Steam rises from the mugs brought to the table as this round of coffee.
You strain to distinguish the milk from the cream in the subdued lighting
of this quiet corner of the Liberty. Eric pours a small stream of sugar
into his mug and his attention shifts, just for a moment, as he watches
the swirls of cream twist in his coffee.
"I suppose it's my turn to talk of the past.
"Where to start?
"Perhaps at the beginning?
"Of course, I'm not going to tell you of -the- past. The walls have
ears, even here in this liberating basement. There are somethings that
are best learnt by those who are ready to discover them themselves. No,
I will not speak of -the- past, but instead of -a- past.
"Once upon a time, a young, beautiful English woman, Erica, sought to
test the freedoms her wealthy parents allowed her and she begged for a
vacation through the ancient, mystical world of Arabia. Her parents
granted the wish, as they always would, and that spring Erica found
herself packing and preparing for her current fantasy.
"Arabia was like a dream to her; the architectural marvels that were the
mosques set the dreamscape, the dark streets and twisted alleys were her
gentle antagonists, and the mysterious people and strange languages
populated her waking dream. Of course, no dream is complete without a
dashing prince.
"He was a young visar, a Mr. Rashim. He approached her in a crowded
bazaar one morning and swept her off her feet with a kiss. Right then
and there he offered to make her his wife. She blushed at his jest and
continued the joke with a coy remark. He smiled and led Erica from out
of the bazaar and into a small cafe where they spent the next few hours
talking.
"The visar invited Erica to a quiet dinner that night which led into a
quiet breakfast the next morning. As they ate their dates and French
croissants, the visar confessed that he had been serious about his
proposal in the bazaar the previous day. Erica dropped her coffee in a
startle and, consumed by the dream, accepted the visar's hand in
marriage.
"The next few days flew by like a whirlwind. Plans were made and
arrangements were set in order. The wedding took place a week later and
the honeymoon lasted for three weeks. She received word from her
parents, congratulating her on her romantic, if hasty, marriage. 'When
will we meet our new son? What are your plans? When will we see -you-
again?' Erica and the visar made plans to travel to London in the fall.
"Those plans never came through. Not too long after the honeymoon Erica
realized that she was pregnant. Certainly, they would be able to make it
to England before she gave birth, but if they stayed in England for long
enough to truly justify the trip, she would have to give birth there.
Since both she and her husband wanted the child to be born in the majesty
of Arabia, plans were changed and three people would travel to England
next Spring.
"Those plans never came through either. Months passed and Erica's child
grew inside of her. Winter came and Erica's labor was heralded with a
cooling winter wind. The wind stayed calm as Erica's scream roared
through the palace. As a new life was brought into the world, a life
fled from it. My mother sacrificed her life to give me mine. I killed
my mother that Arabian winter of my birth.
"I was named after my mother, in her honor, and I was given her locket,
this one that I always wear around my neck, with her picture inside. I
did come to meet my mother's parents years later, though the entire time
I felt that they blamed me for the death of their only child. Instead, I
relegated England away as the land of ghosts and made Arabia my home.
"What a home that land made for me. The Sultan's wife had beared him a
son just a few months old than I; the two of us played together always
and still the Prince Hazim and I are the closest of friends. As the
visar's only son and future visar myself, I was given everythingÉ
"Excuse me."
Eric leans over to the Prince sitting at his side. Hazim discreetly
points out an attractive woman sitting a few tables away. Eric whispers
something in the Prince's ear and slaps his butt as Hazim leaves the
corner table to meet the woman.
"I was given everything I could ask for. I sat with Hazim before the
finest tutors the Sultan could find. The finest foods were served to the
Prince and his visar playmate. When we were older, the most skilled
women from the Sultan's harem taught us about the arts of love.
"Our fathers, the Sultan and Visar did separate us now and then. After
all, there were somethings that each of us was to learn that the other
did not." Eric looks back to see that the Prince is out of earshot. "In
particular, I learned that while the Prince and Sultan might sit on the
throne, it was the Visars who whisper in their ears and decide who would
be allowed an audience with the Sultans. I learned who truly controlled
the throne and how to hide that control.
"So now, I am here in your country with my Prince. Though he his fully
capable himself, his enrollment in Harvard was arranged by his father.
The university now makes allowances for an Arabian prince who seeks to
sow his wild oats instead of attending to his studies." Behind Eric,
tables away, the prince's hands make no attempt to be discreet as they
explore the woman's shoulders and she offers no resistance as he leans in
to kiss her.
"The prince is a dear friend but there are times when I think of him as a
child. Of course, my father and I have also guided our Visars to be like
children. After all, aren't all the masses just our children, to be
guided and influenced?"
Eric Rashim is copyright 1999 , Chad Rippere.
Created as an original character for _The Jehovah Contract_ stories.
Back to the Twilight War.
Last update 18-may-99