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" I told you: I've never been there personally. But someone who has seen it told me that far beyond the mountains there is a beautiful kingdom rich in water and fragrant pastures, with tall houses with red towers like fire in the sunset and silver domes like the light of the moon which so fascinates you. In spring, the valleys are covered with flowers and in autumn the leaves of the plants are the color of the sun. However, to be honest, I don't think it's really the country you're looking for. Perhaps it does not exist here on earth. Many books of ancient travelers speak of the rising of the sun and the moon to the east, ever further to the east. There is no resting point for them.”
" So, are the things the master explained to me the truth, and not my mother’s and Antonia’s tales?”
"That is what I think," the king smiled.
" Too bad " the little prince breathed unnoticeably " the contrary would have been much better.”
" I cannot believe it! " laughed his father noisily" A poet: I created a poet. Unbelievable. Hey! " he called near him his most trusted friends who, not far from there, were arranging their weapons and mounts, peeking from time to time at their friend and gentleman wasting time arguing with a child. " Hey, friends, listen to this: my son has the soul of a dreamer, of a poet. He sighs to the moon and conjures up fairytale countries. That’s wonderful, don’t you agree?”
Again, he laughed in a sarcastic not held back tone.
His son felt wounded and blushed violently. His eyes darkened completely, lighting up with a strange light, like the sulfurous glow of a flash.
"Father," he said in a firm, almost severe voice, "you don't need to bother showing me those books you are speaking of; I don't think I need it. I prefer my dreams.”
The king fell silent suddenly and he too became red in the forehead and on his pronounced cheekbones. He did not reply to the prince, who had already turned his back on him, and merely waved his advisers away.
Everyone present, no one excluded, shook, and wondered why their lord did not whip that spoiled child, who had dared to reply so boldly, with a challenging attitude.
But in the evening the king, before retiring for the night, went to his son's tent and, after sending away his two servants, sat down beside him, shaking his hand without speaking.
"I'm sorry, father," said the little boy. "I know I would deserve a punishment for what I said. My teacher punishes me for a lot less, but you didn't have to laugh at me like that. You hurt me right here " he touched his thin panting chest " so strongly that I felt like crashing, like a tree in a storm.”
His eyes shone and it was not clear whether he was holding back tears or a new outburst of indignation.
" Excuse me, son. I'm a bit of a rough warrior sometimes, but I didn't want to offend you. I have nothing against poetry and your mother loves it as much as she loves you and I chose her as queen; don’t think I love you any less because of this.”
" I was afraid you would not love me anymore.”
"Nonsense," the king said bluntly.
" So, can you forgive me?”
" Sure, in fact I came to tell you a fairy tale.”
" Do you also know the fantastic stories that Antonia tells me? With the dragons and the knights and the fairies of the fairies?”
" No, I don't remember those anymore. It's been a long time since my nurse told me on winter nights by the fireplace to quiet me down. But there is a beautiful story that is true and sounds like a fairy tale and that is the one I would like to tell you.”
The prince nodded and his father, in an uncertain voice at first, then gradually more and more confident and casual, told him of the wonderful adventures of an ancient Venetian traveler, of his extraordinary discoveries and of the great, incredible kingdom of Khan, where everything seemed enchanted, where the flowers were as fragile as porcelain and their colors as delicate as butterfly wings, where everything seemed to move with the grace of bird flights and give off the intense and exciting, soft and penetrating scent of the rarest spices and herbs . In that distant kingdom where Marco Polo had stayed for so long to be able to tell tales of a thousand incredible inventions and the even stranger life of that people, perhaps could have been the land of the sun and the moon.
" There is a country in the East of the Indies that they call the Rising Sun Earth. Maybe that's what you're looking for. We could go together one day," he said finally.
" Father, it is not necessary for you to lie to please me. You said yourself that no traveler has ever seen it.”
"Yes, sorry again, I didn't really believe that as a child you would be so wise. But did you like my story?”
" Very much, thank you.”
" Do you want to give me a kiss then and make peace?”
" Yes, father.”
The king smiled and, that night, for the first time in his life, he went to sleep fully satisfied with himself.
After all, for the first time he had much on his mind, thoughts that undermined what he had considered unshakable up to that point.
His little son, so fragile, sentimental, and sweet, but also proud and ardent, was truly an exceptional discovery.
He did not resemble any other boy he had ever known, nor his other children, whom his first wife had given him and who lived respected and honored at his court.
No one had that deep and disturbing look, that independence of judgment, that courage to face him openly, despite being only eight years old.
Now he intended to take him along more often, in his travels and in hunts, in his golden palace, filled with paintings and crammed with precious books; he wanted to teach him everything he loved most; make him an accomplice and trustworthy ally.
A real son.
Until that moment he had not been very worried about that child whom he sometimes did not see for months and at whom he glimpsed curiously during his visits to his mother.
How had the sudden and frightening idea to take him with him that time come to him?
He couldn't even tell. The queen had not objected, as he had feared at the beginning, when he had seen her frowning; instead, she had said she was happy with the idea.
" Won’t you be lonely without him?”
" Not too much. I am always lonely, that doesn't scare me.”
Was there a veiled reproach in her voice?
" Do you mean to say that I neglect you?”
" Should I not? You know well that it is the truth, but I am not reproaching you. I have my life here and that's enough. Your presence is always so powerful that its memory is enough for me for months.”
The queen really deserved that title, he often thought, and even that day she had not disappointed him.
" Your child is still small, but wise, and he will not be a burden, in fact I hope you will like his company.”
Now he understood what she meant, he really understood it. While the first moments had been painful and irritating for both of them and he had even been tempted to send him back with an excuse, now he understood fully.
He had been held back more by the spite of disappointment than by affection and now he had to thank that contemptuous arrogance that had driven him to go on without worrying too much about the evident physical and moral discomfort of the child, who found it hard to keep up with him during the long fast rides, who complained and fidgeted in his sleep and could not stand their rough heavy food without being sick.
He had scolded him furiously, when his inexperience had made some prey escape, he had humiliated him with sarcastic remarks about his almost feminine delicacy, and he had even raised his whip on him. And he had not rebelled, but he had never given up, he had cried sometimes, it is true, but never in his presence. His gaze, he remembered suddenly with a jolt of boundless joy, had always remained firm and full of dignity.
No, his son did not have the makings of a vile courtier: he was indeed a prince.
What a shame not to have realized it before!
Full of dreams and a poet, he vulgarly teased him that day and he had defended his right, and his freedom to be true to himself.
When, at the end of the hunting week, they had returned to the castle, the king had praised him in front of his mother with words that no one had ever heard coming from him, and that had made the queen smile with sweetness.
He had declared that he would stay longer than usual at the castle that year because the hunt had been excellent, and he intended to hunt again in the coming weeks. He also wanted to reopen and rearrange the library (why had the queen smiled mysteriously when she heard those words?) as well as to take care of many other needed improvements, which for years had been postponed and could not be avoided any longer.
He had not said that above all he wanted to be with his son and spend long enjoyable weeks with him. But many had guessed it and soon everyone understood it.
Meanwhile, there was the issue of the park.
The king used to get up early in the morning and go out for a walk in the castle gardens with his dogs sometimes, more often alone, or go on horseback along the banks of the river, on the solitary country paths, and did not want anyone to follow him, despite the protests of his advisers.
" I always have many people around me " he said, puffing impatiently when someone came back on the subject " especially when I'm in the city, that I don't want anyone here, I mean nobody, to follow me. I need a couple of hours of solitude to deal with everything else.”
In reality, he had given orders that not even a gardener or any of the other servants should be at the time in the park. Obviously, no one dared to disobey him and, after so many years, everyone was familiar with his odd behavior, so even those who found themselves having to be at work at that hour in the stables or in the garden, would be careful not to be seen. It was not easy to be forgiven by the king and escape his punishments.
Was the prince also aware of his father's wish?
Most likely yes, but he was sure the orders of the sovereign did not apply to the queen and to him. On the other hand, the castle belonged more to him than to others, because for many months a year it was his undisputed kingdom, where he dominated and ran about as he pleased, of which he knew every corner and every blade of grass. No one thought to limit his movements inside the property, and, except for the library and the apartment of the king, all other doors were open to him.
He had even visited the basements and the two towers that guarded the two opposite sides of the castle's facade.
The prince therefore considered himself free to contradict his father's orders and to continue his old habit of going down to the garden at dawn to feed the squirrels and the fallow deer, which populated the grove of silvered cypresses and holm oaks at the edge of the park. Since many years, the fence that divided it from the woods behind it had fallen in that spot and the timid little animals had begun to come at daybreak to drink at the fountain which was perennially filled with water and to eat what the little prince regularly found for them: apples and walnuts, stolen from the pantry, and oats and hay, which was given to him by one of the workers in the stable.
He knew that they were afraid of human presence and he stood quietly and motionless behind the trees watching them while they drank and ate gracefully, never completely calm, always alert, their muzzle and ears quivering, their big liquid eyes ready to catch the slightest change in shadows and lights.
Perhaps they had felt his presence, but they must have realized that he loved them and fed them and tolerated him without difficulty, also because he was almost impossible to notice.
When they returned to the woods where they came from, the prince stretched his legs running towards the pools in the park, making the doves that had come to quench their thirst fly away, watching for a while the large red and black fishes that moved slowly under the rays of the sun that was beginning to illuminate the clear leaping waters, creating a thousand rainbows from the jets gushing from strange animal heads or groups of pretty sea nymphs.
And so he continued his rounds through the garden, from one edge to the other, tripping on the gravel paths and skipping the low box hedges with great desperation of the gardener who often had to remedy the damage he caused, and spying, with his nose close to the bars of the top gate that led to the road t to the city, the movements of the peasants who passed by with carts and animals to go to work or to the markets.
Then Antonia or some old servant would come to call him because it was time to go back to lock himself in the castle to attend his morning lessons.
It was the freest moment of his day and his mother, who was aware of it, had never stopped him from going out any time and in any season. The prince knew when the first roses were born or the leaves turned red, when the crocus and the violets in the ditches sprouted or when the ice formed its shining mirrors on the water of the fountains and adorned the mouths of lions and dragons spitting water with pointed icicles.
He watched the rain drumming on the bushes and rooftops of the stables or the sun rising slowly from the east, announcing another splendid and warm day.
So, one morning, the king happened to catch a glimpse of a small shadow lurking in the grove and then, immediately afterwards, hopping and whistling away along the path that led to the end of the garden, towards the orchard.
He was dumbfounded, unable to understand who that might be, and annoyed at having been so clearly disobeyed. He decided to wait for him next to the staircase that led to the terrace on the first floor. He would have had to go through there anyway. Whether he was a young servant of the castle or a stable boy, he would have been clearly visible from that position.
He was most likely a young boy who had just been hired or the son of some old servant, and, for this reason, he certainly wasn't aware of his orders. He could not even imagine that anyone could deliberately challenge them, but he had to bring this to the butler to stop it from happening. He took note of it as he waited a little impatiently for the mysterious character to pass by.
After waiting fifteen minutes, he definitely began to get nervous and started striding back and forth on the broad pinkish stones of the courtyard, which formed precise and pleasing geometric patterns converging towards the low stairway that led to the rich garden. Italian. He still remembered when his father had restored that building to spend the long hunting season and when he had taken the queen there for the first time and she had been captivated by that harmonious, simple and elegant structure and had willingly consented to spend her days there, rather than at the city palace.
Ah, finally! The shadow emerged from behind the tropical flower greenhouses. The king frowned, preparing to abruptly stop the boy and teach him a lesson.
But as he got close, he was petrified by astonishment and indignation: it was his son disobeying him without the possibility of mistake!
But the prince's little face was smiling and happy, not at all intimidated, perfectly innocent.
" Good morning, father. Today will be a wonderful day " he said with a cheerful smile " I was in the orchard and saw the apples are already ripe, red, and yellow as ever.”
" Yes, that is true. But leave the fruit alone: are you not aware of my orders?”
" What orders, father?”
" I don't want to meet anyone when I go out in the park in the morning. Nobody, is it clear?”
Why was he making such a big deal? The king felt a little ridiculous; thinking about it, he was being as capricious as a child and this made him even more angry.
" Yes, I know them, but I thought ... " the prince lowered his head mortified.
" What? That you could disobey as you please, that you are above others, even more important than you, who obey without questioning my decision?”
His father stared at him sternly, he addressed him with a changed cutting voice, and he felt ever smaller and more distressed. The sun that had just warmed his heart was disappearing behind heavy black clouds.
" How come you are not answering? Come on tell me what you think. " and he shook him, grabbing the small arm left inert in his hands.
"I thought your orders did not apply to me or my mother," the child whispered.
" Your mother is exempt, but do you really think you are dispensed from obedience? It's unbelievable: a little brat who thinks he's superior to anyone!”
" No, Father, I don't believe it.”
" Thank God. What now?”
" I'm used to getting out of the castle at this time, my mother always allows me and I thought you weren't against it and besides… ." here it stuttered and couldn't continue; although he tried to control the tremor of his voice, he understood that he was too agitated to do it and was afraid his father would realize that.
" Go on " the king urged him, with a nervous tone that certainly did not help him calm down.
" Nothing, father.”
" No, it's not true that it's all and I want to know what "besides" means. Tell me, or I won't let you go.”
The prince then raised his eyes to his father's face, and he could not read any fear as he sought. Was his son so contemptuous that he didn't fear him even a little bit?
But in his eyes, there was not even a shadow of fear.
" I'm tired of playing riddles with a child. Come on, hurry up.”
" I was hoping you wouldn't mind meeting me. I am not just anybody, that is ... " he corrected himself afraid to be misunderstood " that is, I wanted to say, not for you. Will you let me go now, please?”
The king gave up his grip, but neither moved.
They remained silent for a moment, then the prince asked:
" Father, what is the punishment?”
The king set aside the troublesome thoughts that had been bothering him since he had heard those last sentences of the young prince " What? "
