Everyone was right – she was insane. She had finally unhooked the last cables of her rational mind and floated away. But she found herself talking to the dog, anyway. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to.
“I forgot your biscuits,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I love you. Pet me.”
She scratched behind Wilf’s ear and they walked together to the stables.
In the sweet, hay-smelling shadows, Lochinvar spoke to her also. “I missed you,” he said
She hugged his neck. “I missed you, too.”
If this was madness, madness might not be such a bad thing after all.
It was long after dark when they returned from their ride. Katerina was currying the big horse with Wilf at her feet. It was a favorite ritual for both of them (She knew for certain now what she had always presumed), but she was distracted tonight. She knew she would be losing him in the morning. She finished finally, and kissed the white flash between his eyes. She didn’t have the heart to say goodbye.
Lochinvar pushed at her head with his own. It something he did often.
“What does it mean when you do that?,” she asked him.
He looked down. “It means … be happy.”
“I can’t tonight,” she said.
She hugged him once more and left the stable.
Three
She heard at breakfast the next morning that Anders had left for Vilny.
“Now perhaps there will be some regularity in this household,” said the King.
And indeed, Katerina did pick up the routines of her life again, studying mathematics and languages and history with her tutors, reading the Bible, playing hostess to her father’s guests. But her manner was more and more remote, her smile increasingly frozen in place. She made foreign dignitaries nervous. She frightened children, and children had always adored her in the past.
For herself, these social situations seemed louder, more threatening and most of all, faster paced than ever before. Things seemed to go by her in a whirl of sound and color. She often had no idea where she was in a conversation or what was expected of her from moment to moment.
Lochinvar’s departure was a blow she couldn’t seem to recover from. She was helplessly angry with her father but had given up trying to talk to him. She spent a lot of time in her chambers crying and took long walks with Wilf. But his conversation was limited. He was a dog, after all. She had always thought that a talking animal would sound like a human being, only cuter. But Wilf’s concerns remained stubbornly canine.
“Running feels good,” he would offer. Or, “Throw stick for me.”
He missed Lochinvar, too. But it didn’t affect him in the same way. He was sort of impervious to things.
“I hope Lochinvar is happy, I hope he likes his new people,” Katerina would say.
Wilf would focus for a moment. “Me, too,” he’d say. Then, “Bird to chase!” or “There’s some dead stuff to roll in.” and he’d sprint away. She envied the way his mind was rooted in whatever was going on at any exact moment. It was hard for him to think about the past and to say he had no worries about the future missed the point. He didn’t even understand what the future was, unless it could be summarized by some general concept like, “more of the same”.
He liked that idea. More of the same was fine with him.
She couldn’t bear to go near the stables and so she didn’t find out for several days that Anders had returned. It was eight o’clock on Sunday evening when he came to her chamber door. Normally, the servants who worked outside the castle proper were not allowed even into the anterooms of the royal residence, much less the Princess’ suite. But Anders had friends among the palace staff and he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, a privilege he had maintained by not abusing it. In fact, he rarely asked a favor from anyone.
But this night was special.
He knocked on Katerina’s door just as the church bells were tolling the hour. It was only a few days until the summer solstice and the light was still strong outside. Though many in the castle were asleep behind heavy curtains by now, Anders knew Katerina would be awake. She loved the long summer days just as she loathed the cold dark afternoons of the German winter; she had told him so. And she rarely slept more than a few hours a night anymore. She had confessed that, too.
He knocked softly on her chamber door. When she opened it, he stepped back, stunned for a moment by the sheer force of her effortless physical beauty. She had just come from the bath and her personal maid, Lisa, had been brushing her long blond hair, It was usually pulled back into a severe bun or braid – Anders had never seen it loose, framing her face like a waterfall of golden light. And she was wearing some sort of nightgown with a pattern of tiny violets. It was ankle length and demure, but still so intimate that he had to look away.
He was blushing. And it made her smile. Lisa would have been pleased to see that smile – it was the first one that had crossed Katerina’s face for days.
She touched his shoulder.
“Anders?,” she said. “What are you doing here? When did you get back?”
He looked up, then away again. He knew his stare was a kind of trespass, for both them. She would see too much if he let her look into his eyes.
“I have something to show you,” he told her. “Come with me to the stables, Princess. Please. It’s important.”
“Now?”
He nodded, memorizing the hallway flagstones, terrified by his own impertinence.
But she said, “Just give me a moment to get dressed.”
The door closed and when it opened again she was wearing her rough riding clothes. To Anders she always looked far more beautiful this way than when arrayed in her finery. Elaborate gowns and evening dresses made her look like anyone else, like all the other noble girls who crowded into the castle for the annual balls and celebrations with their intricately piled coiffures and their painted faces. They were invisible behind those masks; they almost clanked in their feminine armor. And from what Anders had heard about their undergarments, the wired brassieres and the metal chastity belts, the image was not so far-fetched as it might seem.
He loved to see Katerina with her face smudged with dirt and lashed with twigs and leaves after one of her wild rides – that was the best make-up of all. He knew she hadn’t been riding since his departure. But that that was about to change.
They walked to the stables in silence. After a few steps, Wilf joined them, but she scarcely seemed to notice the dog’s presence. Anders could feel her sadness, like a terrible heat. She was a girl with a fever, so warm to the touch; and inside, she was shivering with the cold. Anders knew better than to bother the princess with chitchat, or to try and “cheer her up”. Only the boldest of actions could have any effect on such distress.
So he had acted, in the only way that he was able to, in the only arena where he was free.
He opened the stable door for her and Wilf and followed them into the shadows. An unmistakable voice called out, “Princess? Is that you?”
Katerina grabbed Anders’ arm so hard he cried out in surprise.
“Anders!”
He nodded.
“But how -- ?”
“Go to him. I’ll explain later.”
Katerina ran. She stumbled once, with Wilf tangled in her feet, and cracked her shin on a feed bin. When she found the stall she fumbled with the latch. For a long moment she thought she wouldn’t be able to open it, that her hands had failed her as her mother’s hands had failed, flailing with palsy.
The big horse came to the door just as she managed to release the hasp and slide back the bolt.
“I missed you,” he said, rubbing his head against hers “Why didn’t you come?”
She slipped into the stall and hugged his neck.
“I … I didn’t know – I thought – “
“I meant to tell you he was here,” said Wilf. “But I just forgot. I’d see you and get all excited and all the food smells in the castle and … It’s hard for me to remember things sometimes.” He lowered his head, and she rubbed him behind his ears.
“It’s all right, Wilf. You’re a good dog.”
Anders was beside her then. He said, “It’s still light outside. Lead him into the yard. I want you to see something. Then I’ll explain.”
He spoke as an equal and it seemed perfectly natural to all of them. Here among the horses, he was her equal.
In the evening light, Katerina could see that the white flash on Lochinvar’s forehead was gone. If you looked closely you could see that colors didn’t quite match up; his brow was mottled.
“The work I did on Samson was much better. His white flash looks perfect.”
Katerina laughed “Samson? You gave them Samson? He’s the slowest horse in the stable!”
“And the most ill-tempered. We’re well rid of him.”
Lochinvar put his muzzle to her ear. “He was dumb, too, princess. And a bully.”
“But he stood seventeen and a half hands,” said Anders. “Just like Lochinvar here. And was all that mattered.”
can't wait for the next installment!