Meeting the people today was very different from yesterday. The people were in their Sunday best and were using their best formal manners. They smiled at her, but no one laughed and they just asked her questions. It was really quite tedious for her.
The people seemed pleased to see Count Julian and repeatedly asked when the wedding was going to be. “But I’m already married,” she wanted to tell them.
It was one o’clock before they were on their way back to the car and over the heads of the people Aria could smell food. There was a break in the crowd, and some distance away, at the side of a tiny house, a woman was ladling something into a piece of bread and handing it to a little boy. Aria knew what it was; she’d had one as a child. A piece of thick Lanconian bread, still warm from the oven, with a thick, chewy crust, was split and inside was ladled a generous scoop of spicy chicken stew made with grapes. Fresh goat cheese was sprinkled on top.
Aria wasn’t even aware of what she was doing, but she turned away from where Julian waited by the open car door, started saying, “Excuse me,” and made her way through the crowd to the woman’s house. “May I have one?” she asked the astonished woman.
The old woman just stood there and stared.
“Gramma!” the little boy said loudly, bringing the woman to her senses. She spooned stew into the bread, sprinkled it with cheese, and held it out to Aria.
“Thank you very much,” Aria said, biting into it. She suddenly became aware of the silent crowd behind her. She turned, a bit of sauce on her upper lip. “It’s delicious,” she said, and the crowd cheered.
A guardsman handed her a clean handkerchief to use as a napkin and she saw that there were four guardsmen near her. They had followed her as she went through the crowd.
“Princess,” she heard, and looked down to see the little boy holding out a rough stoneware mug to her. “It’s buttermilk.”
Aria smiled and took the mug. “Thank you,” she said.
The little boy grinned. “You’re not like a real princess at all.”
“Thank you again,” she said, making the crowd laugh. The guardsmen parted the crowd as she made her way back to the car.
Julian was fuming. He lectured her all the way back to the palace as she greedily ate her sandwich and drank her buttermilk. He wanted to throw the mug out the window but she wouldn’t let him.
When they arrived at the palace, the guardsman who had sat in the front seat opened the door for her and she handed him the mug. “I would like to thank that woman for her food. Would you please find out what she needs?”
“I saw an empty chicken coop,” the guardsman said softly.
“Fill it,” Aria said before Julian gave her a sharp look. “Do you know where Lieutenant Montgomery is?” she whispered.
“With the guards, Your Highness.”
Aria turned her head so Julian wouldn’t see her talking. “Would you please see that my horse is ready in twenty minutes?”
The guardsman merely nodded as they rounded the car and she was within earshot of Count Julian.
* * *
Aria had some difficulty escaping Julian and she saw a few other members of her family looking askance at her as she ran across the courtyard and made her way to the stables. Her horse was saddled and waiting for her and four Royal Guardsmen were ready to ride with her.
It was a matter of minutes before she reached the guardsmen’s training field then halted her horse to watch the men. J.T. was with the guardsmen, wearing the white loincloth and battling with a stick against a guardsman. J.T. was as tall as the guardsmen but paler skinned and not as heavy. He wasn’t very good with the stick either and the guardsman he was sparring with seemed to be toying with him.
“He will learn,” said the guard beside Aria. “In another year or so he will be the best fighter in Lanconia.”
Aria smiled at that, but then she remembered that in a year J.T. would probably be back in America and she would be married to Julian.
At that moment J.T. glanced at her, she waved, and the next moment J.T. was sent sprawling on the ground.
“Keep your mind on what you are doing,” the guardsman standing over J.T. yelled.
Aria went running to J.T. “Are you hurt?” she asked as she knelt beside him. She glared up at the guardsman. “I’ll have your head if you’ve hurt him.”
J.T. smiled at her as he rubbed his bruised shoulder. “I may die of embarrassment but nothing else. Tell Rax you didn’t mean what you said.”
Aria was aware that many of the guardsmen were now watching them with curiosity. She genuinely wished she had not made such a fool of herself, but before she could say a word, Gena came running across the field. She was wearing practically nothing: a short-skirted, one-shoulder dress, a heavy gold bracelet on her right upper arm.
“J.T. darling,” Gena said, falling to her knees by his side. “Are you all right? Have you been injured?”