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105 pages

English

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A princess is forever in the public eye, but she can enjoy herself. Andrela, Princess of Eland, but not heir to the throne, takes her fun wherever she can find it. Her light-heartedness is frequently deplored by her parents, but that does not inhibit her. She has her own priorities and her own ambitions. She does understand her duties, though, and sometimes duty demands more than she wants to give.

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Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Fantasy

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Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers
Date de parution	31 mai 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781528956574
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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A Step Towards Unity
Margaret Garth
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-05-31
A Step Towards Unity About the Author About the Book Dedication Copyright Information Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25
About the Author
Margaret Garth was born in Manchester and studied Chemistry and Mathematics at St Andrew’s University, Dundee, despite her interest in history and her love of stories.
She married and moved to Norfolk and kept her imagination lively by telling stories to her four children, and later to her grandchildren. Gardening and sewing are her main hobbies.
Somewhat late in life, she finished a novel, A Tale of Salima. This book is fourth in the series.
Other tales of Salima:
The Witch of Bellue
The Battle of Felten
The Beginning of Unity
About the Book
A princess is forever in the public eye, but she can enjoy herself. Andrela, Princess of Eland, but not heir to the throne, takes her fun wherever she can find it. Her light-heartedness is frequently deplored by her parents, but that does not inhibit her. She has her own priorities and her own ambitions. She does understand her duties, though, and sometimes duty demands more than she wants to give.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my staunch and steadfast
daughter-in-law, Tracie.
Copyright Information
Copyright © Margaret Garth (2019)
The right of Margaret Garth to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788789981 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528956574 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Chapter 1
Princess Indola stood at the window and watched her son as he strolled with his friends in the palace garden. She frowned. He ought to have attended Assembly today. There was not a long agenda, but one or two of the topics were of importance. State affairs were not discussed with her. She had no particular interest, but she did have her own ways of finding out what was happening. Her husband indulged his son but she did not, and though he went to most Assembly meetings, she knew that he rarely offered an opinion.
She was a formidable and ambitious woman, named after the granddaughter of Nikkor and Kaealestria 1 . She did not possess the intellect of that Princess, but she was shrewd and had fought to be the Chosen Woman of the High Prince of Westland despite some opposition and a great deal of competition. For all her determination and her talents, they had had only one child, Darmon, and he was not maturing as she had planned. He was four and twenty, but she felt that he still lacked a proper appreciation of his duty. He disliked the formality in which she revelled and had shown no inclination to select a Chosen Woman.
Her frown deepened as she watched. He was going with his friends to the ‘children’s garden’ and she could not see him there. She had never managed to persuade her husband to cut down the trees that shielded that place from view.
“All children,” he had said, “and possibly Princes more than others, need a place where they can play and fight and test their courage as they choose, without being supervised and worried by adults.”
“It is the adults who do the worrying,” she had protested, but he had merely told her not to fret and had, she was sure, made certain that those who tended the palace gardens knew exactly which trees they might cut as they felt appropriate and which they must leave alone unless they had his personal permission to trim them.
Whether or not that was the case, the trees had grown unfettered and now concealed all parts of the ‘children’s garden’ from every vantage point in the palace, even the scullery maid’s attic.
Darmon was well aware of the privacy offered and its limits.
“Do not start practising your leaps just yet, Jon,” he warned.
“We are not small boys any longer. Heads are visible until we pass Seabee’s bush, and my revered Mama will be watching. She already considers you frivolous; do not give her proof of it.”
“And do not turn your head to look for Her Highness,” added Ped. “She has sharp eyes.”
Pedan was the eldest of the three and was already in possession of his lands and title, but despite the considerable efforts of eligible young women, their parents and their friends, the handsome Lord Pandour was still unattached.
Jonal Tesher, third son of Lord Barre, waited until they were safely past the bush, named for the cat whose grave it marked, before he informed Ped that he was not a fool, and he emphasised the message with a friendly thump. He then leapt into the air and began to run towards the ‘rope’ tree.
The informality of the children’s garden extended to names. Titles were abandoned and even the Prince was addressed, without deference, as Dee.
The ‘rope’ tree was old. Its strong branches spread wide, and it had been used by generations of children for climbing. Three sturdy ropes hung low, ending at various heights from the ground, and the remains of others, long since broken, were half-hidden in its high crown.
Climbing the ropes was no longer a challenge for the young men but leaping high enough to clasp a certain branch and swing oneself up to straddle the stouter branch beneath it, was, and Jon, shorter and more sturdily built than the others, sometimes struggled.
“He has been practising,” noted Ped. “Do you think that today he will make it first time?”
“Perhaps, but it is not easy. Even I have been known to need a second attempt, on occasions.”
“Many occasions,” returned his companion with a grin, “and you can practise whenever you choose.”
“Indeed, I cannot!” protested the Prince. “I have official duties, social engagements of the dullest kind, and I am obliged to attend Assembly meetings. They are so tedious. The most trivial of decisions always generate the longest discussions and meetings always seem to coincide with pleasant social occasions such as race meetings and beach parties. How I am supposed to meet informally with young ladies of quality, I do not know.”
Ped gave an unsympathetic laugh as they came in sight of the tree. Jon was waiting, sitting smugly astride the favoured branch.
“Best make it first try today,” he warned, “or Jon will never let you forget.”
“Come,” that gentleman shouted. “Last is hardest!”
As this was undoubtedly true, both began to run. As they were evenly matched at running and jumping, they reached their target at the same time. The branch bent alarmingly under their combined weight, and though the lower limb was sturdy enough not to sway, they landed beside Jon in an ungainly tangle.
As this was a common occurrence, they seated themselves more comfortably without difficulty and Ped initiated the discussion as to whose turn it was to provide the refreshments, for it was unthinkable that they came to the garden without food or drink. Long ago, it had been fruit juice and cakes or sweetmeats, now it was wine and savouries.
“No bags,” exclaimed Jon and added with a touch of anxiety, “I don’t think it was my turn.”
Dee, balanced at the narrow end of the branch, reached up and pulled down two lengths of trailing greenery.
“My turn,” he said as he tied a couple of flexible twigs together. “All we need is safely stored in the hollow.”
Jon hauled himself upright with the aid of the catching branch and reached upwards to retrieve a small basket. He handed it to Ped and settled back in his place.
“I was free this morning,” continued Dee, adjusting the living sling behind him and gripping it beneath his arms. “Unexpectedly, as I thought there was an Assembly meeting. It seems that the time had changed, though not the agenda, and although my diary had been updated, I had not been told. It is now in session, but by the time I discovered the change, I had – so sadly – made other arrangements.”
He accepted a wooden cup of wine and grinned contentedly. “I shall miss this when I choose a woman.”
“Under pressure?” inquired Ped with careful disinterest.
“My father,” replied Dee. “He has been told by one of his doctors that his heart has been strained by his responsibilities and that unless he takes great care, he will be dead in five years. I do not believe it, but he is worried. He has said nothing about my taking a Chosen Woman, but he has reminded me that parents do not accompany their children into this garden. It is the privilege of the grandparents to introduce the first born to its delights; and he looks forward to doing so.”
The even tone did not deceive his friends. Jon burst out indignantly almost before the last words were spoken.
“That is dreadfully unfair; an underhand way to try to influence you. He knows how much you love this place!”
“Subtle,” commented Ped quietly and did not add that it was more likely to persuade than the Princess’s blunt and dictatorial statements on the subject.
“I do love it,” agreed Dee, answering Jon rather than Ped, "but so, I am sure, has every other young prince and princess and all have been obliged to grow up and leave its pleasures to their children.
“I am surprised,” he continued thoughtfully, “that none have made an ‘adult’s garden’ for themselves. Perhaps I shall create one. If I do,