“Philip finally saw reason. The Church then decreed that all royal marriages must be sanctioned by them for the greater good of Moldavia. Much chastised, Philip passed the law. It has never been revoked.”
Just when I thought we were going to be so happy . . .
There’s a roaring in my ears. I knew it. Alex and I are never, ever destined to be together.
I find my voice, broken as it is. “Wh-what happened to Philip and the count’s daughter?”
“Philip took her as his mistress against Celeste’s wishes. They had many children together. But no, they never formally married.”
Is that to be my fate?
Alex’s shoulders are tense. He seizes my arms. “Liz, listen to me. I won’t let a stupid obscure law made in the sixteenth f**king century to make me rescind my proposal to you.”
“But how? I don’t want you to go against the church.”
“If that’s what I have to do, I’ll do it.”
This is all going wrong, wrong, wrong. It’s a big step to go against the head of the church, even if you’re King. Tatiana was right. None of this would have happened if Alex just toed the line and married her instead, as intended. Now everyone is in a conspiracy against us. There’s much, much more at stake than them merely not wanting Alex to marry a former hotel maid.
Alex says grimly, “I’ll get it sorted out. I’ll have to see the Archbishop.”
I bite my lower lip. “Are you close to him?”
“Uh, no. He never liked me much. He’s Marie’s godfather. He thinks she would make a much better monarch than I ever would.”
Oh.
Alex clasps my shoulders. “Let me take care of it, Liz.”
He hugs me.
I let myself be hugged.
9
I wait anxiously for Alex to return from his meeting with the Archbishop. The TV is on. The newscaster is speaking in French, but I am able to grasp the proceedings now.
The scene on the TV is one of marching protest. University students have taken to the streets against the Archbishop’s declaration.
The newscaster, a dignified man in his fifties, says, “The streets of Moldavia have been turned into mayhem as protestors burn effigies of the Archbishop. King Alexander Vassar and Elizabeth Turner are exceedingly popular with the young people.”
Cut scene to a student protestor being interviewed.
She says into the microphone: “It’s stupid. The Archbishop says he won’t sanction Alexander’s marriage to a common American and the only reason he gives is that it goes against what the old King would have wanted. Come on. I mean no disrespect, but the man is dead! Alexander has to move on. Has the Archbishop even met Elizabeth Turner?”
“Yes,” her friend remarks. “I say let true love rule, not some stupid historical law that no one in this century even remembers.”
I do so agree.
I switch channels. A talk show is going on. A famous Moldavian politician is on air.
He says, “It seems that King Alexander and Elizabeth Turner have the popular backing in this issue.”
The host asks, “So do you think the Archbishop will be swayed by the popular tide? Even the world press has chimed in with their views. The church has already lost ground. Attendance is at an all time low. The Vatican is concerned that youths around the world might turn away from religion because it is deemed outdated in its views.”
“That true love doesn’t triumph all the time?”
“That true love cannot reverse historical tradition.”
“The Archbishop has always openly disapproved of King Alexander’s former lifestyle. He has been quoted before as saying it was ‘godless’. So it comes as no surprise that he is against this marriage, especially since Lady Tatiana has donated much to the churches of Nuernberg and Moldavia.”
“Yes, her father is building a new cathedral. What do you think of this whole matter, Monsieur Flaubert?”
The politician hesitates. “It is tempting to give in to the popular vote. However, it would mean flaunting six hundred years of tradition. Are laws to be repealed simply because a new monarch doesn’t like them? King Henry VIII separated the Church of England from Rome for that very reason. But we are no longer in the sixteenth century.”
“Indeed. Big debates are opening up all over the world on this.”
The door whines open. I jump. Alex comes in, looking tired. From his grave features, I know that he has been unsuccessful in swaying the Archbishop.
“No luck?” I say.
He shakes his head. “He says it’s not what my father would have wanted.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. I know for a fact that is true.
“But I see the hand of my mother in this. Not only my mother, but Nuernberg. They intend to push us into a corner.”
He gazes at the images onscreen, his eyes glazing. More student marches are being held.
He says, “This is not what I want Moldavia to become. I don’t want the people to go against the church.”
“Can you try to talk to him again?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve talked to my mother, Liz. She is completely on the Archbishop’s side. That’s why she was so calm when I announced my intent to marry you earlier. She knew this would happen.” His voice turns bitter. “In fact, I think she orchestrated it.”
I am not surprised.
I remain silent, my mind churning with possibilities.
“They are pushing us into a corner, Liz. Everywhere we turn, they put obstacles in our path. There’s too much at stake for everyone where Nuernberg is concerned. They are determined to make us jump through hoops until I do what they want.”
His face is anguished as he turns to look at me.
“Even though I am King, they intend to make me their pawn. When will it end?”
My gut wrenches painfully.
We were so happy . . . so happy.
I close my eyes.
I know what I must do, and I’m not going to involve Alex.
*
The Archbishop agrees to meet me in his private quarters in the Ecclesiastical Castle. Everything is Spartan there. There is no fire in the fireplace, even though it is winter. The coals have not been stoked. The furniture is made out of hard wood as though to drum penitence into those who choose to occupy these chambers.
Oh no, I think. He is a hard man. He won’t be easy to sway.
He is as stern-looking as I remember him. He does not smile as he gets to his feet.
“Ms. Turner?” His accent is heavily French.
“Your Grace.” I curtsey.