Chapter 47
All’s Well That Ends Well

The palace windows were opened wide to clear the air. The harbor helped, sending a breeze that swept away the nightly fog for the first time in memory. In the banquet hall, the Pandolinis and their bears performed their finest circus ever under the light of a thousand lamps and candelabra.

Archduke Fredrick had ceded the seats of honor to Hans and Angela. They sat together at the center of the great table with all their friends and family. On Hans’ right, his two fathers, Fredrick and Knobbe, chatted together with the former hermits. On his left, Angela reunited with her parents and Nurse in the company of Tomas and his fellows; Nurse moved to Knobbe’s side sometime before dessert. Angela smiled: Nurse had a need to teach the social graces, and in Knobbe she’d have her most challenging pupil yet.

“You found my son, Johannes, and named him Hans,” Fredrick said to Knobbe. “A different form of the same name.”

Knobbe scratched his ear. “Sure, our names and deeds be written in the stars.”

Fredrick smiled. “Or in our hopes and dreams.”

A paw de trois from the dancing bears led to a standing ovation.

Fredrick rose and addressed the Pandolinis. “In gratitude for your service, remain as our privileged guests for as long as you desire.”

“Grazie.” Pandolini bowed. “Yet we are wanted home to the court of Venice. The Doge has held concerns about his neighbor, Waldland, and will be pleased by our report that all is well.”

Fredrick raised a friendly eyebrow. “You’re close with the Doge?”

“People see what they expect,” the showman winked. “Poor circus folk look alike to the world. We can come and go like hermits.”

“Then give our best to your Venetian lord,” Fredrick declared. “We shall send you safe by royal escort.” He turned to Tomas. “As for you, Tomas Bundt, lawless highwayman and thief . . .”

Tomas cowered.

“The archduchy is in your debt. A full pardon to you and your men.”

Tomas was so relieved he fell back against his friends.

“Stand tall,” Fredrick ordered. “Our new poet laureate and his court musicians must have their heads high above the clouds.”

“Poet laureate?” Tomas hopped to his feet in disbelief.

“Court musicians?” chorused his men.

“Indeed,” Hans said. “Who but an Artist and Poet Extraordinaire can pen the sagas of our land? And who better to set those poems to song?”

With a great cheer, Tomas was hoisted high.

The archduke’s eyes fell next on the grave robber. He drew his sword. “On your knees.”

Knobbe dropped to the floor in terror.

Fredrick placed the blade on Knobbe’s right shoulder. “Who but a plucky grave robber should guard the royal catacombs?” he asked. “Rise and henceforth be known as Sir Knobbe the Bent, Keeper of the Crypt.”

Knobbe forgot himself. He bounced to his feet in joy, planted a kiss on the archduke’s cheek, hugged Hans, and took Nurse for a spin around the room to applause and laughter.

“There’s yet one thing you’ve forgotten, Father,” Hans said. “Our land has suffered under the weight of what is. We need a glimpse of what might be. I propose that a court theater be built where we can see our stories on the stage, and imagine better endings than have ever been.”

“And who should run this theater?” Fredrick asked.

Hans turned to Angela. “Only the finest, bravest soul in the whole archduchy. The Countess Angela Gabriela von Schwanenberg: the first who dared to challenge the usurper; who risked her life to save her parents; and in whose service, and by whose light, I grew to be your son.”

Angela blushed.

Fredrick turned to the count and countess. “Has Angela your blessing to live at court?”

They hesitated.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, it’s not as if I can get into any more mischief than I already have.”

“True,” her parents laughed. “With Nurse as your chaperone, we’re agreed.”

The hall erupted in revelry. Hans and Angela slipped out onto a balcony to enjoy the night sky. The young prince glanced shyly at Angela. “It’s been a grand adventure.”

“Indeed,” she teased. “You’ve done quite well for a servant.”

“And you for a witch,” he teased back. He took her hand. They gazed at the heavens.

Angela rested her head on his shoulder. “I love happy endings,” she sighed.

“Then just for you,” Hans smiled, “I’ll take my cue and say, ‘The End.’”