The King and the Emperor
by Charles Lacey
A fairy tale, in more senses than one.
"Hell's Bells!" said the King, "and buckets of blood."
There were many things that King Hildebrand of Tratvia disliked, but the thing he disliked most, with the possible exception of his elder son, was a Cabinet meeting. And now he had to attend a Cabinet meeting to discuss – what, what? – his elder son, along with the national finances.
"Hell's teeth!" he added, as he strode irritably along the passageway to the Cabinet Room.
The Inner Cabinet were there to meet him and stood as he entered. The Prime Minister was there, of course, Mr Gubbins. He was known to most of the country as "Bowed Joe" since his first name was Joseph and, appearing one day in shorts to play tennis, he had revealed a pair of remarkably bandy legs. "Damn the man", muttered the King, sotto voce. The Prime Minister, shaking his shaggy blond hair, greeted the King respectfully.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer was there, of course: Mr Munibags. He was fat and oily in appearance, but his voice was thin and grating. The Home Secretary and the Foreign Secretary were there. Also in his seat was the Minister of War, Mr Chapplewell. He was the only member of the Government that the King actually liked. They sat down. "Item One," said the King peevishly. "Finance. Mr Munibags?"
The Chancellor of the Exchequer stood up. The King, under cover of mopping his face with a large white handkerchief, took a generous mouthful from his hip flask before preparing for a half hour's slumber, since the Chancellor invariably took at least that long to get to the point.
"… and so, Sire, " said the Chancellor eventually, just as the King was waking up, "Your Majesty will understand that the situation is grave. Grave, Sire, and threatening. Indeed, I would go so far as to call it dire, Sire." He paused, conscious of having made an unintentional witticism. "I say," he said, aside to the Home Secretary, "That was rather good, wasn't it. 'Dire, Sire.'" He nudged the Home Secretary, who regarded him balefully over the tops of his spectacles.
"Remind me, Chancellor," said the King, "of the exact figures."
"Well, your Majesty, We owe the Americans ten thousand gold pieces. We owe the Chinese another ten thousand, and the Russians at least five thousand. I suppose we should set against this the fact the the British owe us about fifty thousand, but we won't see diddley-squat of that in our lifetime; they're in an even bigger mess than we are. But the worst of it is that we owe the Rohenians at least a hundred thousand gold pieces. And they are starting to sound a bit nasty about getting some of it back."
The King sighed deeply. Next to his elder son and the Government, he disliked the Rohenians, in addition to being extremely wary of them. For a start, the country was about ten times the size of Tratvia and had a vast and well trained Army. The Rohenian Emperor was known to be not averse to swallowing up small countries, and Tratvia was actually on the north-western border of his lands.
"Well, Chancellor, what do you suggest? We need to raise some serious money to pay off some of what we owe Rohenia. How about putting a penny or two on the income tax?"
"Oh, no, Sire," said the Chancellor with a shudder. "Just think what that would do to our popularity ratings. Why, we might not even get elected next time round! No, that won't do. We've already taxed family farms, so there's no more to come from there. No, we can't get any more from taxation."
"Can't we get anything out of the British?"
"Not a chance, your Majesty. They're in hock to everyone except Rohenia."
The King took another surreptitious swig from his hip flask.
"Well, that seems to be that, then." He sighed deeply. "Item Two. Prince Viridian."
The Chancellor's eyes glazed over.
"Do you know, gentlemen, I took the Prince with me last week to review the Army. His eyes were popping out like the stops on the Cathedral organ and all he could say was, 'Oh, Papa, look at all those scrumptious men.'"
"Oh dear," said the Minister of War. "He doesn't seem to have improved much. And… though your Majesty is as we all know in the best of health, one day – may it be long in the future - that young man must become King."
"True… true. I wish his brother Florian could be King, rather than Viridian, but what can I do about it? Nothing. But the kingdom will fall down flat in ten minutes when that useless… when Prince Viridian becomes King." He put his head in his hands.
The Minister of Health stood up. He was a crafty, foxy-looking man named Leech. "I have an idea, your Majesty. There is a provision in Tratvian law – I am indebted to the Professor of History at the University for the information – under which, if the Prince were to disappear for seven years, the title would pass to his brother."
"I don't see how that helps," said the King crossly. "We can hardly have His Royal Highness kidnapped."
"No," replied the Minister. "But I was talking the other day to Professor Noit-Awle, and he had an idea. He is waiting in the ante-room… if your Majesty would allow me to call him in?"
"Is that Professor Richard Noit-Awle? The one they call Clever Dick?"
"The same, Sire."
"Very well. Call him in."
The Professor was a little tubby man with wispy white hair surrounding a bald dome and thick spectacles behind which his eyes swam like fish in an aquarium.
"This is indeed an honour, Sire. How may I have the privilege of serving your Majesty?"
The Prime Minister broke in.
"The problem is Prince Viridian. He's a whoopsie if ever there was one, and if he ever gets to be King it'll be the end of Tratvia. "
"However," the Home Secretary added, "if there is some way in which he can… well, disappear… for seven years, then his brother, Prince Florian, can take his place…
"… and after seven years and one day, Prince Viridian can come back to life…"
"…or be discovered…"
"…and Prince Florian will still be Crown Prince. Long live his royal highness!"
"Ah!" said the Professor, "I see your problem." He turned to the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary, who were standing side by side, casting glances of mutual dislike and complicity at each other.
"How would it be if his royal highness were to fall asleep and not wake for seven years?"
"Ideal!" said the Prime Minister, the Home Secretary and the King all at the same time.
"But," asked the King, "how is it to be managed?"
"I believe I have the answer, your Majesty. For some years now one line of research I have been pursuing has to do with sleep, and I can say without fear of contradiction that I know more about it than anyone else in Tratvia… indeed, in the world."
He paused to give himself time to assume a complacent expression.
"Tell me, your Majesty and gentlemen, what is Prince Viridian doing just now?"
The King looked sour. "He is with his sisters, stitching frills to his vests or - or some such thing." He added a comment under his breath which, fortunately, no-one heard.
"Then, if your Majesty will lend me a servant to come back to my laboratory at the University, I will give him a needle made of a new metal which I have recently discovered. I was going to call it Septoslumbrium, but in honour of his royal highness I will name it Viridinium. If the Prince, using the needle, pricks his finger with it, he will soon become weary and a delicious lassitude will come over him. Within a day or two he will have fallen into a deep sleep. Let him then be dressed in a robe suitable for – how old is the Prince now?…"
"Eleven" said the King.
"… a robe suitable for a youth of eighteen, and laid upon a comfortable bed. He will continue to grow normally, and things like his hair will also grow – it may need to be trimmed from time to time – until seven years have passed, when he will wake, to find himself no longer the Crown Prince."
"And can anything wake him before seven years have passed?" asked the Home Secretary.
"Nothing. Well, nothing except…" The Professor unexpectedly blushed. "That is to say, nothing within any realistic probability."
"That's good enough for me," said the Prime Minister.
"And me," said the King, the Home Secretary and the Chancellor all together.
And so a servant was sent post-haste to the University, and was given the needle made of Viridinium, its point carefully protected with a champagne cork. The needle was presented to Prince Viridian, and before long, since although he loved sewing, he was inexperienced in the skill, the point of the needle entered his finger tip, deeply enough to draw a drop of blood.
"Ouch!" said the Prince, reasonably enough. "And bother the silly thing." He continued sewing. But after luncheon he began to yawn, and by tea-time he could barely manage to eat a boiled egg with toast soldiers, he felt so tired. He was to have had a peach from the royal greenhouse for dessert, but by that time he was fast asleep with his head on the table.
The royal nursemaid was sent for, and Prince Viridian was dressed in a fine big robe of red, white and gold, and laid on the bed of the seventeenth royal guest chamber, this being the most comfortably furnished. "For," said the King kindly, "We don't want the Prince to be all over bruises when he wakes up."
Three years passed. Prince Florian had got quite used to the idea that if his brother did not wake up he would become Crown Prince, and in the fullness of time, King of Tratvia. But all was not well in the Kingdom. The problem was the Emperor of Rohenia. He was getting quite tetchy about the amount of money that Tratvia owed to his country. The Tratvian Cabinet had had a meeting with the Chancellor of Great Britain, at which the latter not only made it clear that any repayment of their debt was out of the question at the moment, but even borrowed another fiver so that he could take a taxi to the airport instead of using the 'bus.
"Hell's Bells!" said the King unoriginally, "And buckets of blood."
He entered the Cabinet Room and sat down with a thump. "Now what are we going to do? I've had a letter from the Emperor of Rohenia. He wants to come and visit. And I know what that means. They'll want to annex Tratvia, like that infernal fellow Lupin or whatever he calls himself did with that place on the Russian border. Do you know, I don't think we need have bothered putting Prince Viridian to sleep."
The politicians all made soothing noises. It was a skill upon which they prided themselves and was very useful in meetings with the King.
"Prince Florian and I reviewed the Army yesterday. A fine body of men, and at least we didn't have Prince Viridian making sheep's eyes at them. But let's face it, gentlemen, there are a hundred thousand soldiers in the Emperor's army. And how many exactly are in ours?"
"Two hundred and seventy-three," replied the Minister for War, "only two of them are down with the 'flu at the moment."
"Poor fellows," said the King kindly. "We hope they will be better soon. But they are outnumbered by three hundred and thirty-three to one and I don't think we will have much of a chance."
"Prince Florian is a good fighter," said the Prime Minister, whose son had been soundly thrashed by the Prince in a boxing match only the day before, "He'll put heart into the men."
"No," said the King. "We'll have to give in, I fear. Unless… is there any hope from elsewhere?"
"No," said the Foreign Secretary. "I asked the British government if we could borrow some soldiers from them, but they said 'No'. 'Non, m'sieur', said the French, 'Nein, mein Herr' came from Germany. The Italians added, 'No, signor', the Russians 'Nyet, Tovarisch' and the Chinese '不，先生'. There were several more replies of a similar nature from some of the smaller countries."
King Hildebrand was doomed to be thwarted at every turn, it seemed. The Emperor was to arrive and bring his eldest son, Prince Hilarion, with him. And they would have to be accommodated at the Palace. The King explained all this to his Housekeeper, his Groom of Chambers and his Principal Butler. A State Banquet was arranged for the benefit of the Emperor and Empress together with Prince Hilarion and Princess Alexandra. All the most important people had had to be invited, and the King spent half a day with the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary drawing up a seating plan.
The Emperor and his family duly arrived by special express train. A quantity of peasants were bribed with beer to meet the Emperor's train and cheer enthusiastically; the prettiest little girl that could be found presented a bouquet to the Empress and her younger sister presented another one to the Princess.
Prince Hilarion, on the other hand, seemed to consider the whole thing a great lark. He was the Crown Prince of Rohenia, aged fourteen, a colourful and intelligent lad, not notably academic, but merry and good-natured. The Imperial party were driven to the Palace in a Rolls-Royce borrowed from the British Ambassador and shown to their rooms.
Nobody could have claimed that the banquet was not a great success. The Prime Minister made a long speech containing every platitude that he had been able to think up. The King made a much shorter speech welcoming the Emperor and his family and expressing the hope that a happy and peaceful relationship would always exist between the Kingdom of Tratvia and the Rohenian Empire.
The Emperor stood, and began a still longer speech. But Prince Hilarion was feeling that he was full up and getting more bored with every second that passed. He beckoned to a servant.
"I'm bursting for a pee," he whispered. "Where does one go?"
The servant led Prince Hilarion through a maze of corridors to a lavatory, then returned to the his usual duties. The pressure in his bladder relieved, the Prince set out to find the Banqueting Hall. However, the Palace, which had been built by stages over several centuries, by numerous architects, was a maze of corridors, rooms, passages, staircases and pathways. The Prince, ever more bemused, took wrong turn after wrong turn. Eventually he arrived at a corridor with several doors off it, which he thought he recognized. He decided to try each door in turn. Some of them were locked, some led to empty bedrooms. Then he opened one which held a bed in which a boy was asleep.
"Oops! Sorry," said the Prince, who had been taught always to be polite. He turned round to leave the room, but something about the boy in the bed caught his attention. For a start, he hadn't seemed to wake, or even to stir, and his breathing was very quiet.
Prince Hilarion looked at the boy, and something turned over in his heart. The boy had very long golden hair, wavy rather than curly. He had a little, straight nose with just the suggestion of a turn-up at the tip; full, pink lips, and a soft, tenderly dinted chin.
Prince Hilarion had seen a good many boys; indeed, he considered himself rather a connoisseur of youthful male beauty, but this particular one, he thought, was the beautifullest he had ever encountered.
"I say…" he began. The boy did not stir. Hilarion took the other boy by the shoulder and shook gently. Nothing happened; the boy's steady breathing did not change.
"Drat it," thought Hilarion, "I suppose I'll have to get back that to that ghastly banquet, if I can find where it is. I hope they've finished all those boring speeches."
He looked again at the sleeping boy. Princes, especially the sons of Emperors, are allowed a good deal of latitude. He leaned over, marvelling at the beauty of the boy on the bed. Then he glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure no-one was looking, then he bent over and kissed him on the lips. The boy's eyelids flickered, then opened. They were lovely eyes, blue-grey and clear, with long lashes. Prince Hilarion stared in wonder.
Prince Viridian (for of course it was he) looked up at the boy who had kissed him. He was quite tall and well-made, with dark hair that swept across his forehead and glowing brown eyes. His complexion was dark, and he had just the faintest suggestion of down upon his upper lip.
"Hello", said Prince Viridian.
"Hello yourself," said Prince Hilarion. "Who are you?"
"I'm Prince Viridian, the King's eldest son. Kiss me again. I liked it."
Prince Hilarion leaned over again, and as he kissed his new friend he felt his arms come around his neck, pulling him down.
"I'd better get up," said Prince Viridian, yawning. "They'll be looking for me. Golly, I'm stiff, you'd think I'd been asleep for years, not a few hours!"
By now the Palace was filled with servants looking for Prince Hilarion, and one appeared in the doorway. "Your royal highness is expected in the Banqueting Hall for the toasts," he said.
"I'll come with you," said Prince Viridian, unwilling to let his handsome new friend out of his sight. They walked side by side behind the servant, holding hands.
As they entered the Banqueting Hall, the Emperor was just finishing his speech. Every eye was upon them, and King Hildebrand went as white as his handkerchief. "What the…" he muttered under his breath.
"Hello, Father," said Prince Viridian. "I'm sorry to be so late… what is this banquet in aid of?"
The Prime Minister, the Chancellor and several other big-wigs who were in on the secret of Prince Viridian's slumbers also all went white and muttered under their breaths. The Prime Minister, indeed, called upon the Deity, and in the most personal terms.
"Look, Papa," said Prince Hilarion to the Emperor. "Look who I've found. Isn't he lovely." For he was rapidly falling in love with the other Prince.
"What, what!" replied the Emperor. "He's the King of Tratvia's son. You must mind your manners with him."
"Your majesty," said Prince Viridian to the Emperor, "The Prince's manners are faultless; he is as courteous as he is handsome. Your majesty should be very proud of him."
"What, what!" said the Emperor again. "What?"
"Yes, your Majesty," said Prince Viridian. And with your majesty's consent I desire to present him to my father the King."
There was nothing for the Emperor to do but to agree as graciously as he might. Then Prince Hilarion, catching his friend by the hand, led him around the room to where the Emperor sat.
"Papa, this is Prince Viridian, the heir to the Throne of Tratvia. He is my friend. Indeed, he is my very special friend."
Prince Viridian knelt on one knee. The Emperor held out his hand which Prince Viridian kissed, before standing again.
"Ho! Hildebrand! called the Emperor. "Where have you been hiding this lad?"
"Papa," asked Prince Hilarion quietly, "When we go back home, can Viridian come to stay? For a little while?"
"if you wish," said the Emperor, "but you must ask the King's permission."
Poor King Hildebrand was so put about, what with the Banquet, and all the fuss and upheaval in the Palace, and then Prince Viridian suddenly waking up three years early, that he would have given permission for anything. Accordingly, the next day the Emperor and Empress, with Princess Alexandra and Princes Hilarion and Viridian, set forth upon the special express train back to Rohenia.
The friendship (as everyone else saw it) between the two Princes flourished exceedingly. The King of Tratvia found that with a little subtlety suggestions might be made which, conveyed from himself to his son, and thence to Prince Hilarion and thus to the Emperor, eased his mind considerably. And as for Prince Florian… well, once he was sure that his elder brother (whom he had rather missed) was back, he was delighted. Prince Viridian had said to him, "Look, old fellow, I'm ever so sorry you won't get to be King after all. Well, not unless something happens to me in the mean time."
"Sorry?" repeated Prince Florian. "I'm not sorry, not the least bit. You have to be King, and sit through endless Cabinet meetings with all those boring old windbags, while I get to go on Adventures, and rescue Princesses, and all that kind of thing. Yoicks, yippee, what!"
And as for Princes Viridian and Hilarion, what they did together when no-one was looking was no-one's business but their own. Suffice it to say that they found each other's company very pleasing, and the result of their activities highly satisfying.
The months went by, and Prince Hilarion reached the age of sixteen. He had a magnificent party, with fireworks, and the Prince's Own Regiment mustered outside the Palace and marched, and saluted, and let off guns, to the admiration of all beholders.
The Emperor called his son to him and said, "Now, my boy, you are of age to marry. What do you think of Princess Glutea Maxima of Boumania?"
"Oh, no, Papa, she has the most enormous wobbly…"
"Or," interrupted the Emperor rapidly, Princess Equitanie of Stabuloria?"
"Oh, no, Papa. She has enormous teeth and looks like a horse."
"Or how about…"
"Oh, Papa, I already know who I am going to marry."
"Oh really? And who might that be?"
"Viridian, of course!"
"What!" roared the Emperor. "What, what?"
"I'm going to marry Prince Viridian. We love each other to bits."
"You can't. You can't marry a boy. You're a boy yourself. You just ask the Archbishop. He'll tell you."
"I've already asked the Archbishop. He hummed and hawed a great deal, then said he'd have to look up his references. But I had a letter from him the day before yesterday – here it is, if you'd like to see it – and he says that he'll only need to alter one word in the marriage service, and it can be done."
"Well, you'll have to ask the Grand Vizier."
"I did. He dithered and delayed a great deal, then said he'd have to consult the Constitution. But I had a letter from him yesterday - here it is, if you'd like to see it – and he says that there's nothing in either the Legal Code or Case Law that says it can't be done."
The Emperor put his head in his hands.
"Look on the bright side, Papa. Me marrying Viridian will make two people very happy…"
"Who?"
"Viridian and me, of course. I know you and Mamma will want grandchildren, but you've plenty of other sons and daughters to do that for you. But my mind's made up. And if you forbid the match, we'll just live together until you die, and then when I'm Emperor I will change the law. I could make a law that boys must marry boys, and girls must marry girls. That'd be a good idea."
The Emperor knew when he was beaten. He sighed deeply.
"All right, then, you go ahead and marry your Viridian. But – mind! – there's to be no divorcing and marrying someone else, or any nonsense of that kind. You ask the Archbishop, and the Grand Vizier, and they'll tell you."
"I don't need to, Papa. Viridian and I adore each other, and that's not going to change."
And so the wedding took place, in the great Cathedral of Berlondis, the capital city of Rohenia. The Archbishop presided, assisted by the Archbishop of Tratvia (being such a small country, it only had one Archbishop). Outside the Cathedral, all the people rejoiced (the people inside the Cathedral rejoiced even more, because it was very hot weather and it was cooler indoors). When they came out there was cheering and blowing of horns, there were flags and bunting and everyone wore their best. And there was free beer for all the men and free lemonade for the ladies, and free ice cream for all the children, so everyone was happy.
Well, in the fullness of time the Emperor and the King of Tratvia grew old, and died, and were mourned by their respective peoples as they had been on the whole quite good rulers. And the Age of the Two Kings began. Hilarion and Viridian became Emperor and Emperor of Rohenia, and they also became King and King of Tratvia. And they swore everlasting friendship between the two countries, and guaranteed that Tratvia would always be independent. And Hilarion instructed his Grand Vizier to discover a mistake in the accounts; it turned out, once he had done so, that Tratvia had never borrowed any money from Rohenia.
They became known as King Hilarion the Gay, and King Viridian the Beautiful. And during their reign quite a large number of young men fell in love with other young men, and married them. And they all lived happily ever after.
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