After the meal the King put on a Turkish fez hat and brought out a huge pipe and then he started to drink Akvavit while Louise watched his glass speculatively so that Alix knew she was wondering how much more he was going to drink and whether they would have enough to satisfy him and how they were going to afford to replenish their stocks in anticipation of his next visit.

Uncle Frederick liked to talk about the Schleswig-Holstein war which he had successfully waged and he would call the children round him and while he puffed at his great pipe and sipped his Akvavit he would talk of the war and how he had led his men into fantastic adventures.

The more Akvavit he drank the more fantastic would the adventures become. The Countess would yawn, drink her brandy, calculate the value of the furnishings of Bernstorff and clearly be waiting for the time when Uncle Frederick would be ready to depart.

The boys would laugh at these strange adventures, but they had been warned not to show that they did not believe them; Uncle Frederick was the King of Denmark and as such must be respected.

Alix was fond of him because in spite of all the wild stories – which were untruths – he was kind and wanted to see them all enjoying themselves. He loved to hear them laugh and of course they owed a great deal to him.

He was always particularly interested in Fredy who would one day be King of Denmark too. Oh, Fredy, Alix thought, don’t get fat and wear a fez and tell outrageous stories which no one believes, and marry a woman like Countess Danner whatever you do. As if he would! Fredy was going to be tall and blond like the rest of the family. He would not be a bit like King Frederick.

And soon they would be back in the Yellow Palace and life would go on in this pleasant happy fashion.

Oh, how glad I am that Papa did not marry the Queen of England, she thought.


* * *

One day Prince Christian summoned the children together and told them that he had invited a very special guest.

Alix at first wondered if it could be the Queen of England of whom she had thought a great deal since her father had told her he might have married her. But it was not the Queen but a man.

‘He’s a story-teller,’ said their father, ‘and you have read and loved some of his stories, I know. His name is Hans Christian Andersen.’

The children chattered together. ‘There was the ugly duckling who turned into a swan and the little mermaid. Yes, they did know his stories. Was he coming to tell them stories?’

‘He is coming because we are going to honour him. He is a Dane and people all over the world read his stories. We should be proud of such men. You must not forget that one day I shall be King and Fredy here will follow me. It is necessary to encourage people like Hans Christian Andersen and if we invite him here other people will ask him to their houses and it is a way of saying that we appreciate our men of genius.’

The children were overawed and rather silent when the writer was introduced to them, but not for long, because he was quiet and unassuming – and perhaps a little overawed to be in the presence of the future King and his family. But he was soon put at ease by the simplicity of life in the Yellow Palace. There was something childlike about him which made for immediate understanding between himself and the children; and they were happiest when alone with him.

He became a frequent visitor to the Yellow Palace and he would sit in the schoolroom or out of doors if the weather was good and tell them about the days when he was the son of a poor shoemaker. When he wrote a new story he would bring it along to read to the children and they would sit in a circle round him listening entranced.

‘It’s wonderful,’ said Alix to Dagmar, ‘that children all over the world are going to have these stories told to them.’

Dagmar agreed that it was; and when Hans brought his stories in volume form to show them and inscribed a copy especially for them they were very excited.

Christian and Louise looked on benignly at the friendship which had grown between their children and the story writer.

So the days passed – days made enthralling by the storytelling of Hans, and amusing by the same occupation of King Frederick. And how different were those two story-tellers. The Little Mermaid had nothing in common with Uncle Frederick’s wild, military and equally fictitious adventures. Oddly enough, pointed out Alix, while Hans told his stories about people who only lived in his imagination you believed in them, but when Uncle Frederick told stories about himself you did not believe them for one instant.

Such happy days they were. Going for walks along the promenade – the Lange Linie – watching the ships coming in to Copenhagen from all over the world, studying the fashions in the shops, coming home and copying them with just that difference which made them one’s very own; all the excitement of choosing material for a new dress and patterns and accessories, being very cautious that one kept within one’s allowance, taking care of the new dress, changing into something simpler when one came in. Countess Danner didn’t have half as much fun with her elaborate clothes, Alix pointed out to her sisters. And no wonder because they were sometimes very ugly – and it was gratifying that their cheap ones could look so much more elegant. Christmases, birthdays to look forward to and with two boys and three girls there was always some celebration about to burst upon them. There were gymnasium lessons with Papa, music and languages with Mama; other more mundane subjects with governesses.

The summers at Rumpenheim with the cousins and aunts were becoming more and more interesting as they grew older. There were little dances for the family and the few friends from the neighbourhood who were invited; there were river picnics and trips to Frankfurt, and of course, animated and interesting conversation.

Then Bernstorff – that beautiful castle – which it was thrilling to approach along the avenue of trees; it was a little like Rumpenheim but more comfortable in a way because it was the family home – and it had the advantage of being only ten miles from Copenhagen so one was not really cut off from that beloved city. At Bernstorff there was more of a holiday atmosphere than at the Yellow Palace, though Prince Christian insisted that they all rose very early in the morning – the best time of the day, he was fond of saying. They had coffee and rolls and then were out in the nearby woods walking, riding or playing with the dogs, of which there were many. Their father would come out of the palace when it was time for déjeuner and give a piercing whistle and when they heard it they must all leave what they were doing and run into the castle. His only real displeasure was if they were late. Then lessons would begin and after that perhaps a ride.

They must not be late for dinner which was served at four in the afternoon. If it was a fine day they would be out in the garden again where coffee would be served, or if it were cold this would be taken round the fire. Then they would read together. The girls would do needlework or go and gather flowers and arrange them. Louise was very fond of flowers and her arrangements were exquisite. Alix and Dagmar and even little Thyra had to learn to arrange them. The scent of these flowers permeated the castle and as soon as any showed the slightest sign of decay it must be removed. Each of the girls had her own little domain, for which she was responsible, and Louise would inspect their arrangements and the fresh state of the flowers every day. She was determined that her family should be brought up in a manner suited to their state and the fact that they were poor was a challenge to her.

Life was not entirely confined to the home either. There was regular attendance at the Lutheran church at Gjentofte and the villagers would gaze in awe at their future King and Queen with their good-looking family. The young people had to learn how to accept this homage with gracious diffidence which was neither indifferent nor patronising. In fact they must accept it as natural without seeming to be aware of it. Louise would drive into the village with gifts for the poor – which the family could ill afford; and then again they must exercise that peculiar royal behaviour which because their father was destined to be King and their mother Queen was necessary.

And then … home to the best-loved place of all – though by no means the grandest – the dear Yellow Palace with its little rooms and winding passages which was Home.

Who would have thought this happy life would not go on for ever.


* * *

Louise was waiting impatiently for her husband’s return from the barracks. When reading the English papers which she did whenever possible to improve her knowledge of the language she had found something of great interest in The Times.

The Prince of Wales was nearly seventeen, and as it was the custom of royalty to marry early, there was a great deal of speculation as to whom this very important young gentleman would choose for his bride.

The article went on that the choice was somewhat limited for His Royal Highness. His bride would be the future Queen of England and therefore some qualifications would be demanded of her which might not be easy to supply. She must be young, for her main duty was to give the country heirs; she must be royal; and she must be Protestant. This narrowed the choice down considerably and the author of the article had, after great consideration, come to the conclusion that there were only seven candidates for the honour.

Six of these were German princesses; the seventh on the list was Princess Alexandra of Denmark.

Louise stared at the letters. Alix, Queen of England! Her common sense immediately rose to the fore. The seventh on the list. What hope had she!

All the same it was something which she must discuss with Christian at once.

When he came in and she was able to show him the article he was startled.

‘Our Alix! Why she’s only a child.’

‘She’s fourteen. Why in two or three years she’ll be ready.’

‘English Princes always marry Germans.’

‘A matter which I believe the English people resent.’

‘The English royal family is half German. Albert was most definitely. And Victoria is half so. Germans always have the first chance.’

Christian was thinking of himself and how he had been overlooked for a Prince of Coburg.

‘It could change.’

‘My dear Louise, Alix is seventh on the list.’

‘Still she’s on the list.’

‘No, it would always be a German.’

‘Look at the list. These German Princesses … who are they? Daughters of small States. Whereas Alix is the daughter of a future King.’

‘You are prejudiced,’ said Christian with a laugh.

‘I’m also realistic,’ said Louise. ‘We are going to be prepared. Our children have not had an education worthy of them so far. All that has to be changed and we are going to change it.’

‘When?’ asked Christian.

‘At once,’ said Louise. ‘There’s no time to be lost.’


* * *

Life had changed suddenly. It had become more serious. Bernstorff and the Yellow Palace appeared to be invaded by an army of teachers. They must spend more time at their lessons, said Louise. They were no longer children – at least Fredy, Willy and Alix weren’t and Dagmar was fast gaining their grown-up status.

Louise always believed in explaining to the children. She herself had taught them music and drawing, but these were the necessary accomplishments of well-brought-up young ladies; they were scarcely lessons. They had had their Swiss governess, Mademoiselle Schwiedland. But now they had to be prepared for whatever role they might be called upon to play in later life.

Pastor Theobold came to teach them German and Professor Petersen history and geography; there was a new music teacher because Louise thought that they should have professional tuition which she feared she did not give them. So Mr Siboni was engaged.

But most important of all was Miss Knudsen, who came to teach English. Mathilde Knudsen was homely, kindly and quiet; she had been born in the West Indies and spoke English as a native of England. Alix’s conversations with Cousin Mary had been of great use to her and she found that she progressed rapidly under Miss Knudsen’s tuition. Her accent improved and although she occasionally used quaint expressions which made Miss Knudsen smile she was undoubtedly fluent.