“I could remove it,” Archie said.
“No need to,” Francis said. “From this moment on, you are Prince Francis.”
“But are you allowed to do this, Francis?” Maddie asked.
“Frankly, I don’t care,” Francis told them. “I will do what I wish for once. And what I do not wish is to participate in this tournament a moment longer. I dare say Archie will fare better than I have and win me a better placement. Isn’t that the goal, after all?”
Maddie, Archie and Christian all exchanged looks and nods.
“I would fare better,” Archie boasted. “These stuff shirts won’t know what’s hit them.”
Christian looked pained. “Francis, are you sure about this? What if he makes a fateful blunder? You know how he is.”
“You two must oversee that he does not,” Francis replied. “Have Gustav assist you. Besides, I’m not worried. Archie cancharm his way out of most blunders.”
Archie grinned. “It’s true, I can.”
“Right, then, that’s settled.” Francis smiled at them. “You all go off to supper. My second, third and fourth. Inform Gustav for me. I shall retire for the evening. I bid you goodnight.”
And before they had a chance to change their minds, Francis walked away.
Chapter 9
Francis awoke the next morning in a much brighter mood.
He lounged in bed for a little while, content in the knowledge that Archie and his friends were taking over his place in the tournament. He needn’t rush to get up.
Thanks to his long hot soak in the tub last night, and the massage afterwards, Francis felt almost back to his normal self, no stiffness of limb lingering. The attendants had kindly put some sort of gooey, clay substance onto his face during his bath. It smelled herbal, and cooled his sore, sunburnt skin. After washing it off last night, his face had felt some relief. This morning it was still sore and pink, but less so.
And better yet, Francis had the whole day to himself.
Of course, he was keen to seek out his new friend, Hasim. Francis couldn’t stop thinking about him and his smile, his kind eyes, and his gentleness with the cats. He’d been so relaxed, so at ease, and showing affection so easily. Francis was enchanted.
Mind made up, he got out of bed and dressed himself. Each day, the attendants brought in different clothes, so there was plenty to choose from. Francis selected a similar outfit to yesterday, in mostly white linens to reflect the sun, and a turban with a veil attached if he needed to keep the sun off. Very practical, in his opinion.
He picked out a blue waistcoat to match his blue slippers and grabbed a red apple from the fruit bowl on his way out. He had to scale down the window trellis again, but that wasn’t a problem. Francis wanted to repeat everything he’d done yesterday in order to find Hasim. He didn’t want to accidentally get lost and find himself in the midst of the tournament and all those rival suitors. No, thank you.
Archie would handle things just fine.
* * * *
Francis walked through the beautiful, fragrant gardens, trying to remember which way he’d gone yesterday so he could retrace his steps. Luckily, a little white cat appeared underneath an orange tree, like a guide, and Francis followed her.
He came upon the same oblong shaped fishpond, surrounded by cats, and spotted Hasim immediately.
He hadn’t noticed Francis yet, as he was busy feeding the cats, so Francis had a moment to watch and admire. Hasim carried a silver tray in one hand, suspended by chains from one silver handle, like a miniature chandelier. Francis had seen the same trays being used to carry the cups of chai around the palace. Hasim’s tray had small dishes of meat cuts on it, not chai. He was bent at the waist as he distributed the dishes to the cats swarming his bare feet and ankles, and he spoke softly to them in Turkish.
Francis smiled.
When Hasim straightened up and noticed Francis watching him, Francis raised his hand in a small wave. Hasim broke into a bright smile, and beckoned Francis with his free hand to join him.
“Good morning,” Francis greeted, as he approached, hoping for a warm welcome.
Hasim didn’t disappoint, and immediately drew Francis into a one-armed hug, then kissed both his cheeks.
Francis felt his face flushing hot, and his grin was so wide it hurt his sunburnt cheeks.
Hasim pulled back and frowned slightly, assessing Francis’s face. “Yes, cover,” he said, hand touching Francis’s turban, fingers trailing down the scarf attached. “No more sun for you.”
