Ten days after Ferractus’ meeting in the tent with Charlois, Al Hadi sat sprawled on his lounge throne ingesting his usual, mid-morning repast. As typified the routine, his young fan-maidens were close at hand fanning him lazily with their over-sized palm fronds—more to keep the flies from the food than to cool the sultan. (The temperature of the early, summer morning’s air in Tuscany was quite mild and pleasant if the truth be told!)
He took a section of an orange that had been peeled for him, popped it in his mouth, chewed it a few times and then gulped it down. Looking to his secretary general, who’d been summoned earlier and was standing close at hand, he asked with forlorn expectation, (for he already knew the answer) “Have any riders arrived today?”
“No, Magnificence.” was the curt reply.
Al Hadi frowned. “Hmm.” He looked to Floripas, who he could see remained unmoved by the secretary general’s report.
“Our prisoners are guilty!” he declared to her obvious dismay. He hurried on, not wanting or waiting for a response. “Charlois will keep the girl; and the escorts I sent with her, he’ll use to trade for my hostages!” He sat up, looked to the heavens, held up both hands and complained irritably, “I wish I were a smarter man!” Then he had second thoughts. “But then, I’d have to be king and I’d never have any peace at all!”
Berenger, who at this point was almost never out of Floripas’ sight, stepped up from in back of the little fan maidens. “Please don’t give up yet, Lord Al Hadi,” he pleaded. “Mitaine’s only a few weeks overdue. Most likely, she had a hard time finding the king. Enemy invaders can move fast and, under the right conditions, cover great distances at times.”
Al Hadi wanted to believe him but the count’s rationale was careworn at best. “I hope you’re right son. But, with every day that passes now, my heart sinks a little bit deeper into despair.”
Floripas was quick to support her intended’s argument. “Father, Berenger’s right! I know he is! We’ve been together almost constantly these past few weeks. No man can hide the truth in his heart from any woman for that long.”
She seemed so hopeful and enthusiastic; how could he deny her? “I hope you’re right… for everyone’s sake,” was his foreboding reply.
Before he could finish commenting, the palace herald appeared in the grand entryway. Trumpets blared, interrupting the discussion in progress.
Everyone turned their attention to the herald in anticipation of his forthcoming announcement.
As soon as the trumpets were silent he cried out at the top of his lungs, “All hail in the court of Achmed Al Hadi the Magnificent! The emissary to King Charlois, the Countess of Burgundy and cousin to His Majesty the King seeks audience with the Sultan of Tuscany!”
Al Hadi was beside himself and made no attempt at hiding his surprise. “My word! Suddenly my prayers are being answered before I can even dream them up and ask them!”
All present held their breath and watched with anxious anticipation and a good bit of relief, expecting to see the little page they’d sent off almost two months earlier appear. To the surprise of all, a beautiful young woman with a golden diadem ringing her forehead appeared in the doorway instead, bedecked in regal splendor.
She wore a shimmering, green gown of the finest silk imported from the East. It had a short train edged in golden threaded brocade.
Her hair was done up in a rolled pile of braids stacked straight atop her head. Over them and anchored by the diadem tracing her forehead was a matching green cheesecloth wrap, that flowed down her back, almost touching the floor.
The gown was long-sleeved ending in cuffs of gold brocade. It had a low-cut bodice that revealed modest cleavage set off by an emerald, princess-style necklace set in gold. Two small girls who acted as court ushers smiled as they carried her train past the court trumpeters and palace guards lined up to either side.
The look on Al Hadi’s face revealed that he was at once mesmerized by the beauty of the enchanting royal at the foot of his throne-platform and, at the same time, thoroughly confused. There was apparently a spectacular mix-up in progress brought on by his court herald’s lack of attention to detail.
He looked down upon the smiling face of the beautiful enchantress standing in front of him and in a conciliatory and apologetic tone of voice commenced. “But they announced the entry of my emissary to the king! Dear Lady; I mean no disrespect and hope you’ll forgive me in asking your pardon, but I’m afraid you’ll have to stand aside, as I’ve been waiting to hear news of an urgent matter that simply cannot wait.”
A sly smile crossed the face of the young beauty at his feet. “More urgent than the news I bring you?”
The Sultan felt awkward and embarrassed. “I’m sorry; please forgive me, but yes—it’s about my son’s life.” Surely, he reasoned, whoever this enchanting creature before him was would understand and forgive him.
“Then I’m the one you’re waiting for,” she answered smugly with an air of regal satisfaction on her brow.
Now the Sultan was completely stumped. “How so? Who are you?”
The mysterious young lady, obviously a royal of some distinction, seemed miffed and mildly baffled by the sultan’s lack of insight. “Sultan, this is not the time for jesting. Do you really not recognize me? Lady Mitaine? Countess of Burgundy? Cousin of King Charlois? The knight’s page you sent out on the wild, open road almost two months ago to find and fetch you back your son?”
The girl’s words were completely unnerving. Al Hadi almost came undone. His countenance changed immediately as he struggled mightily to retain his composure in front of all the courtiers at hand, who were watching in silent awe.
“Oh, my heavens!” he cried out as his nut-brown face flushed, becoming even darker. “Saints preserve me!” he exclaimed, as he threw his hands out, then up and down with quick, jerky animation. “It’s all true!” he shouted to no one in particular as beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and ran from beneath his turban.