This fact that I knew he was disguised came as a bit of a shock to Valkar, and I think that it was this, that I had known for some time of his disguise and had not ever revealed it to the authorities, that convinced him that I was a friend and a defender of the Princess. He blinked, his expression sobering.
“How long have you known this?” he asked slowly.
“Ever since that night in the wineshop when the serving wench spilled wine on you, erasing some of your false skin-coloring,” I said. He nodded grimly.
“Against such accidents no man can adequately guard,” he admitted. “I recall the incident well; since you made no remark, and gave no sign of having noticed, I assumed that I had managed to repair the damage to my makeup before you observed.”
Then his eyes grew thoughtful and he laughed.
“Is it not odd how fate plays small tricks upon we mortals? You and I, I think, instinctively liked and trusted each other and soon became fast friends―both of us spies, infiltrating the ranks of the Black Legion for the same purpose, but neither aware that the other was here for the same reason as himself! It is almost as if our secret sympathy and common cause communicated by some sixth sense, finding a kindred soul to which it felt drawn for unknown reasons.” Then he shrugged and a friendly smile warmed his sober features.
“For all these months I have been here in Shondakor, unable to effect Darloona’s rescue, although I did manage to win a high rank among the host of the Chac Yuul. Whereas you, Jandar, enter the Legion and almost at once attract the patronage of that sneaking horeb, Prince Vaspian, and are able to come and go in the palace as you please, where I can gain entrance only by the most extraordinary use of caution and agility. I congratulate you on your good fortune! Between the two of us, we may be able to render aid to our Princess.”
“If she truly desires our aid,” said I, gloomily. He asked my meaning with some surprise, and I recounted to him something of my own suspicions regarding Darloona―suspicions that had been roused by her ambiguous behavior with Prince Vaspian and by her seemingly willing acceptance of his suit. I pointed out reluctantly that I could see no reason why a woman so fiercely proud as Darloona should accept the cowardly and psychotic Vaspian as her consort-to-be unless, by some incredible chance, she had actually fallen in love with the son of Arkola.
“Darloona,” I concluded glumly, “is no tender maiden to be frightened into a marriage by threats of punishment. She is strong-willed, a warrior princess if ever there was one, and I cannot believe that she would permit any threatened danger to force her into a marriage where love was not. Indeed, I can hardly imagine any threat that could coerce the Princess of the Ku Thad into a wedding with that whining little monster. Unlikely as it seems, she must truly love him!”
He listened to my suspicions with a meditative mien. My reasoning was now somewhat shaken, you will perceive, by the discovery that it was not Vaspian I had surprised in a clandestine embrace with the
Princess of Shondakor in the seclusion of her boudoir, but Valkar himself: yet it was true that she had accepted him as her betrothed and that she did not publicly repulse the affections of the Prince. So her behavior in this regard was still a mystery to me.
When I had finished, Valkar wasted no time in setting me to rights on this point.
“Let me relieve your mind on this question, Jandar, my friend,” he said vigorously. “The Princess loathes and despises Prince Vaspian as any proud and noble woman of her high birth and breeding could. She has told me that she would rather sheathe a dagger in her heart than accept the hand of Vaspian before the dark altars of the Chac Yuul.”
I looked at him with some surprise.
“If this be so,” I mused, “why then does she not repudiate her promise to wed the Prince?”
His voice was somber and his eyes smoldered with repressed fires as be explained the puzzle.
“She dares not. For Vaspian holds the key to the safety of her people. You see, the policies of the Black Legion are decided by a consensus of the high council of the Lords of the Legion, one of whom is Prince Vaspian.
“So I have been given to understand.” I nodded.
“And, hitherto, whenever the question arose of whether it would not be wise for the Legion to protect its rather shaky and insecure control over the citizens of Shondakor by mass executions and imprisonment―a logical, if cold-blooded, course of action which Arkola himself approves most heartily―Prince Vaspian holds the deciding vote, for the council is neatly divided upon this question.”
“But why should Vaspian object?; Surely, not from any humanitarian considerations, for he is as cold-blooded as the rest of them.”
“True.” Valkar smiled grimly. “But Vaspian hates his father and wherever possible opposes him in public measures out of sheer spitefulness. Hence he has always cast his vote against the measure in the past, whenever it has come up on the agenda of the council meetings. But he has threatened Darloona in secret that if she does not agree to become his bride, he will raise the matter again and this time cast his vote upon his father’s side. It is virtually the only way the Prince can injure his father, whom he hates for being more of a man than himself, and he takes great delight from openly frustrating Arkola’s will. And against this sort of rebellion, of course, even so powerful a leader as the Warlord is helpless, due to the very laws of the Black Legion, and their customs and traditions.”
I nodded, remembering the open hostility I had observed between Vaspian and Arkola at the council meeting I had attended some days ago.
Valkar continued: “As for Darloona, the only thing the unhappy girl can do to prevent the mass slaughter of her helpless people is to promise to wed the slimy little monster. Thus she dares not repulse his attentions in public.”
Why had I never thought of this logical answer to the mystery of her behavior? As the true realization of Darloona’s ghastly plight burst upon me, cold sweat bedewed my brow and I tasted the metallic, bitterness of dread.
Of course it was impossible that Darloona could have given her love to the cowardly, whining Prince!
But it was equally impossible that, even with the aid of my newfound ally, Valkar, I could ever persuade Darloona to escape the city with me. For the vengeful and malicious Vaspian would punish her betrayal of him by bringing about the mass execution of the unarmed and captive populace―and she knew it!
Was there ever a dilemma so completely hopeless?
There was utterly nothing that I could do to prevent the woman I loved from marrying the man she loathed and despised from the very bottom of her proud heart.
After a time I roused myself from these grim thoughts and queried my friend Valkar, asking if he had any ideas as to how we could help Darloona resolve her problems.
He shrugged gloomily.
“None whatsoever,” he admitted. “Ever since I managed to locate the secret entrance into the palace, whereby to effect my secret interviews with the Princess, I have begged her to flee the city by my side, but to no avail. It is impossible for her to consider such an action, for to do so would mean that she dooms to death the very people who love and trust her, and whom she has sworn to protect. Alas, my poor cousin! She is helpless in such a situation.”