Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [83]
“Now, Brother Angier, let us not be too quick to condemn,” said a soft voice. In the far corner of the room, as though cast aside by his more flamboyant brother in the church, Bishop Schelker stood. That good man, who had baptized Rose and all her sisters, smiled with relief at the princesses as he came forward.
“Bishop Angier, I confess myself a bit disturbed by the cavalier way in which you seem to have declared King Gregor and his young daughters guilty.” His mild blue eyes fixed on Angier, who began to turn very red.
“The archbishop has full confidence in my judgment!” Angier roared.
“Does he?” Schelker pulled a scroll from his sleeve. “I have a letter here from His Holiness, Angier. It arrived just moments ago. He asks how our joint investigation of this matter is proceeding. His Holiness also makes reference to the instructions that you were to deliver to me, which I never received.”
Angier swallowed and then straightened his cuffs. “Well, Schelker—”
Bishop Schelker interrupted him. “It seems that the archbishop has long been concerned with your overzealous methods in investigating matters of witchcraft, and that you were not his first choice to take care of this matter. But his first choice, and his second, were both quite suddenly indisposed. This naturally has made His Holiness suspicious. In addition to making certain that King Gregor and his daughters are treated with all respect, he asks me to keep an eye on you and to put a halt to matters if I think you have overstepped your bounds. And I believe that you have.” Schelker never raised his voice. “Guards. Please escort His Excellency to his rooms, and make sure he stays there. Father Michel, too.”
Angier adjusted his robes with great dignity and swept out before the guards could lay a hand on him. As he passed Rose and her sisters, he gave them a vicious look. “Evil never triumphs,” he hissed at them.
“I know,” Rose retorted.
The guards did have to lead away a babbling, wild-eyed Father Michel, who was insisting that he knew nothing of the other bishops’ illnesses, and that he was an innocent man. Schelker watched with a look of deep disappointment, then turned back to King Gregor and gave a little nod.
King Gregor, in turn, looked to Galen. “Now that that unpleasantness is done, would you please enlighten us all?” His normal brusque manner was back.
Galen came forward and bowed again amid the babble that arose from the council. He held up a hand for silence, waited until he got it, then said, “Your Majesty, every night, a deep sleep would fall upon your daughters’ attendants. The princesses then descended a golden stair through the floor of their sitting room.” He pulled something from the pouch at his belt: a charred bit of silk. “This was the rug that transformed into the staircase, now destroyed by fire at the hands of Princess Hyacinth.” He laid it on the table in front of King Gregor.
“They passed through a gate of silver and pearl and into a forest of silver trees.” Galen reached over and plucked something from Rose’s hair. She started and he smiled at her, then laid a silver leaf before her father.
King Gregor lifted the silver leaf and studied it carefully. All along the table, the councillors watched Galen with rapt attention.
“After the forest they were met on the shores of a great black lake by twelve suitors, who took them in golden boats to a palace on an island at the center of the lake.” Galen took out a handkerchief and spread it before the king, revealing the remaining teaspoonful of glittering black sand. “There they danced till dawn with their suitors, the sons of the King Under Stone.” And Galen produced a silver goblet set with precious stones. “It was he who held your daughters in thrall. He who kept them from speaking a word of this enchantment.”
The prime minister could not hold back. “And how was it that this fiend got control of the princesses? Young ladies of their upbringing do not have dealing with devils!”
“Nor