"Arabian Nights"
Part 84
by Beryll
The warm evening air was filled with the sound of small birds chirping, saying goodnight, of water gently splashing in a fountain nearby, of leaves rustling in the trees in the first cool breeze blowing in over the walls of the secluded garden. The ceaseless chatter of voices, the endless patting of busy feet was blessedly absent.
It was not that Hugo did not enjoy entertaining guests. In fact he enjoyed it tremendously, especially when he was at the centre of attention. But he was just as glad when he finally had his palace back to himself, life returned to the usual, more sedate pace.
Politically his birthday celebrations had been a success.
Many new alliances had been forged, old allegiances renewed. It was a priceless
chance to have all of them in one place - friend and foe alike, and Hugo made
sure he used it every year. His year had been especially important as he had
introduced his new adopted son and heir to his guests.
Some of them had been outraged. A foreigner taking precedence over Hugo's
own flesh and blood. A disgrace. An affront. Hugo had not deemed it necessary
for them to know that he had discussed this with Viggo before he had adopted
the Danish Prince who had so suddenly turned up at his doorstep like a gift
of Allah. They had agreed that the only way to shift attention from Numair
and Kalila to Viggo was if Viggo was heir apparent. Viggo wanted neither the
title nor the role. He would abstain as soon as Numair reached maturity. Viggo's
honor in this was beyond doubt to Hugo.
But nobody else needed to know about this particular part of their plan. After all it would have ruined the whole ruse had it found the wrong ears.
And their plan seemed to be working well, after all it had nearly cost Viggo his life. That whoever their enemy was had access to magic and was willing to use it deeply troubled Hugo but he kept his worries to himself. This was not something to trouble Viggo with. He had talked at length with the Sultan's ambassador about the nature of the attack on Viggo and had been promised that the matter would be looked into by the Sultan's magician. It might be months until he would hear back but Hugo was hoping against hope their unknown opponent would take a while to mount his next attack.
"What troubles you so to crease your brow like this?" a gent voice interrupted his musings.
With a smile Hugo looked at his single guest who was sharing his dinner tonight. All traces of illness and the near fatal brush with Au Nafud's wrath had by now faded from Viggo's features. He was calm, relaxed, and as far as Hugo could tell he was enjoying this quiet dinner as much as the Caliph himself did.
"The past, the future, the usual." Hugo replied with a rueful smile. "I guess a ruler's mind never stills, even with such pleasant company."
Viggo's smile mirrored his own. "Strange you should say that. My father used to say the same when my mother asked this question." He shook his head, his grey eyes full of memories. "I used to think it an excuse but now I think I am beginning to understand how much responsibility can keep you preoccupied. It makes you lose track of the simple matters right in front of you." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I'm not nearly as good at juggling my official duties and my private ones as you or my father."
"You are trying and that is really what counts. We must not always be perfect as long as we strife to be." Hugo said with a reassuring smile. "And you are still young. Don't expect too much of yourself. You have time to grow into your role. As long as you never forget that there are always your friends and advisors to share your burdens you will do well."
Viggo nodded. "Yes, so I was told a few days ago quite sternly by one of my kittens. Sometimes they seem to have more sense than me."
Hugo laughed softly. Viggo was blessed with his kittens indeed. They took good care of him, all of them in their own unique way. He still didn't approve of the fact that Viggo had taken in the young assassin but so far it seemed to work out. With Karl keeping an eye on that dangerous little viper Hugo was sure that Viggo was well protected.
"You should never underestimate them." He told Viggo. "Young minds have a special view on the world, They notice things we overlook too easily."
"I know I am blessed with all their love. Just sometimes I am not sure if I deserve it."
Now Hugo could not suppress a small snicker. "That, my son, is not for you to decide." He picked up a honeyed date and bit into it, savouring the sweet juices. "But speaking of your friends reminds me: That young prince's father… what's his name… Elijah… sends his apologizes for the misbehaving of his other son. I am to tell you that if you require any compensation for the damage done to your kitten he will of course pay it."
Viggo's answer was a soft growl and Hugo grinned. "I thought so. I let him know that we were quite satisfied with the blood of his other son."
He watched with amusement as Viggo busied his hands with tearing apart a grilled chicken leg. His adopted son was quite protective of his kittens. Maybe a little overprotective but that was not a bad trade in a ruler. After all he had to care for all his people.
"Your friend Eric reacted swiftly there. He seems to be a good man." Hugo tried to distract Viggo from his darkening mood. The subject seemed well chosen as Viggo reacted with a smile.
"That he is indeed. I have known him nearly as long as I can think back and he has always been a good friend and a honourable warrior. I wish he could stay. He has more common sense in his small finger than I have in all of me."
Hugo tapped his chin thoughtfully. "The trading agreement he was sent here to talk about is quite lucrative and we discussed building on it. Maybe his king would be interested in sending your friend here as a permanent ambassador?"
"That would be wonderful though I do not know if he wishes to stay. The climate is not at all what we are used to from home and I don't know if he would ever feel at home here. Even when me and Sean are here. But I will ask him." Viggo sighed softly. "Even I miss home often enough. Some thing I will probably never get used to here."
"I understand. It is hard for a tree to grow new roots in such alien soil. Will you tell me a little more about your home?" Hugo asked. "We have hardly had time to talk at leisure lately with all that has been happening. And you do have a gift for telling a story."
Viggo smiled. "You flatter me. But I will try to be as amusing as possible."
It took him a few minutes but then his voice drifted into his storyteller timbre again, his hands alive with wide gestures as he told Hugo of his homelands. Of harsh winters with snowstorms so cold they could suck every bit of warmth from a man's body and leave him frozen. Of hunting in a forest, crystallized with ice, where every tree reflected the sun like it was hung with diamonds. Of great and dangerous bears and fierce wolf packs. Of his father's castle that stood against the encroaching wilderness of the north like a shield bearing guardian of civilisation.
He talked of his family, his brother, all warriors and lords in their own right - and all heroes in the eyes of Viggo, their youngest brother. Of his beautiful sisters and their husbands and children.
He loved all these people dearly, Hugo realized. And he missed them. Still he had never mentioned the wish to go back.
In part it was honour that held him here in the hot south, Hugo knew, the feeling that he owed his life and the firm knowledge that his life shielded the lives of two innocent children. But it was also pride. There was till anger and spite in Viggo's voice when he spoke of his father - a strong and wise man, Hugo thought - who ruled over his family just like he ruled his land - fair but stern and unforgiving. At least that was how Viggo saw him. Hugo silently wondered how much it must have grieved Viggo's father to lose his youngest. How much he probably still worried about his lost son.
He would have to send out a letter to the king and let him know that his son was alive and well, Hugo decided. Viggo need not know about it but it was cruel to leave Viggo's parents unknowing of their son's fate.
The evening grew late but still they sat, not only occasionally nibbling on some pastries. A tale of Viggo about the bandits that often troubled his home had triggered a matching story of Hugo's about the nomad tribes who regularly preyed the caravans crossing what they perceived to be their territory. Generations of Caliph's had tried to subdue them and failed.
"If only we could at least forge an alliance with them." Hugo sighed. "They are fierce warriors, all of them, and they know the desert like no others. They could be a major asset but they refuse to bow to anyone."
Viggo grinned recklessly. "One day I will conquer them for you and make them swear allegiance to you." He promised.
Hugo shook his head with a smile. "The folly of youth." He said. "At your age I swore the same and look how far I have come."
For a while they sat in silence, both sated and food and drink and words.
"I think I should retire now to my bed or my kittens will come looking for me." Viggo said at last.
"So should I or my wives will have my head on a silver platter." Hugo replied, smiling at his adopted son.
Viggo got up and stretched, then bowed and left, wishing Hugo a good night. Watching him go, Hugo silently again thanked Allah for the company and friendship of this honourable man. Then he too retired.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 85