In The East

"Did you tell her everything?”

"Certainly, and now I want you to go and explain yourself to her.”

The prince sighed resignedly, not at all happy.

Who knows why his father had betrayed him so? He wouldn't have expected it, after so many days of friendship and complicity. Why had he brought back that book to his mother’s attention right away? And what mysterious and delicate secrets were written in that book?

"But," the boy observed, as he followed the king's rapid steps along the alley that led to the paved courtyard in front of the main façade and then up the stairs to the first floor, where the reception rooms and the rooms the queen used during the day were located "but I cannot understand: what was so important about that book to provoke all this chaos, to make me worthy of being punished by you and my mother?”

He had spoken in a whisper, almost a whisper, as if he were talking to himself, in a reasoning so complicated that needed to be expressed aloud to be better followed and grasped.

The king turned slightly to look at him and was struck by his son's almost suffering air. His excessive sensitivity irritated him a little and he decided not to answer. But then he realized the child, who was silently racking his brain, was desperately trying to recover his self-esteem and decided to wait for him and take his hand to calm him at least a little.

"You don’t fear your mother is angry at you, right? I said she wasn't happy, not that she wanted to punish you.”

“No, father, but I am so sorry to know that she ... that she is not happy with me. She always says that I am her treasure and that if she didn't have me her days would always be grey and sad. And now ... Oh, father, I'm sorry if I am making her suffer. I'd rather be placed in a dark cell.”

"That is that is best for you” the king said jokingly.

"Yes, but my mother is also best for me.”

"Seriously? And your father?”

Why did he insist on that self-centered question? Perhaps to elicit a little exaggerated and false praise from his son? Perhaps to feel reassured about his paternal role, that in reality for years and years had not worried him at all and that only now he was barely rediscovering?

"I am very happy to be with you, but you are never here, while my mother does not abandon me a second and I can tell her everything.”

"Yes, I believe it.”

"Can't you tell me why me taking that book would have made her unhappy? "the prince again ventured.

"Very well. Sit down for a moment next to me and I'll try to explain it to you. That book was different from the others, because your mother wrote her thoughts, her joys and her unhappiness, her desires, and her regrets in the book. In short, she poured her soul, entrusting it to some poetry and to many long pages of confessions. Do you understand what I mean?”

"I know what a confession is, but my mother isn't bad and doesn't need it.”

“ No, not in the sense that you think; I wanted to say that she wrote the things that buried in her soul and her heart without lies, without fear that someone (maybe me) could read them and maybe scold her. You stole her secrets.”

" But I didn't know ... " the prince stammered.

" Of course; but now I know, and your mother and I have discussed this a lot yesterday evening. I was rude to her because I should not have succumbed to the temptation to read those pages and because I could not hold back my anger .... I made her cry" the king concluded, without having the courage to look at his son, suddenly ashamed before the naivety and sincerity of the child.

" I'm sorry, father. We will try to fix it. We will take care of it.”

" I hope so. I should have come back to her early this morning or stay with her tonight and let her know I was a fool to get carried away by my exaggerated jealousy, but I didn't and now ...”

He didn't add that he really wanted the prince to pay for everyone, because it would have been too much for his pride, but he knew that was what made him feel terribly guilty at that moment.

" Father, you will bring her a rose and you will make her smile. Wait.”

The child ran back, rushing into the garden. He broke a rose sprig, one of the last of the season.

He handed it to his father.

" Give her this. She loves them so much.”

" I'd rather you took it to her. I don't know if I'll go with you.”

" Why not? You don’t want her to be sad like this.”

His son's eyes were full of great wonder that made him smile.

" Okay, okay, you won. Let's go together. Give me that flower.”

Feeling ridiculous, but unable to withdraw under the decisive gaze of the prince, the king approached his queen as an ancient knight who pays homage to the lady with his courtly love and honor, with a rose in his hand and his son at his side.

" Good morning mother “ exclaimed the latter, running towards her to kiss her.

" Good morning, my boy. Was Antonia not able to reach you this morning to get dressed? You look a little messy, " she observed, smiling tenderly at him.

" I got out of the bed like lightning. I was late for my animals. But my father helped me a little.”

The queen looked at her master in surprise and waited for him to say something to relieve her nightly sufferings. Probably, however, he would have not said anything, and she would have had to hide her disappointment at the bottom of her heart, like so many others in the past.

"Your son “ the king said instead " says these roses are your favorites" and clumsily handed her the flower.

" It's true.”

" I'm sorry for the words I spoke last night. Sometimes not even a king can keep his impulses in check.”

" Mother " the child intervened " really the fault was mine alone, because I secretly took what I was not supposed to take, as I was extremely curious.”

His mother held him close to silence him and saw that the king had a strange look as he watched them.

It had been a long time since his eyes had been glimmering in excitement, a long time since he had had words like that, kind words, yet not conventional.

" Don't apologize, my darling” she answered her son, her eyes searching for the king " nothing can make me happier than having you close to me. Now " she added " go spruce yourself up before going down to breakfast with me. Perhaps your father will join us for once.”

The king nodded.

When his son left, he approached the queen and grabbed her hand: "I'm really sorry," he repeated, "I hope you didn't feel too lonely tonight."

" I was, but no more.”

" But not forgotten, right?”

" How could I? Do you truly believe that entrusting my torments or my expectations to paper will make me forget everything?”

" No, you're right. But you know the way I am, you've always known it and ...”

" I accepted this way of life. I have your child and I should not wish for anything else. I don't know if that's what you expect from me, but in reality, that's not what I feel.”

" What else would you like?”

" It's not up to me to teach my king.”

" I know, but I can't be different. I'm already surprised at myself for how I let myself be conquered by our son. Maybe someday…”.

" Perhaps " granted the queen " I can wait.”

The king was silent for a long time, then asked: "Is there anything else I don't know?"

" Do you think you have the right to know all the secrets of my soul?”

" Yes " he replied forcefully " There must be no mysteries for the king.”

" Good: if the king wants to know them, he should try to discover them on his own.”

" Are you challenging me? Be careful.”

" You are the master of my life, but not of my mind.”

"I could force you," the king began abruptly, but then immediately, in a flash, he saw his son again with pain in his eyes at the thought of bringing his mother sorrow and stopped. His approach changed.

" No " he admitted " I'm not, even if I want to. I can understand that you want to be at least a little independent of me or others, but I must confess that I would be happier if I could know all of your thoughts.”

The queen nodded but did not speak. She knew her lord and knew difficult those words must have been for him.

The taste of a won battle is as sweet and intoxicating as the new wine, but she also knew that it was not a definitive victory, nor, perhaps, would there ever have been.

When her father had granted her in marriage to the king, she had not, of course, opposed the marriage, nor could she have done so because it had been set up by the family and because such a great honor could not be refused without attracting the resentment of the king and the court.

However, she had soon learned to love and respect him and, again, she had not rebelled when he had made her understand that his palace would also be her golden prison, since he did not tolerate the idea of not being able to control her actions and her life in the midst of the multitude of noble courtiers, who attended the court, ready for flattery and adulation, whose rules were solely those of amusements and assiduous courtship of the ladies (queen included). Thus, she would have to accept living practically as a recluse in her own apartments when he was not present. For this reason she had preferred to establish residence in that country castle where she felt freer than in the city palace, where a thousand eyes would have spied on her every minute and where the large rooms, suffocating in their gaudery, without that air and that light that flooded her "rooms" at all times, would have made her sad like a poor captive bird.

Besides, her king loved that castle a lot and when he came to visit, especially in the hunting season, he was always quite cheerful and open to generosity and courtesy. Everyone told her that at court it was never like that and she was therefore happy with her choice. Even for her son.

She did not want him to be forced to suffer the jealousy of the two older brothers, sons from the king's first marriage, whom she knew where not much loved by their father, and would not have liked the baby to grow up in a gloomy city palace when he could have this instead: the park and the forest, the animals, the flowers and the orchard; he was a lively child and always on the move and, although a little too isolated, here there was enough space for him to live without excessive constraints.

Certainly, little by little she had tried to organize her life in a different way from what the king would have demanded. Despite the bans, for example, she had begun to frequent the castle library and the very fact of being able to spend part of the day there, in peace, immersed in those wonderful worlds that would otherwise have been forbidden to her, had given her greater serenity and ability to better withstand her recluse solitude.

And then there was her son, who grew up and surrounded her with an ever deeper and warmer affection.

And her poems.

A little out of boredom and a bit out of challenge, she had begun to write those diary pages, which had grown and ended up being vitally necessary.

Her husband had reproached her for her wishes for independence (albeit very minimal) and had even threatened to take away her child if she did not respect the pacts between them.

She had then fought like a lioness defending her child even at the cost of dying, and she had faced his furious gaze head-on, as the king tried to be master of her soul too. He had mocked her for her stupid and useless pages, written only to protect her from feeling like a ship completely at the mercy of the calm and the storm. In the beginning, she answered with the same tone and the same weapons, but then had to succumb to tears, which made her understand how desperately weak and alone she was, despite her efforts to build a protective mental armor for herself.

Then the king had left, perhaps satisfied to have once more won over his opponent and convinced that he had made it very clear who of the two was in command (which in truth was obvious) and what he demanded from her.

Thus, on the night when the little prince abandoned in his bed felt immensely alone and fidgeted uneasily in the darkness that was so frightening to him, even the queen had bitterly meditated on the high price she would always have to pay for the honor of being asked to marry the king and give him a son.

And yet, that that same finch that seemed so fragile and instead was as strong as a warrior, had conquered his father like no one before and had now brought back to her a different husband, who even knew how to admit his wrong and asked her to put up with him as it was, because he, in his own way, loved her and didn't want to see her unhappy.

"I too," said the queen at last, "sometimes I would like to know your deepest thoughts."

"What do you mean?" The king inquired guardedly.

" Why for example did you ask me to marry you one day? Was it just to have another child or did something in me attract your interest? And why was your first bride not a prisoner of your jealous possession mania? There are many things that I don’t know and that in my long lonely days torment me, as their meaning escapes me. But " she added quickly, seeing the king's face was clouding over," this is not what I want to know now; don't worry, I won't ask you embarrassing questions today or ever. I just wish you would tell me what you think of the prince.”

The king felt relieved at this last sentence: the queen had suddenly made it easy for him, when only a few seconds before the road ahead had seemed so steep and full of traps to make him shudder.

Nor was it easy for him to remove the veils that hid the faces of years-old ghosts. To discover one's own hidden desires, anger, disappointment, hatred, and love is not easy for anyone, and least of all for those who, like him, had been educated never to reveal their most concealed secrets even to their most trusted friends.

Being able to explore the hidden crypts of the mind can be a deadlier weapon than the sharpest sword.

He would have liked sometimes to reveal his utmost secrets to his queen, who, he knew well and was happy about, was worthy of his utmost trust, but had always backed away and that secret diary had infuriated him so much precisely because he recognized his difficulty in not being able to confide in those who loved him despite everything.

But if she was questioning his feelings about her son ...

There was nothing sweeter and more disturbing in his heart than the thought of the child.

" What I am thinking or what I am feeling? " he asked her.

" Both.”

" He's a boy like I've never seen in my life. I am fond of him though sometimes he seems a little wild. But there will be time to educate him to become a true king.”

He stopped talking abruptly: the queen's eyes were already reproaching him for his lie. The prince was not destined for that role, they both knew it.

" And if not king “ he continued " a true noble prince. I find that he is like you in many ways and like me in other ways. A perfect mix, don't you think?”

"I don't know if the king appreciates in him what is mine or what is his," she insinuated.

"I don't know either, but I believe your first guess," he admitted.

" I must therefore think that you are not really sorry for the thoughts that live inside me.”

" Not entirely, even if sometimes I find it hard to understand them. But then our son too is like this: sometimes he is a child who has no mysteries, cheerful and naive, while sometimes he is an enigma and he baffles me. He has an adult pride and courage that frightens me, even if " he smiled tenderly at the memory " he is not afraid to confess that darkness makes him shudder. He can defend his positions even against the king, but he does not hesitate to admit his weaknesses, which makes him irresistible.”

" Do you love him?”

" Yes " the king admitted. “ And I'm sorry I didn't truly get to know him before. Luckily, I had that crazy idea of wanting to bring him alone to hunt. I don't even know how I thought of that, maybe it was a divine inspiration. Now I could not live without him, not even when he makes me angry and I would like to find the courage to punish him as he deserves; but it seems that with him I have completely softened and I cannot, no matter what I do, imagine his suffering without experiencing it myself. Think about the issue of the park: when he confessed to me that he was afraid of the cell of the tower, I pictured him alone, up there, trembling terrified by the noise of his own breath. To make a long story short, I wished to have him next to me at night to hold his hand and hold him as you do. I envy you this chance.”

" Will you take him with you then? " asked the queen, in suspense.

" Only if you agree, but I won't do it if it makes you suffer. Do not think that I am cruel, as I sometimes the words I say may make me look like that.”

" I never believed it; I ... I don't know how I would live without him, but if it was necessary for his education ...”

The king felt from her voice that she was trying to keep calm, but the tension was palpable.

" I repeat: only if your answer is yes. Maybe in a while, when he too will be old enough not to miss your embrace too much.”

The queen smiled.

" After all " he concluded, I decided to spend more time here from now on. I am realizing that it is indeed a delightful place, much better than the city, and no one will be able to prevent me from leaving my state commitments in the hands of my ministers more and enjoying my son more. And my wife, of course.”

" And your other children?

" They've already had what was due to them and the oldest is seriously training to become king. Perhaps he hopes to replace me soon " the sovereign grins " but I don't think his time has come yet. He will not be a bad king; certainly not as forceful as me.”

" What do they think of us?”

" Anything.”

" Do you mean that you never asked him if they wanted to meet his brother and maybe come and spend little time here? After all, they are only two boys.”

" No. They have their life at the court, and they must not mix with you.”

"But why?”

"It's like that because that is my decision" the king cut her short.

The queen did not give up: " Perhaps they would like to come here to hunt with you.”

" No. It is out of the question, do not insist " and this time even the queen had to admit that his decision was final.

She did not know the past life of the king in great detail, although, like everyone else, she knew that the first marriage had been a source of bitterness for him and his wife; married for political reasons, they had never been able to love each other. It was rumored that the queen had betrayed him for a long time with young nobles of the court, but then he too had had more than one mistress who had gladly consoled him with her graces. It was not unusual, and no one too surprised; the king did not have an easy disposition and the queen, well-informed sources always said, knew how to stand up to him, indeed, at times, she was sometimes even more stubborn and overbearing than him, and was ambitiously malicious.

When she died, everyone had thought that the king would no longer risk marrying again, all the more so because the descendants were already assured, and he would still enjoy a few beautiful complacent ladies without too many burdens and unknowns.

Instead…

The queen well remembered those terrible and anxious days in which she had been asked to reflect on the proposal that came from the court and how her father, in truth, had not given her many alternatives in this regard.

" It is either the king " had said " or the convent. Nobody will marry you anymore if you refuse the king, because he will take revenge on us, discrediting me and my family and because no noble of the kingdom would dare to aspire in the future to a woman the king had chosen for himself.”

But she was not at all sorry to give her consent, because she had gotten to know him and thought his soul had the potential of being noble and generous, beyond appearances.

For nine years now she had shared her life with him, but she had never had the audacity to ask him anything more about the previous queen and why he absolutely did not want his two older sons to know her and visit her at her castle.

She had just caught a glimpse of them on their wedding day; obviously, they had been invited but kept to the side; they had seemed closed and hostile. Perhaps, only sad, and jealous like all the children who had witnessed frigid family relationships and who were forced to endure a stepmother.

They were still small, four to five years old, but with their mind made up and not at all willing to smile and welcome her like a new mother.

Moreover, the king had given neither them nor her the chance to try to build a more caring bond because the queen had been almost immediately isolated in her splendid prison and the two children had continued to live at the court with their tutors and military instructors, between servants and rulers who did not make them want for anything. But they were missing the affection of a father, physically always very present, but distant as far as everything else was concerned, and a mother to soften their grim existence.

" Too bad " the queen murmured " I would have liked to welcome them almost like my own children.”

"They are not," the king" replied acidly. “I myself have never been able to really love them.”

" And yet you've always had them close, much more than our son and you say you love him.”

" He is different ... You are different.”

" Or maybe you're not the same when you're here and when you're at court; or perhaps release on them the old grudges of which they are only the victims.”

" What do you know about it?”

" Nothing, it's true, but you can't be unaware of what everyone was saying about the king and his queen.”

The king instinctively raised his hand to strike her, but immediately, repenting, he held it back.

"Excuse me," he whispered, "you're right, everyone knew and talked, more or less haphazardly. Do you want me to tell you once and for all the reason I hated the queen and now I can't love my children? Is that what you need in order to leave me alone?”

The king's voice sounded a little forced and not at all different than usual, as if he were begging her to free him from a nightmare and, at the same time, asking her not to let him go back to his old ways of suffering.

He was uncertain, poised between two opposed temptations.

" No, I don't want to know if this causes you pain. But if you want me to tell you how I feel about it, if I'm allowed ...”

" You know you are the only one who can do it.”

" ... I believe that whatever happened, your children have nothing to do with it. They were entitled to your fatherly love and still are. And although many years have passed, perhaps it is still not too late to bring them closer to you. If you don't want me to get to know them or for them to frequent our son, do as you wish. It doesn't seem right though. As far as the rest it is your duty to fix it.”

" Is this what you think?”

" Yes.”

" Even if you had to lose something?”

" What on earth could I lose? The rights that I don't have and will never have? I don't care about that.”

" All right. And our son?”

" He would never be king anyway.”

" I could make him king, by my decree.”

" I would stop you. It would be unfair and brutal towards them and would only hurt him.”

The king frowned, deep in thoughts. He took a few steps away from the queen and went to look out at one of the windows that overlooked a small internal garden, which everyone called the queen's kingdom, because she did not let anyone else take care of it.

He observed in silence for a few minutes the lively plants of roses, asters and hydrangeas that adorned the flowerbeds around the pool, where mysterious water lilies bloomed, small hedges full of curious red berries grew as well as the bench where he imagined seeing his wife laughing and chatting tenderly with the prince, who was near her and drank eagerly every word from her lips.

"Come here, next to me," he said slowly, almost in a whisper.

When she was beside him, he squeezed her hand and, still without looking at her, continued: "Betrayal is nothing; cynicism without shame is what can completely destroy you.”

"I am afraid I don’t understand," the queen murmured.

" I knew my wife was cheating on me and I knew with whom and how and when. A king " he smiled bitterly " always has many zealous informants. But then neither of us expected love from marriage. I was free, she was free, this was in the terms of our marriage contract. When she learned she was close to death, she made me swear that I would respect the rights of her children, despite the hatred that had divided us, and I, stupidly, had no difficulty doing so: the two children were also mine and I loved them. I had not always been a perfect father, nor a bad parent. Only when she was sure she had achieved what she wanted, she revealed to me that neither was mine, that she had made me believe it by pretending from the beginning, taking advantage of me at will and laughing at me with her young suitors. I never knew who the father was.”

" And the kids loved you?”

" I think so. Now I don't care anymore. I can't even stand their sight. I don't want you and the prince to mix with them. I can’t stand watching people I love mixing with those who only remind me of hatred and malice.”

" Please forgive me if I insist: you should try to see them with different eyes. None of this is their fault.”

The king looked at her tenderly: "You too never give up, do you? I promise you I'll think about it.”

Then he pulled her to him and kissed her.

The prince saw them, while he was at the door of the hall, and felt a slight hint of jealousy, perhaps the first of his young life, but he chased it away immediately, decisively. He came back and announced his arrival noisily. The parents, unaware, greeted him with a smile, welcoming him in their arms.

Later his father asked him to accompany him to check an old fortification guard. Located at quite a few kilometers distance from the castle in a north-eastern direction, it had been built close to a massive stone bridge and, from very ancient times, with its severe bulk, it reminded those who passed by there that its authority was impervious to any pleas.

In reality, it was no longer serving any practical functions and had remained little more than a symbol, but the king was strongly and ambiguously tied to it, since it was there that his father had once locked him up after he had rebelled , and there he had also learned to know, in solitude, the value of a true friendship, when an old childhood companion of his had left his noble home for him and challenged the king's vengeance to remain with him.

Even now, every time he returned, the sovereign felt a mixture of repulsion and love for that place, which had seen him quiver with anger, fear, resentment as well as physical and moral impatience with the petty rules of the court and that, at the same time, had accompanied each passing day with the sounds of the sweet surrounding countryside and had finally seen a warm and splendid relationship develop between two young people.

The king wanted his son to know what he had felt, imprisoned in that bare and uncomfortable fortress to look at the life that happened undisturbed out there, in the waters of the river, in the woods and the fields; about his long conversations with his favorite friend and their ardent dreams about the future. Unfortunately, those dreams had never really come true because life had soon defeated them both, one with death, and the other with a scorching betrayal.

Certainly, the king realized that the child was perhaps too small to be able to understand what he felt, and he knew he was likely not able to find the right words to explain himself clearly.

How can a man express his soul in words, his desires and his follies, his instincts of life and death and emotions that are stirred without a reason in the heart, maybe only at the sight of flowering grass swaying in the warm summer wind or a swarm of fireflies wandering in the night, or the scent of freshly harvested hay, symbolizing work, hard work and hopes?

The king ignored it, but he wanted at all costs for the prince to understand that.

They arrived on horseback, along the narrow road that came from the woods and opened up from behind the tower, not the main road that crossed the bridge and touched the base of the building, passing it on the right, before continuing towards the mountain and the pass that led to the state borders. That was the way the king himself had followed then, in his restless youth, escorted by his father's guards, in order not to have to cross the village, a little further down the bridge, lying halfway up the hill like a small flock of sheep, protected on one side by the fortress and on the other by the city, perhaps farther away, but even more oppressive than the shadow of the tower itself.

This is the only thing his father had granted him in his fury: to be able to avoid the derision of the people, who knew of his rebellions and certainly had to have at least partly shared them and that now would put him in the pillory for his miserable failure, as always happens when a strong man falls and the weak take advantage of it by taking a petty revenge.

The king dismounted and held out a hand to his son, who jumped down with the agility of a squirrel; they moved forward holding the horses by the reins and the king ordered their companions to wait for them outside the tower, near the bridge.