But while it was entertaining to goad her brother Catherine was surprised to find that she felt disappointed her future husband wasn’t there to greet her.
A walkway had been set up to the shore, and the ship’s captain and two of his officers saluted smartly as a man dressed in Brigantine style stepped aboard and bowed deeply.
“Sir Rowland Hooper, Your Highness. His Majesty’s ambassador to Pitoria.” He smiled at Catherine. “I hope you have had a good journey.”
“I’m afraid I’m not suited to sea travel.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you’ll need to make another such journey again. Pitoria is your home now.”
“Indeed.” Catherine didn’t bother to smile.
“Where’s Prince Tzsayn?” interrupted Boris. “He’s supposed to be here.”
“Prince Tzsayn asked me to send his apologies. He is slightly unwell and has decided to remain in Tornia, to ensure he is fully recovered for the wedding ceremony.”
“Slightly unwell!” Boris snarled. “Couldn’t be bothered to ride for a few days to meet his wife, more like.”
Catherine’s face tightened. Did he really care so little for her? It hardly boded well for their future life together.
Sir Rowland smiled apologetically. “Instead, Prince Tzsayn has arranged for Princess Catherine to make a progress to Tornia that takes in the key towns along the route. With the prince unwell, it seemed the best option.”
Boris seethed. “This is not what we had agreed. We agreed to go straight to the castle. We agreed he would have all the lords of Pitoria there.”
“And that will happen, Your Highness,” said Sir Rowland soothingly. “The lords will all be there when we arrive. I can assure you no one will be missing that day or the wedding itself. There is much excitement about it. But first there are dignitaries on shore to whom I should introduce you, and then we will begin our progress to the capital, through the most beautiful countryside. It’s almost a match for Brigant.”
Catherine straightened her back. Whatever the real reason for Prince Tzsayn’s absence, she would have to take this as an opportunity. Boris couldn’t lock her in her cabin anymore. This was her chance to make an impression. Before her own wedding, Queen Valeria had made a progress through Illast, which drew the crowds and the people to her. Catherine was going to make sure she was seen and make sure people talked about her.
“It will be a wonderful opportunity to see the country. We should have festivities organized for each evening,” Catherine said.
Sir Rowland turned to her. “An excellent suggestion, Your Highness. The Pitorians love a party. They will be glad to celebrate your arrival.” Sir Rowland looked to the shore. “Oh. The dancing has already begun. It’s a demonstration for your entertainment.”
Catherine could see a group of men leaping around, more like acrobats than dancers. She smiled. “I’ve heard that the men of Pitoria love to dance. Such a refreshing change from hunting or jousting.”
“They use dance to show their athleticism and power. It is remarkably skillful. I can arrange for your men to have lessons, if they desire.”
Catherine beamed. “What a delightful suggestion! I would love my brother to experience that.”
Boris was making a strange face. “That won’t be necessary.”
“You’re an accomplished dancer already, Your Highness?” Sir Rowland asked.
“As accomplished as a man needs to be, which is to say not accomplished at all, sir.”
Sir Rowland bowed his head, but Catherine could see he was smiling. When he looked up again, though, his face was blank. “So. We should be getting on with it.” He gestured toward the dancers. “Shall we brave them?”
Catherine felt a small smile creep to her lips. She hadn’t ever imagined enjoying her arrival in Pitoria, but now she began to realize it might even be fun. She followed the ambassador and Boris ashore, Noyes and her maids following behind. Catherine was alarmed to find that stepping ashore felt like walking across a swaying bridge. She wobbled and Sarah took her arm, but Catherine freed herself gently. Noyes saw every little weakness, and she was determined to show him none.
Catherine was introduced to a series of people in a flurry of smiling, bowing, and curtsying. What struck her was how different everyone seemed. Everyone in Brigant was pale-skinned and light-haired, but here skin colors ranged from black, brown, and gold tan to white, and hair was quite literally all the colors of the rainbow.
She was able to put faces to many of the names she had learned before her journey: Lord Quarl, one of King Arell’s counselors; Lord Serrensen, a distant cousin of the king; and Lord Farrow, the local magnate, who guided her into a carriage with Sir Rowland and Sarah for the next leg of her journey. Boris, Noyes, and their men were already mounted, their horses having traveled ahead. Catherine had to admit Boris’s men looked impressive, their armor shining brightly in the sun.
Ahead of her carriage rode ten other men on horseback, each carrying a long spear with a gleaming silver head and a green pennant below it. Most remarkably, the green of the pennant matched the green of each man’s hair, which was cut short at the back and sides but left long on top. Catherine had read that men showed allegiance to their leaders through their hair color, but knowing it and seeing it were two very different things. The green exactly matched the badge Lord Farrow wore on his jacket.
“You’ve spotted Lord Farrow’s green,” Sir Rowland commented.
“It’s very noticeable, sir. I had heard of the hair coloring, but it’s rather more dramatic than I imagined.”
“You know the origin of the tradition?” asked Sir Rowland. “The dye is to ensure the men don’t switch sides mid-battle, which happened in the wars with Illast over a century ago. Of course no one is going into battle now.”
“Though Brigantine soldiers on our land is hardly a reassuring sight,” said Lord Farrow shortly.
Catherine shifted in her seat. It seemed Sir Rowland had been exaggerating when he said that everyone was delighted to see her . . .
Noting her embarrassment, the ambassador tried to smooth things by saying, “The green of Lord Farrow is much admired. Though I’m sure that’s not the only reason men wish to join your ranks, my lord.”
“My ranks are always full and my men are the best,” Farrow replied, looking at Catherine.
“Better even than Prince Tzsayn’s?” Catherine asked pleasantly.
Lord Farrow’s face turned sour. “The prince, of course, has excellent troops.”
“His blue is admired by all,” purred Sir Rowland.
Thankfully the clatter of the horses’ hooves along the cobbled streets was loud enough to halt the conversation, allowing Catherine to put aside Lord Farrow’s barbs for a while and take in her surroundings.
The buildings were taller and narrower than in Brigant, and the people dressed more brightly. It looked to be a clean and well-cared-for place. As the parade of soldiers and carriages passed, people came out of buildings and even hung out of windows to see what was happening. Many waved and smiled, but a few merely stood and stared at the Brigantine soldiers.
The town soon gave way to countryside, where there were fewer people as they passed through green fields and orchards full of blossom. The carriage ride lasted until the late afternoon. At Lord Farrow’s vast home, Catherine was treated politely enough, given beautiful rooms, a bath, and privacy but little time to enjoy them, as that evening there was a reception at which she was the guest of honor.
As Sarah laid out her Pitorian dresses, Catherine realized she disliked them as much as ever; they were unstructured and revealing. She much preferred her corseted Brigantine evening gown, a silver-gray dress with embroidery and pearls at the cuffs and neck. She tried the necklace her father had given her, though it didn’t sit properly over her dress, so she didn’t keep it on. She had her maids pin up her hair, curled in the simple style she was used to.