Christmas Cheer-Up
It was a cold and dreary December. Erik was holed up at his family's estate in Rouen. If such were possible, one could imagine a black cloud floating above his head as he sat on a long, low couch, which was upholstered in a plummy purple velvet, and paged through a book of sonnets, a glass of brandy in his hand. His heart had never recovered from the loss of the beautiful young girl, Amalia. Her death haunted him. She had died while he, she and Nadir had escaped from their various death sentences (excepting Nadir) and were so close to true rescue, when a deadly black viper bit her in the heel as she slept.
Nadir, who had suffered his own losses in life, that of his wife and young son, was philosophical about these things. Fate steps in and what can you do? Just carry on and see what adventures await you and be as cheery and kind as possible to those who did not see things the same way.
Speaking of Nadir, he was just returning from an extended trip to Paris, the nature of which Erik never bothered to ask. His friend, and now house mate was free to do whatever he liked. Though in the three weeks he'd been gone, Erik had been more morose than ever, never admitting even to himself, how much of a comfort Nadir's presence was.
Before he ventured on to the house, Nadir stopped to do some shopping in the town of Rouen. He had been accepted as an exotic wealthy eccentric and his business was never turned away. His grey stallion, Baraz, awaited him while tethered to a post. He pawed the ground, and snorted impatiently, anxious for their trip to be over. And resentful that he had become a beast of burden. Besides his saddle, Nadir had loaded him up with several saddlebags and a woven basket slung over his haunches and one of these things annoyed him especially. Soon we shall see why.
"I will have several bottles of this good wine," Nadir told the wine merchant, "And one of your best brandy." And the merchant packed them in straw in the basket Nadir presented. "Lovely" Nadir smiled. "I know someone will be well pleased, though he would never admit it". "Monsieur?" the merchant queried, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. "Oh, nothing, nothing, just laughing at an amusing thought, that is all." The merchant nodded and accepted the payment Nadir offered, tip included. Yes, this man was odd, but he was a good customer.
Next, he gathered bread from the bakery and cheese from the fromagerie. Packing all these items into the saddlebags he alighted Baraz, who reared and pawed the air with delight and took off at a gallop to make it back to the barn and dinner before nightfall.
Nadir was especially pleased with himself, as it was Christmas Eve, and although it was a holiday he'd never had cause to celebrate in his homeland, now, a citizen of France, he was excited to begin embracing the culture, and he was arriving home, Erik's abode had become his home, bearing gifts and surprises for his melancholy friend.
Erik had fallen asleep, the book on his lap, the brandy glass drained, when he heard the pounding of hoof beats, and warily rose to peer out into the dimming light. His heart lightened a bit when he saw it was his friend returning and not townspeople bearing pitchforks.
Once Nadir settled Bazra in his stall next to Erik's black stallion, Isra, and hefting several bags and the basket as best he could, staggered under their weight to the front door, which Erik had opened and stood, leaning against its frame watching Nadir approach. "Perhaps you would be so kind, Erik, as to take a few of these items from me so I can gather the rest."
"What have you done, Nadir, looted all of Paris?" he smirked as he took two heavy saddlebags from him. "Possibly," said Nadir, cheerfully. He went back to the barn and returned with the final items. Placing them in the sitting room, he removed his hat, coat and scarf and placed them on the back of a chair and went to warm himself by the fireplace. "It was a chilly few miles," he said, rubbing his hands together. Finally he turned to Erik, who stood staring at him, amidst the packages and saddlebags, and grinned at him, "Merry Christmas, Erik!"
"What? Are you mad? I'm not in the mood for celebrating. Has time in Paris gone to your head? What were you doing there, anyway?"
"Now, now, Erik. Be patient. I have brought us a feast for tonight," he unpacked the bread, cheese and wine bottles and handed the brandy to Erik, "For you, in celebration of our good fortune."
'"You have gone mad. What good fortune?"
"You shall see." He went to the wicker basket which he'd left by the door. "This, too, is for you. A gift I think you shall enjoy." Erik took the basket and unlatched it. A tiny Siamese kitten blinked up at him and mewed its discontent at the indignity it had suffered being locked in a basket and jostled about for hours. Erik found himself smiling down at it and he lifted the tiny thing out and drew it to his chest, where it took no notice of his mask, and purred contentedly.
"Her name is Ayesha," Nadir told him. "When I came upon the man selling these kittens, I thought you would see in her a familiarity. I believe she is a reborn spirit sent to look after you."
Erik, felt himself flush. He knew what Nadir was implying, and though he wanted to reply with rage, he was already in love with his kitten. "Thank you" he forced himself to say, instead.
"You are most welcome. But come, sit. There is more to tell. I have big news. An Opera House has been commissioned in Paris. I went to see the chief architect, a man named Charles Garnier. I know you would not approve of what I did, Erik, but I took some of your plans, the ones for the Shah's palace that he'd wanted destroyed, but that we smuggled out. He was so impressed with your work and designs he asked me to request that you come to see him. He wants you there by the 13th of January, when the concrete for the foundation is to be poured. He wants your input on his own design and to see if you saw areas to improve on what he envisioned. Is that not wonderful news, Erik? Your genius has been recognized, and by a genius in the field of architecture.
It will be a new career for you, for us, as I have found some apartments where we can live as you start work. And we will not forget Ayesha, now will we" he crooned at the kitten on Erik's lap.
"Nadir, I… I am at a loss for words. I think I may even be inspired by this. I am, after all, a master architect. I admit, I am looking forward to meeting this man and to seeing his plans. " He stood, cradling the kitten and walked to stand beside Nadir. "You are a true friend, Nadir. I have never said those words to another man in my lifetime. You stood by me, when I gave you no reason to. I have been sarcastic, disrespectful and unkind to you in the past, but, even when I have been these things, you never wavered in your friendship."
"It is Christmas Eve, Erik. A time to forgive and forget. And to make a new start. To begin a new journey, together. Your life was not an easy one, it has been filled with pain and rejection, but your heart is good, Erik. It knows what it is to love and to feel love in return. I believe there will be another woman to look at you with love, in your future."
Erik looked at Nadir and actually laughed. "What, now are you a fortune teller, as well, Nadir? I know a gypsy camp out there that could use one."
Nadir laughed with him and poured out two glasses of a fine red wine. "To you, my friend, Merry Christmas" He held his glass against Erik's and clinked it. Erik responded,
clinking his. "I suppose, for those that believe in those things, that this might very well be a reason to celebrate."
And with that, they sat down to a dinner of bread, cheese and wine and to other tasty items Nadir could not resist, dates, figs and honey all the way from Persia.