Chapter 3 – A special delivery
Joe had spent his morning off in Pyrus and on returning to the Castle he passed the stables. A slim lady was listening to the Master of the Horse. Joe inwardly cursed and walked toward them.
´Good morning Mr Romero,´ the nobleman took the initiative, ´I was telling Her Royal Highness about Rosemonde's recovery.´
The lady looked Irish or Scottish with her fair complexion and auburn hair but she was the Dutch princess Emma who would be Her Majesty's guest for a few days.
´Your Highness,´ Joe greeted her, inclining his head. ´I am sorry for not having been present to greet you, as Her Majesty had asked me to do.´
´It is not your fault that I arrived too early Mr Romero.´
The princess addressed the Master of the Horse. ´Could you show me where Her Majesty hides her motor cycle, baron?´
´Of course Your Highness. If you would follow me?´
´My my,´ the princess said when standing in front of the bike. ´Her Majesty knows what to buy doesn't she?´
The gentlemen refrained from commenting.
´Thank you for showing me the horse powers, baron.´
The princess greeted the nobleman and asked Joe if he planned to walk to the Castle. On his affirmative reply, she suggested she'd accompany him.
Naturally he didn't object and he offered to carry the bag she picked up.
´It is not heavy Mr Romero.´
´Nonetheless, I will be my pleasure to relieve you from it.´
She handed him the luggage.
The princess must be stronger than she looked like for Joe thought that if not very heavy, the bag wasn't light either.
While Her Highness delighted in the sight of white, yellow and purple crocuses, Joe made small talk. Lifting the bag he said: ´Her Majesty had hoped you would bring her bestonye cookies.´
´Bastogne,´ the princess corrected him. Her teasing eyes reminded Joe of the Queen her mother.
´You are not wrong in thinking that I have imported cookies Mr Romero,´ the princess continued, ´They have already been sent to the kitchen. This bag contains another item Her Majesty desperately needed: her hand tailored motor suit.´
A muscle near Joe's right eye began to twitch. The princess made a mental note to buy her mother the chocolate she had just won.
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The Queen smiled happily while hugging her best friend's daughter.
´Joseph welcomed you on my behalf I am sure?´
´He had every intention to do so, but I arrived horribly early. We met at the stables.´
Joe apologised again, this time to his Queen.
´You have a marvellous bike aunt Clarisse,´ the princess told her.
The Queen smiled proudly: ´It is a beauty isn't it? Did you...´
The princess pointed at the bag in Joe's hand: ´There it is.´
´Excellent. Could you have it brought to my suite Joseph?´
Joe inclined his head and privately decided that there was no need to have a footman deliver the bag to Her Majesty's suite. He would do it himself.
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Joe was one of few who was allowed to enter Her Majesty's suite but he didn't walk into it often. And only once had he entered her bedroom.
It had been on the day of King Rupert's funeral. When she'd entered the corridor to her suite, late in the evening, she had missed her footing and she hadn't objected when he'd slipped his arm around her shoulders to steady her. He had supported her all the way to her bed, where he had left her, after covering her with a quilt. He had been completely focussed on her and he only had a faint recollection of her bedroom. Elegant, warm, rich.
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It really wouldn't do if he would just leave the bag near the door would it? She might stumble over it. He'd bring it to her dressing room. Walking through the bedroom Joe registered more of the surroundings than he had on first entering it, but he felt awkward and he used the door to the dressing room as a beacon. He was just about to drop the bag there, both disappointed and relieved that the doors of the closets were closed, when it occurred to him that Her Royal Highness might want the bag back.
Neither the Queen nor the princess had mentioned it, but it had naturally slipped their minds when they had greeted each other. He unzipped the bag and inhaled. Leather.
This is not right Joe. You have every intention of preventing her from riding that damn bike and if your scheming works, she'll never wear her suit.
You're right, Joe told his conscience and he zipped the bag. Along with a finger.
´Ay!´
Serves you right, Conscience Joe remarked. You don't have a problem with the prince riding a bike, now do you?
Had I been a head of security all those years ago, Joe replied, I might have opposed to him riding a motor cycle.
Liar! You're a biker yourself. You would never have objected to a young man driving a bike.
Stepping out of the Queen's suite Joe was pleased with himself for not having looked at her motor suit.
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Unfortunately for Joe dress maids don't feel uncomfortable handling clothes. At tea time there was a sudden silence in all conversations going on in the kitchen except for the one between Mrs Fabrice, the housekeeper, and Rebecca, the Queen's second dress maid.
´... always tries to hide it, you know, wearing coats to cover...you know. However, her motor suit must fit like a second - ´
´Motor suit?´ Mrs Danieli eagerly asked, ´The Queen's motor suit?´
Rebecca nodded.
´Tell me! How does it look like?´
Joe quickly asked his neighbour whether he agreed that Mateo Fernandez was very talented. Luck wasn't with Joe. His neighbour was Mr Jonas who didn't enter into an enthusiastic and loud conversation but merely said: ´Who?´
´- lines on it. I think they reflect light,´ Rebecca said. She pointed from her armpits to her waist. ´Here and also here,´ she explained, indicating a line from her shoulders over her breasts and down. ´And it is made of the finest softest leather. Even Miss Breton had to admit that the material was first class.´
´Of course!´ the cook responded.
´He's a Genovian football player who plays for Aalborg BK but he got an offer from Feyenoord to come to Rotterdam,´ Joe explained for Mr Jonas's benefit.
Out of politeness the courtier, who wouldn't even recognise Maradona, asked the head of security if the football player would accept the offer. Joe replied that Aalborg didn't want the contract to be broken. A contract! This aroused the legal advisor's interest. His lecture about footballers, clubs and modern slavery found a willing ear in the head of security, who heard nearly nothing about Queens, bikes and motor suits. When the legal advisor concluded his tale, people talked about whether or not prince Philippe would marry princess Emma.
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Later that day Joe was summoned to the Queen's office.
´I realise it is short notice Joseph but I want to go riding with my son and princess Emma tomorrow morning. Can you arrange for that to happen?´
She was busy signing papers. When her bodyguard didn't reply, she looked up, removing her glasses.
´Joseph?´
His eloquence in explaining why it could not be arranged was worth a nobler cause and at last the Queen gave in.
After promising her that he would take measures to allow her to ride her motor cycle as soon as possible, Joe left.
You could very well have arranged everything from the moment you heard the prince talk to her in the stables. That was weeks ago, Conscience Joe said.
I thought he was joking, Joe answered.
No you didn't!
And she could have told me before.
You're the head of security! You should be ahead of things!
The prince's guards know what to do and the princess has her own men to protect her but Iglesias and Capras haven't got a clue. Not on a bike. They need to be trained first.
Huh!
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When princess Emma switched off the light that evening someone started drilling between her eyes. She laid down on her bed, hoping it would pass. It usually did. It had to: she looked forward to the ride.