‘Giles,’ he gasped out at last, ‘I come to beg of you the greatest thing I have ever asked of any man—the most sacred task your service to me has ever been called upon to carry out. The Countess Barbara has disappeared, gone!—And you must find her. You must, you must.’
He moved a step nearer and his clenched hands rose trembling in the air above his head. The Queen glanced nervously towards the door as his words grew louder.
‘She’s gone, Giles!’ The King’s voice broke down again to a choking whisper. ‘You must find her for me.—Find her and bring her back!’
7 The great quest
And so Sir Giles Waggonwright, the King’s Finder, set forth alone to seek the King’s bride. His only companion was the horse he rode, Midnight. The famous black mare was older now, but as clever, as gentle, as sure-footed as ever; and her master could have asked for no better company to suit his mood today.
Not only was this task that lay ahead the greatest the King had ever given him; it was also the most difficult. He had nothing whatever to guide him in his search. All he knew was that the Countess Barbara had disappeared and left no trace behind her.
Before leaving the castle he had questioned the Queen Mother—also his own sister, who had been the last to see the Countess in the palace. Anne slept in the room next to Barbara’s and had said good night to her when they both retired at ten o’clock. About half an hour later, she told her brother, a strong wind had begun to blow; and fearing the rattling windows might wake the Countess, she had gone into the next room. She found it empty, the bed not slept in, and no trace of Barbara anywhere.
When the Queen Mother had been told of this, she and the King had made a more thorough search to see if anything could be discovered that would help to solve the mystery. This was done with great secrecy; because the Queen was most anxious that the guests invited to the wedding should suspect nothing until the news could no longer be kept from them. Barbara’s father, the Commander of the Scottish Archers, had been asked if he knew any cause or reason for so strange a business. But the poor man, almost crazed with grief, was just as puzzled as the King over his daughter’s disappearance.
There were thus only five people in the palace who as yet knew; and they were of course terrified that some harm had come to the missing girl. All sorts of guesses were made as to what had become of her, but not one that brought any help or light or satisfaction. It was the King’s opinion that she had been kidnapped—perhaps through a false message or some other means planned to lure her away beyond the castle walls; from there she could have been carried off swiftly, leaving no trace.
There was no one that the King could suspect directly of such a deed. But there were among his guests foreign kings and princes who had in former times been at war with his father. And it was possible that some one of them might have arranged the matter—helped by friends or retainers from outside—without appearing to have anything to do with it. To any bearing malice or envy against him, this would seem a sure way to bring ridicule or disgrace upon a great monarch: by taking his bride from his castle on the eve of the wedding.