WILLOCK 38

Beers and alcohol-stimulated drinks were never my pact of yearning. I was not actually a lad brought up in a beer drinking or any narcotic drug taking world, but I had indulged myself in some drug taking, not only in my educational travels but also in the Lake of Tigris. Other times were during the ballroom dances; however, the type of beer prepared in our nation was quite different from this. This was quite intriguing, and it seemed to really have a deep and quite numbing effect on anyone. I would prescribe it for someone who is disturbed.

On my wake, the curtains were drawn, and the sun rays were heftily gazing at me, as if questioning me why I had been asleep for so many hours. It was quite late for me to wake up, I guess. I was quite dizzy, and my head was painfully hurting. I could not feel my face from the numbness, and on checking Amir's area of sleep, the bed was neatly arranged, and a paper was so neatly written at the side of my bed, which caught my curiosity to read. 'Hey Willock, meet me at the back yard. Amir.' Simple words. I had still not been told when and how I was going to start my work. I had not heard of any plans for them to start a party where I would be joyfully caressing the piano in front of me as all the visitors danced to the classical music, which I so much loved.

My clothes were well set on the drawer, nicely folded, and it seems the bath tub had already been filled with water. I did not want to check the temperatures. First things first, I was not ready to have some helpers on hand to shower. I am quite a grown man; I should be doing this on my own. So, I swiftly did the showering and put on the prince wears well; it even seemed someone had taken that which I wore the previous day, and this was new, as the leggings were navy blue and the cardigan had navy blue strips other than the red stripped clothes I wore the previous day. They had quite nice clothes; actually, I don't think our princes wore anything like this, or maybe they did; it was me who had never paid much attention to them. I checked myself on the reflection after making my bed, something I had learned to do on my own during my stay in the hotel. I checked my hair, still remembering the complaint from the princess, and so I decided she wouldn't see this hair, and that when I decided on wearing the cap today, it had navy blue and white strips at the center, and all white. I felt more like a general commander in chief of the English Kingdom, because, to be honest, this is how they sort of dress. I wish this place had an artist to somehow paint me a painting that, on occasion, one day I shall be able to stand by myself and have my own children. As opposed to the many obstacles that surround me, I shall show them as I tell them the story of my past.

After all the grooming sessions and a few check-ups with myself, I opened the door and left the chambers. I was still feeling like a low-life individual, but somehow I held my head high because of the way I saw the maids and officers of the castle respect me. They seemed to really respect me, and I was not sure what I had actually done to deserve it; however, maybe it was because I was the friend of the prince.

"You are quite early; I did not expect you now." Amir stated that as I arrived in the backyard, somewhere I was escorted by one of the guards. He was carrying a sword and seemed to be practicing with it. In these Arabian kingdoms, it seemed they were always on a yearn for fighting; they still fought for borders, yearned to extend their borderline, and everything of that sort. "You a swords lord?" He asked now, coming closer to wherever I stood. He was not wearing much; he had removed his cardigan and his cap, a little folded his shirt, and looked more like Amir than the serious man he somehow behaved to be.

"We can throw dice on that." I told him as I heard him call on one guard to bring a sword.

"Where did you learn how to use swords, Willock?"

"Father, he runs a smithing business; why wouldn't I know?"

"Pretty much." He stated, and right when the guard came with the sword, the two princesses—prince Hasmin and her younger sister came.Her sister was quite the same height as Hasmin, but she had darker and longer hair. They were both beautiful, I would say, but the sister seemed to embrace lighter feminine energy; she seemed to be quite understanding, quite different from Hasmin's intimidating character. I don't even know why I was actually thinking much of Hasmin's sister while she was eyeing me, but they both—let me say, let me do some compliments—were quite a catch for any man. I wonder how weddings—I mean, royal weddings—are done in Arabia, especially here in Iraq. The style of wedding, I am sure, is not similar to ours, where one has to be presented to the almighty God, and then the royal chambers, then suddenly different palaces, one for the queen and the other for the king, where they would live until one needed another.

"Sisters." Amir stated this in a rather proud and happy tone.

"You are not getting our guest on sword games, brother." Her sister stated, which made Amir smile as he raised his eyebrows a little. He seemed to be fond of the younger, while he was quite hard on Hasmin. Hasmin was just listening to the two bonding when suddenly her eyes met mine, and I don't know how or why, but somehow I was hardly staring at her too, and I seemed to find it harder not to stop the stare. The sun rays seemed to just illuminate her skin, as her flawless black hair that was perfectly placed in a burn seemed to nurture and showcase her perfect chin. However, the moment her eyes met mine, I took some seconds on her and just looked away, as I always did, like a woman, I always said to myself, but I never understood why I was never man enough to like face a woman face-to-face on account of liking or when I found her beautiful.

"Would you like our guest, his name Willock, to play for us a piano?" Amir asked, and they all nodded in unison.

We entered the large castle into a larger building, which I presume was the music room, as it consisted of all sorts of musical instruments, from violins to guitars and all. I knew to play the guitar; the flute and violin were easier, but I somehow had a liking for pianos. Maybe it is the fact that my father had given me a stand behind it for many years, especially during all the occasions since he inherited his brother's wife and became the duke.

"Now, Willock, embrace yourself." Amir stated as I sat on the piano and started clicking on the chords one by one to Mike test if all were working or if they were out here just stating the piano while it was not working.

"Which songs are to your liking?" I asked, and I saw the sister, whom I did not know, make a huge smile as suddenly the other princes entered the room, making crazy noises about Amir's friend playing the piano and all that.

"He finally spoke," she stated, and I was automatically paused and shocked. Did she seriously think I was dumb?

"Do you like hunting? Is that good English?" One of the boys asked.

"My name is Willock; I come far away from the lands of a nation led by a king." I started, and I suddenly saw all of them look at me as if anticipating my next story, as Amir suddenly left and I was left with the rest. "The land is quite huge; it is bright; the skies are blue; the people are a mix of white and black; the soils are fertile; who would guess its name?"

"They speak English." The youngest boy stated that. He seemed to be much more interested in the story than the others.

"Willock was just playing for us the piano; he shall be our pianist." Hasmin stated, directly throwing away, or rather cutting off, or washing away, the story and the ideas I had on how to make what I wanted to tell these handsome princes much more interesting. Maybe that's how I learned why I was needed here—they wanted a pianist. As Hasmin stated, I started the chords as I decided to play the song that mostly reminded me of my past, when I was happy. The past, when my father would wake me up to take letters to the post office; the past, when I first met the princess at the river taking a bath, which suddenly made me smile, and I hoped she hadn't noticed that; the past, where I did not think anything past Friday night; the past, when my life seemed to just follow a curtained agenda of just being a duke. I suddenly felt sad, and I don't know what happened, but I stopped playing. They did not know; I had stopped the music before the end, for they just clapped as they ran outside the room. As it was stated that lunch time had arrived, I guess I woke later than expected.

"You play so well." Hasmin stated that, as we were left alone in the room,

"Thanks." I stated this as I rose from the seat.

"You did not finish it." She added, which made me face her.

"How are you to know?"

"You never finish it, even at the event back in the hotel."

"Don't pressure it." I stated, hoping she would understand why I wanted her not to ask the song question or anything about it. She slightly nodded and wanted to leave. When I caught her hand and suddenly stopped that act, I just wanted to stop her from leaving. "I shall tell you my reasons; I shall end the song some day; I am not sure when; maybe one day." I realized I was suddenly speaking too much; it was something that she made me do. She made me speak much more than I initially anticipated, as I wanted to keep most things to myself. She just did not say anything but left with a little nod, and I knew she might have been, or I might have been. I should have not caught her hand. We never do that. We should never do that. She had no gloves on, but here they barely wear them, and I suddenly was in a war with myself—a bad war indeed concerning a princess.