbous, and several of his teeth were missing. Yolande thought that even such a voracious libertine as her sister would hesitate to fuck such a man. She looked away, then forced herself to look back and smile. If her plan was to work, she would have to control her emotions.

“Will you unlock my hands too?” she asked, holding out her manacles.

Igor did as she asked. She stood there, rubbing her wrists, wondering what would happen next. She was all too aware of Igor’s eyes roaming her naked body. He came closer. She could smell him, a rancid odour of unwashed clothes, of sweat and grime. She braced herself for the touch that she feared was coming, the grope of her breasts, or a hand between the legs. But instead Igor spoke.

“We must get you some clothes, princess,” he said. Then he turned and left. Soon the maidservants appeared, carrying dresses and other things. They were smiling, happy that things were going well. They helped her choose a gown, cut lower over the bosom that she thought decent, but at least it hid the rest of her body. Yolande found a pair of shoes she liked.

That afternoon Igor returned. She smiled at him, though it felt more like a grimace. “I have something of importance to discuss with you,” he said.

“Yes?” she responded. She had a good idea what it would be.

“I have long thought that our two kingdoms should have a closer relationship. It is a hostile world out there. Small countries are easily picked off.”

“That is why they need strong armies,” said Yolande resolutely.

“Undoubtedly so. But alliances, even mergers, are a more certain guarantee of strength.”

“Perhaps. If you can trust them.”

“Certainly they are,” said Igor. “And an alliance between your country and mine would be ideal.”

Yolande was silent, though it was obvious what was coming.

“If I were to marry you, our countries would be joined with the strongest possible bond,” Igor said.

“So your proposal is simply an affair of state?”

Igor blushed. “No, no,” he said hurriedly. “You are a very beautiful woman. I should adore to make you my wife.” He went down on one knee. “Please say you will be mine,” he said.

Yolande found this embarrassing. “Please,” she said. “A prince such as yourself should kneel to no one.”

Igor got awkwardly to his feet. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Marry me,” he said.