HIS NAME VIKINGS: 3

Dawn had arrived, as fast as the night’s songs, chats, and happiness had drifted away. I was busy checking my clothes, which had been cleaned by the maids, which I appreciated. My thoughts could not process my loss from the previous night, but I scraped them off as fast as a frown formed on my face. I wore simple, elegant clothes and decided to walk out of my room, of course wondering why no one had come to wake me up. My room was set upstairs, on the central left corner, first door.

Watching below at the place that was full of people, the chairs had already been set and breakfast put into place for us to take. Some guests were still available, and their children, I’d love to say, were there. The children were not as young; I’d love to expound that they were slightly older than me and others had already started their families.

When one of the guests, not knowing her name, came into my presence as I was slowly climbing down the stairs, when she respectfully stated, "Hello, how was your night? Please welcome and enjoy the breakfast." She was quite straightforward with her statement, and of course I was confused. My confusion was not only set on the guest’s acts but also on the fact that everyone in this family acted like I knew them, with which, I guess, I masked as much as possible, for it would be disrespectful for me to state directly into their faces, ‘I don’t know you.' I however, joined them for breakfast, with each perfectly seated around the table, and of course the lady of the house and the viscount on the high chairs facing each other in the opposite direction. Today, I placed myself next to William’s sister, with whom I had not once had a chance to speak to. I took some bread and tea and started eating, as others had done too. They all started cracking jokes about the previous night, based on gossip about various spinsters rejected by eligible bachelors and, of course, about the failures of mamma's who so much wanted their sons and daughters to marry. Of course, this is what happened to everyone, especially the ladies, who were not eligible to get married in the subsequent season.

According to the rules, the most successful lady was that who secured a suitor on the first season of her debut. Successful indeed. For me, I had failed; the word I so much hated. As I was absorbing the words they all were talking about, one of the ladies asked me, "His lordship, Vikings. Right? How do you love your stay here, in comparison to the Duke’s?" Of course, everyone's eyes were redirected to me, from the farthest corner of the dinner table to William’s sister, who was next to me. Clearing my throat, I firmly stated, "The place is exquisite. I love the climate, and the land, as my uncle took me to observe, looks quite healthy and well taken care of, I manifest a beautiful and gratifying harvest." As if absorbing the words, all of them looked at each other in adjustment when one stated, "Am glad you love the place." And with that, I just nodded and refocused on my drink, with which I was halfway through. Perhaps it would be better to go see other places in the new land. But they seem to yearn for my talks, and another question was posed, "How has been your life under the Duke’s care, if you don’t mind?" That question was not one many, if any, ever asked me, for I hated people who yearned to check and seek, as if filling gaps in their suspicions about my past. But seeing the sincerity of the question, on the look of the eyes of the one who had set it, I just swallowed a sip of tea and started, "Am not quite familiar with my pasts, firstly, but the much I recall is that Father has always been by my side." Hearing me say father made all of them look at me as if astonished, but that, I did not care, for I knew of course, he wasn’t my father. But on my heart and my brain, on this life and maybe the next, despite his blood not running through my veins, the duke, he who gave me a shelter, a place to live, and encompassed or rather ignored the fear of shame of living with a bastard son, will forever remain my father, and so I continued, " From when we relocated, from the Lake of Tigris, to when he accepted and took the responsibility as a duke. Father has taught me a lot, and his knowledge encompasses my stay and my thoughts on each and every land I visit. I am quite familiar with languages, and calculations are no part of that little matter. In simple terms, he has raised me well, and in case of any wrongs I may do now, I would love to lay no claims against him, for he never made a mistake on his teachings on my values." Everyone, even the viscount, attentively listened to me, processing, analyzing, and maybe tabulating each and every word I spoke. The lady continued, "Your words, so acknowledge his teachings. You are so well-informed, and the respect you show everyone says so much." And with that, I just inwardly smiled, because compliments always flattered me, when the viscount also joined, "So Vikings. I assume yesterday was the first dance. Would you mind sharing?" As I wanted to speak, I heard William interrupt, "Father, I’d love to share mine first." Seeing signs of disappointment on the Viscount’s face, he just let his son speak, and everyone listened: "Father, I met the princess. Her dancing skills are beautiful, and she told me she loves singing too. I won in front of the thousands of bachelors who wanted her hand. Isn’t that outrageously great?" The viscount did not say a word. He just seemed preoccupied, as if deeply thinking of his son’s actions, when he suddenly stated, shoving his son’s words, "Am delighted for everyone who made yesterday a memorable day. I am sure we have all made quite great bonds and friendships in general. I excuse myself." And with that, he left the place, and toward his office, he entered. From the corner of my eye, I could see everyone watching each other, but none altered a word. My tea had finished, and I so much wanted to leave; I wanted to visit the city. Maybe bribe one of the soldiers to walk me around. That, too, would be quite awesome, and with that, I slightly stood before everyone, slightly bowed, and then stated, "The breakfast was perfect; I’d love to liken it to a feast for the eyes and a certain delight for me. I excuse myself, dearest ladies and lordships." And with that, I left the place when one of the young men, guests, approached me from behind as I was heading outside, slightly caught my shoulder, and stated, "His lordship, the viscount, hates the actions of his son." I just quite chuckled at that and decided to play along: "He seems to be trying hard to catch the viscount’s attention." And with that, we both laughed when he asked me, as we reached the street, "Where are you heading? Sorry, my manners. I am Henry, and the Viscount is my uncle. I would love to state or brag." The young man’s sense of humor made me chuckle. He sure was no different from me, and I knew this would be my first friend in the new town. I hoped, and with that, in a low tone, I stated, "I wish to set eyes on the perfections of the city. Both sides, I mean. Especially the other side." I assume he understood what I meant by the other side. The lowest class, the have-nots, those who pigs would easily feed on their wounds, faces blemished, hands hardened, and life set no future. That side, the side that reminded me much of the Lake of Tigris with Father, in that side of the province, being the only noble man. I recall, when other nobles visited faces of disgust and hate would be observed plastered on their faces. And as I thought Henry stated, "Come, (heading to the stables), I have a friend too; she’s pretty; she can sing. I’d love to visit her as we observe the city. But seeing her will be maybe at night, for this city is full of rumors." After reaching the stables, he asked one of the guards if we would head outside, and it seemed they were used to sneaking out of the viscount’s place. He asked us to enter the carriage, and we left.

As I carefully studied the looks, fragrance, and vegetation that embraced the lands of London, Henry cleared the silence, "So, Willock? With whom did you embrace your virgin dance skills?" With his statement, I laughed quietly and just stated, "My eyes were cornered by one woman. But she had a suitor." Henry touched his heart, as if seeming heartbroken for my failures, when he stated, "You're not a man to play with different females, aren’t you?" With that, I decided to just perfectly reply, "No. None amazed like she, but well, I'm not the type to steal." Henry just laughed at my statement, and looking outside, he blurted, "Sometimes you have to steal. Beautiful ladies go quite fast." I just did not have a statement for that, but I would never let his statement change my stands, so I arguably quoted his statement by stating, "But we all know, the sunnier a lady shines, the quicker she can blister." After stating that, we both laughed, and he stated, "You sure got some lines out there, brother. I love that." And with that, the carriage stopped, and Henry approved me to leave the carriage, as we left the guard guarding it. He, in front, directed me into some old, furnished corridor, and inside I would hear voices talking in high tones. We reached the place; the tavern was old, dimly lit, and full of all kinds of people. My logic would ask, Who drinks during the day? But, well, I prefer not judging. This was the capital, full of all lights, lives, and loves, when I heard one of the big-bodied gentlemen say in a loud voice, "The lordship Henry, I see you’ve come to flourish the place with your arrival." I saw Henry chuckle at that, and with that, they strongly greeted each other and hugged, acknowledging their friendship, when Henry stated, looking at him and then at me, "Hey, the duke’s son, Vikings." The man looked at me, studying my clothes and my looks, and stated, "His looks don’t come close to the Duke's, but his features resemble the King’s." And with that, everyone in the pub laughed, which too made me chuckle, for that was a weird joke, an unimaginable when I stated, "His highness wouldn’t love to see you after the words." And with that, we greeted him when he directed us to a small room. The room had one light at the center, but it was surrounded with nothing but art. From books to lordships, his highness, to the arts of fully clothed women and some naked, as I’d hate to explain. I was never quite taught about the woman’s body, but seeing how their chests expanded, how their hair grew silk, and how their voices certainly softened to the most melodious ones, I would certainly state they were quite different from us. Father had taught me about my acts and mindsets towards women as he always stated, ‘They may have the voluptuous bodies, melodious voices, and perfect facial compressions, but she, is the most cunning of all. Especially that person who sells her flower for a painting.' Father’s words always kept me upright, and I don’t care how much people would reprimand it; for me, those words were the only speeches of hope. Henry took a seat at one of the stands, and I saw him starting to throw some watery things onto the white wood that was in front of him, and so I approached to watch his actions. He was painting. I was never good at painting, inasmuch as I wished my hands would curve the curves. Even Monalisa was the most difficult face I would ever paint, and Dicaprio did so very well to be remembered. I loved poetry though, and since Henry seemed to enjoy his paintings, I decided to explore the pictures. They were cultivating, one was the river, flowing so well, and the other was the sun adjacently embracing the nature above the universe on the east, beautiful, I stated underneath my breath. The next were lordships, in which I took little interest. I watched all of them one by one, starting with King Henry the First, the queens, the viscounts, and the dukes, with Father also being greatly depicted in the pictures. How well would someone imagine of father with whom had no time to sit for hours for paintings after his coronation as the duke? When the pictures of the Viscount caught my interest, The families seemed familiar, with one of the pictures bearing a striking resemblance to the lady who had earlier spoken to me about my stay here. However, one picture caught the delusions of my eyes; it was painted off a young lady. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and a flower was placed in the center of her head. She had ocean blue eyes, and her lips were well shaped and painted red. Her hands were white-gloved when Henry stated from his seat, "That’s Isla. Her lady, Isla Hirlvington, She looked exquisite when she was young. She was my favorite aunt." Hearing her name, of course, I knew. Every day, we celebrated her anniversary, and my father always made sure to visit the Lake of Tigris to place flowers and clean her graveyard. She was my mother. I felt my eyes water, but luckily, with the dimming lights, Henry could not see. She was exquisite in the paintings; I wonder how she looked in real life. Who had made her sin? Why would some noble man put her in such a state of shame? Questions that fled my mind were as many, with no one to answer when Henry stated, as he approached the stance in which I stood, in a low tone as if not wanting anyone to speak, "You see, she made some wrong turns and was deceived by his highness. His highness was betrothed and suited to the princess of France for a peaceful negotiation. And before she knew the King would never fold marriage ties with her, she was already pregnant." I did not say a word, but I so much wanted to know more, like, did the king care? Or maybe something happened when Henry continued, “She, however, died while giving birth. And rumors state two different theories: that the son is alive and the other that the son died together with the mother." I did not want to add anything to that; shock petrified my face, The King. Was His Highness to be my father? But I wasn’t sure. I loved the paint, though, and I just decided to say, "I’d love to buy the paint." Henry laughed at that and just stated, "That paint is too old to waste your money. How about checking on the exposed and naked features of the ladies there? (Pointing at the corner.) My eyes were, however, petrified by the picture. No not petrified, they wanted. I wanted that picture. The picture that I would look at from morning to evening and that which I would tell of my sorrows, fears, and wails. Sometimes, even when I was young, when my father would tell me of her death, I would feel sorrowful, in that knowing that I was the cause of her greatest despair. I never truly deserved this. The man of the paints came, and I decided to speak on my own, leaving the statements that Henry had made: "I’d love to buy this piece of art, sir." And with him scanning the art, he stated, as if in retrogression of my quest, "Why her?" I just had no answer to that, but I lamely stated, "She seems perfect for my room." He just did not say a word, but removed the picture, wrapped it with some old rugs of clothes, and gave it to me. "How much, sir?" I stated, when he just stated, "She’s worth no penny; you can have her as her free transfer." And stating that he tried to laugh, but both Henry and I did not alter a word but looked at him in shock till he apologized for his acts. She was my mother, the one who bore me. In as much as she would be one of those who sell their bodies for money, I would never feel ashamed of calling her mine; even if it meant death, I would follow her. Maybe society was so tight on women.

After the conversation, Henry guided me off the place, and we entered the carriage for our departure, when he started, "My apologies for his acts." I had nothing to say to that. He had all the rights to laugh at my yearning for the paint. But Henry continued, "I know your roots, Willock. We all know, the family. We do. I understand your hurts. I have wanted to contact you but wasn’t sure if you were hers. Today, seeing you observe this picture, which no one ever did, I knew and understood. For again, the Viscount never invited someone and treated him with as much respect and endearment as he did to you. But you are quite good at hiding your identity. I love it." With his words, I felt cornered and utterly alone. Everyone knew my past, but I alone knew nothing, and so I decided to ask me, "Is the King to be my father then?" He just laughed at that and stated, "I'm not quite sure. For the Duke, your father, had eyes for Lady Isla, who stayed with him till the time of your birth, so you are still a puzzle. We are not quite sure of your backgrounds, but your eyes quite resemble her lady, despite the fact that I was four years old when I first and last met her." I did not say anything. Father never stated anything when it comes to concerns about who my real father is. For he always dodged the question as fast as he could or just stated he was my father. But now I know that Hirlvington was never my father, as I thought. Maybe, in as much as my life was a puzzle to others, for me it was more of a betting game or guesswork. I was so used to it, I guess.