Chapter 8 #2
Francis was new to the joys of cats clambering over him and being playful. His friend, Hasim, less so, and grunted a few times with annoyance, though that only amused Francis further when the cats ignored his grunts.
One of the ever-present cat attendants came to their rescue, setting down a few small dishes of meat cuts to keep the cats busy.
“Eat,” Hasim urged. “While they are distracted.”
Francis didn’t mind the distractions, but he was hungry.
He ate the delicious food: the exotic fruits, the small cubes of salty white cheese that crumbled in the mouth, the delicate cuts of spiced meat, and the exquisite tear and share bread.
He drank plenty of the chai, arriving on a silver tray in tiny glass cups, sweetened with sugar lumps.
Everything was without fuss and ceremony, just the way Francis liked it.
Hasim passed more plates of fruit to Francis, and cut open a fig for him to try.
Francis hadn’t dined so closely with one man like this in a long time. They weren’t touching, but they sat almost close enough to, and there were many moments of gazes meeting and shared smiles.
Like a newly flowering bud, Francis realised this new friendship was off to a promising start.
That was, until a palace guard interrupted things.
The guard hurried into the pavilion, where he was met at once by the cat attendants. Hushed whispers were exchanged, along with glances sent his and Hasim’s way.
“Sorun nedir?” Hasim called over to them.
One of the attendants approached them, pink robes swishing around her legs.
“Ba?islayin, efendim.” She stopped and ducked her chin in a polite head bow, then continued speaking in Turkish which Francis didn’t understand.
Hasim answered, and the two had a quick discussion with urgent words.
“I’m sorry,” Francis interjected. “Is anything the matter?”
Hasim turned to him. “One of the visitors has gone missing. An important one.”
“Oh, dear,” Francis said, hoping it wasn’t himself. “Well, he couldn’t have gone far?”
The attended spoke again, gesturing to Francis.
Hasim nodded. “Whose party did you arrive with?” he asked Francis.
“Oh, I am with…the Stormburg party,” Francis replied.
“Yes, that is who’s missing,” Hasim told him. “Your prince is missing.”
Francis opened his mouth to assure Hasim that he was not missing, then paused.
He would feel rather embarrassed to come clean now, and in the heat of the moment Francis made a decision to continue the ruse.
“Oh, what a damned pain,” he said. “I had better go assist in finding the prince.”
Supper was over.
Francis set down his plate and got to his feet. Hasim hurriedly got to his feet also.
“Thank you very much for your hospitality today, Hasim,” Francis said, extending his hand.
Hasim took his hand, then firmly pulled Francis in and kissed both his cheeks.
Francis tried not to appear too shocked; he had glimpsed this type of greeting among the locals here. This was customary, and yet…
And yet, a thrill shot through him at the contact.
Francis smiled bashfully.
“Farewell,” he said.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” Hasim said.
Francis had been avoiding that. Well, it was unlikely he’d ever see Hasim again, which was a pity. He would never know.
“Archie,” Francis said. “Equerry to Prince Francis Sachs-Stormburg.”
Hasim smiled and bowed his head. “Thank you for your company, Archie.”
Francis immediately felt bad about the lie, but what was he supposed to do? If he’d told Hasim that he was a prince, it would have set an imbalance to their friendship. Hasim would have treated him differently, and Francis didn’t want that.
It was nice to not be royalty, even for only a day.
“I bid you goodnight, my friend,” Francis said in parting. “Please give my fond farewells to the cats.”
Hasim chuckled. “I will. Hosca kal!”
“Adieu,” Francis said, then hurried after the servant in pink robes.
They dashed through the gardens toward the palace, her in bare feet and Francis in slippers.
They surprised a few lounging cats, who woke up and craned their heads to watch them run past.
Holding the bundles of her robes in hand, she led him through short cuts and secret passageways, until they were at a secluded courtyard in the palace itself.
There, she drew the attention of a guard, speaking hurriedly and gesturing to Francis. The guard nodded, and took over the escort, leading Francis inside.
Francis hadn’t meant to cause a stir. He only hoped it had been kept low key. He did hate a fuss.
Upon their arrival into the side hall, Francis spotted Maddie and Christian up ahead.
“Thank you,” he told the guard. “I shall take it from here.”
The guard nodded and turned away. Francis took a breath, then walked toward his friends.
“Look, there he is!” Christian said to Maddie, and they both hastened at once to Francis’s side.
Francis barely got out a hello before they demanded to know where he’d been.
“You had us worried!” Christian said. “Gustav and Archie are both in a panic.”
“We thought something had happened to you,” Maddie said. “Where have you been?”
“I was taking in the grounds,” Francis said. “I’m quite capable of managing myself, I assure you.”
“There you are!” Archie materialised beside them, a half-eaten fruit tart in hand. “We’ve been searching everywhere.”
“And I was just saying there was no need,” Francis told him. “I merely took some time to myself from the ritual humiliation of competing in these ridiculous games for the favour of a man I’ve yet to lay eyes on.”
Christian and Archie looked taken aback, as it was rare that Francis spoke to them so.
“Oh, speaking of which,” Maddie said, ignoring Francis’s bad mood, “The king should be making an appearance at supper tonight. You need to get changed and make an appearance yourself.”
“I’ve already eaten,” Francis said, wishing he were still with Hasim and the cats.
The last thing he wanted to do was ruin his marvellous day by sitting through an elaborate state dinner, surrounded by the same rivals who beat the stuffing out of him yesterday, all while the king sat secluded behind a screen.
“But you must go,” Maddie said. “Queen Maria wants you to compete, Francis.”
“Well, things have changed,” Francis said firmly, looking between his companions. His eyes fell upon that half-eaten tart in Archie’s hand.
It was clear this was merely a holiday for them.
Well, now Francis had had a taste of what it was like not being the star of the show, he had an idea.
“In fact,” he said, smiling devilishly, “I have a way to stay in the running while taking some time off to recover from my injuries.”
“Injuries?” Archie scoffed. “A few bruises, old sport.”
Francis fixed him with a look. “Archie, how many duels have you fought? Off the record?”
“Off the record? Hm.” Archie took a bite of his tart and chewed thoughtfully. “One or two.”
Christian scoffed. “More like three or four.”
“At least five, I’d say,” Maddie said.
“And how many times have I acted as your second?” Francis asked him. “Off the record.”
Maddie gasped. “Francis! If your family found out…”
“Maddie, I can assure you they know, and don’t care,” Francis told her. He wasn’t an heir, he was expendable.
Archie cleared his throat. “A couple of times, I dare say.”
“Three.” Francis looked at his friend. “Three times I acted as your second. There would’ve been a fourth had the last fellow who challenged you hadn’t fallen down drunk first.”
Archie chuckled at the memory. “Yes, yes. What’s your point, sir?”
“I need you to act as my second now,” Francis told him. “Be me. Stand in my place. Go to dinner. Play the games tomorrow. Keep me in the running.”
“You want me to be you?” Archie said.
“We look fairly similar,” Francis said. “Many mistake us as brothers, so you could easily pass as me.”
“Minus the eye patch,” Christian pointed out.
“I could remove it,” Archie said.
“No need to,” Francis said. “From this moment on, you are Prince Francis.”
“But are you allowed to do this, Francis?” Maddie asked.
“Frankly, I don’t care,” Francis told them. “I will do what I wish for once. And what I do not wish is to participate in this tournament a moment longer. I dare say Archie will fare better than I have and win me a better placement. Isn’t that the goal, after all?”
Maddie, Archie and Christian all exchanged looks and nods.
“I would fare better,” Archie boasted. “These stuff shirts won’t know what’s hit them.”
Christian looked pained. “Francis, are you sure about this? What if he makes a fateful blunder? You know how he is.”
“You two must oversee that he does not,” Francis replied. “Have Gustav assist you. Besides, I’m not worried. Archie can charm his way out of most blunders.”
Archie grinned. “It’s true, I can.”
“Right, then, that’s settled.” Francis smiled at them. “You all go off to supper. My second, third and fourth. Inform Gustav for me. I shall retire for the evening. I bid you goodnight.”
And before they had a chance to change their minds, Francis walked away.