LITMIR.BIZ

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may free himself, as indeed I myself did with my father.”

      He felt that after all this he could stand it, because now he knew that his son sincerely loved him and would always love him.

      "So, father?" The prince said.

      " What?”

      " The mysterious country behind the mountains.”

      " Yes, you don't forget, do you?”

      " No, I'm waiting for an answer.”

      " 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

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