Chapter 11 - A game and bedtime talk
Archbishop Michael of Pyrus was the sort of man you imagine a priest should be: kind, easy going, intelligent, a good listener, not a sexist and someone who first and foremost believed in humans. He was also shrewd for he'd made it to the top of the church.
´What do you say of this vodka Joe?´ the Archbishop asked his visitor.
´It's excellent Michael.´
Joe really looked like he could use some distraction, Michael sensed. He picked up a rummikub box from the chair next to his.
´I very much like this game, but no one wants to play with me.´
Joe gave him a small smile, for he pictured Michael at age six.
´I once asked Her Majesty and she looked at me and said rummikub?´
Joe smiled again, eyes included.
´It made me feel I had suggested something naughty.´
Joe didn't like the word naughty. It reminded him of his nights. That blasted interview had given him dreams that didn't exactly focus on teasing eyes.
They were playing for some five minutes, when Michael asked Joe what was wrong.
´Well, I can't get rid of this blue eight.´
Michael checked the combinations on the table. ´No, you can't. But that's not it. What is it? Health problems?´
Joe shook his head and pretended to be glad to find a way to rid himself of an orange four and a yellow twelve. Sometimes, Michael reasoned, you just have to let the silence speak. They started another bout. Then again, sometimes two can play at that game and then you need to take action.
´Ha! I've got my thirty points!´ Michael grinned, melding his tiles on the table. ´Everything at work going well?´
´Business as usual.´
´That's good to hear.´
Joe drew a tile from the pool and so did Michael.
´Your family is all right?´ Michael asked.
Joe confirmed it. As he placed four differently coloured tiles of twelve on the table, he said: ´I'm in love.´
´Ah! So that's why you look so... pensive. Shouldn't you be sitting on a cloud?´
Joe kept staring at the tiles in front of him.
´She isn't in love with you?´
´She doesn't know.´
´Tell her!´
´I can't.´
´Why not, is she married?´
Joe shook his head and gestured that it was Michael's turn. Michael didn't even bother to check his rack.
´So? Does she know you?´
´Yes.´
´So she might have feelings for you!´
Joe snorted.
´What's that about Joe? For all you know – Oh! She's a colleague! Are you afraid that if you speak out, and she isn't interested, your professional relationship might be burdened?´
Michael hastened to explain himself for Joe gave him a stare.
´Not that I think she wouldn't be interested in you: you've got a lot to offer Joe Romero!´
Joe shook his head.
´Joe please! You are both professionals, aren't you? So if she says 'No', you can be friends. And when she says 'Yes', you'll be in heaven. What could possibly happen?´
When Joe still didn't speak, Michael thought of something. ´Do you think Her Majesty will disapprove when two of her employees are having a relationship?´
Joe took a sip from his drink.
´O really Joe. You know her better than that!´
OoOoOoO
Viscount Mabrey had invited three men over to play bridge. Gervais Santerre was his bridge partner. The others will be referred to as Tom and Jerry.
The men were now having a drink (two waters, a soda and a beer) and Gervais told his fellow men that he was glad to have escaped his family.
Mabrey smirked: ´Is she getting on your nerves with all the wedding talk?´
´Stop it. I have to act as an intermediary. Lucien and Sofia are writing their own vows and Louise hates anything that reminds her of the sixties. Our son plans to tell the whole church about what he always wanted to find in a woman and how he found it in Sofia.´
´My my,´ Mabrey said. ´And what does he want a woman to be?´
´The usual I suppose,´ Jerry replied, wiping away his white moustache. ´Pretty, smiling, caring... you name it.´
´Either Arthur can't do that,´ Gervais said, ´or his list is so long that no one can live up to it.´
All this water doesn't do him any good, Mabrey mused.
When their host remained silent, the guests started to question him.
´Well,´ Mabrey at last sighed, ´a woman should be charming and elegant.´
´If have met many such women. That makes your marital state somewhat unexplainable.´
Mabrey gave his friend an icy stare. Tom and Jerry feared it might be a short evening. But then Mabrey smirked, took a breath and said: ´Charm, elegance, poise, beauty, wit, intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, diplomatic skills, self confidence, kindness, charisma. Now, how many ladies like that do you know?´
´If you don't mind polygamy, I can introduce you to some women.´
The men laughed.
OoOoOoO
The Archbishop lit a candle.
He had not flattered his friend when he'd said that Joe had a lot to offer. Joe was intelligent, witty, kind, honourable. There wouldn't be many women who wouldn't enjoy Joe's attentions. Mothers and sisters would fall for his charms, while fathers and brothers would be in awe for his profession.
He shrugged. Joe was too modest. He'd finally found the woman of his dreams and now he didn't act. May you be granted strength, Joe Romero.
OoOoOoO
´How was your game of bridge darling?´
´Fine. Arthur and I won. And I am sure I've lost more weight than he did.´
´What did you talk about?´
´Oh, the usual,´ Gervais said, taking of his robe, ´Politics. Women.´
Louise, who lied in bed reading a novel, looked at the ceiling.
´No no, not like that. Someone said that a woman should be smiling and caring. Then I challenged Arthur to reveal what his ideal woman looked like.´
Gervais laid down next to his wife. Louise placed her book on the bedside table.
´Can you recall what he expects of Lady Perfect?´
´Poise and intelligence,´ Gervais started.
´Are you sure you talked to Arthur?´
´Shh. Beauty and wit...´
´Wit? Arthur? Arthur Mabrey?´
The Santerres drifted to sleep.
Suddenly Gervais mumbled: ´He said a woman should have charisma.´
´Right!´ Louise said with a yawn, ´All his talking about women being breed mares. He just hadn't found the right one. Until now.´
OoOoOoO
Feeling he would have difficulty sleeping, Joe went to the gym to exercise himself into obliviousness. He didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed when Michael had not pressed him for the identity of his beloved.
Beloved? He loved her, true. He loved the way she walked and the way she raised her eyebrows when something amused or annoyed her. He loved the way she approached technical devices. He relished her throaty laughter. He admired her for so many reasons: her intelligence, her poise, her kindness toward her subjects, her wit, her elegance, her devotion to her country.
Can you love someone who thinks of you as of a friend? Can you be friends with someone you call Your Majesty?
OoOoOoO
Arthur Mabrey whistled for Obelix to return to his side. The dog belonged to his aunt Agate, who had ended up in hospital with a broken leg. Mabrey liked his aunt and had offered to take care of her pet. Obelix needed long walks and since exercise helps a man to lose weight, Mabrey took the opportunity. He found that he enjoyed walking a dog. It was nice to have a companion. The Borzoi occasionally barked when he spoke (´The weather is fine Obelix´) and the Viscount had the feeling – a feeling thousands of pet owners have – that the animal understood him.
´I wonder what she thought of my note,´ the Viscount told Obelix.
The dog kindly looked at him. Mabrey nodded.
´Yes, I know I can't expect her to come to me and say...´
He sighed. ´Say what? Maybe she thinks I'm sucking up to her.´
The dog made a small noise.
Mabrey nodded: ´I know: I can't blame her.´
Man and dog walked in silence for a while.
OoOoOoO
The latest issue of CV had been an eye-opener to Arthur Mabrey.
He'd known who the hot Queen was without having to read the interview. He'd known. And not because if was logical that an actor who was interviewed by a Genovian journalist would refer to the Genovian Queen.
He'd realised he'd fallen for her. It wasn't something that had happened in the blink of an eye, he told himself. That would have been absurd. A little voice in the back of his mind mumbled something about an elevator and being smitten, but he preferred to listen to voices saying that it had been a gradual process.
Months ago she'd been that woman. And that had been the nice description. Frigid, cold, arrogant... This evening he'd heard himself describe the ideal woman and to him it had been so obvious who he was referring to, that he'd been surprised that Gervais hadn't guessed the identity of the one lady who ticked off all requirements on his list.
Surprised and relieved. It was understandable: he had not made his feelings for the Queen a secret, at least not to his friends. No one would believe that he'd fallen for Her Majesty any more than they'd believe he was attracted to Woody Allen.
How to proceed? She'd treated him more kindly than he'd deserved. Perhaps she didn't hold his previous behaviour against him?
OoOoOoO
´I could request an audience? But about what? Maybe I should just wander in the Castle's gardens more often?´
Obelix barked.
´Yes,´ Arthur agreed, ´I'll do that.´