The Return of An Emissary

Warning : This is Satire, A la Voltaire in his Candide

I've submitted this twice before. Once to another writer's club. Once to Gather when I first joined. Both times the response was miserable.

I'm hoping that this time, by a stroke of good luck, I will get more than the previous four comments.

A large opulent Eastern palace. A princess is reclining on a chaise longe.A young servant girl enters and kneels. The princess nods her head just enough to indicate a permission to speak.

"O Noble Princess. A handsome stranger awaits without. He says that he has returned after traveling far and wide in your service."

"And what is this handsome traveler's name?"

"His name is Feroso. He says that you will surely know him O Great Mistress."

"Ah! My dear Feroso. He's back. Of course I know him. Send him in at once."

As she speaks she waves her fan just a little faster than before.

A well built sun tanned man with eyes that have looked into many far distances, strides in and removes his feathered hat, with a grand flourish, before kneeling.

"Ah! Feroso. My dear wandering friend. You have returned from the...what do they call it...the West? How has it been with you this past year?"

"Great lady. It has gone well but I'm filled with joy to be back again and to be here kneeling before you."

"May I ask your, dear Feroso, how did you experience the ...mmm...other side?"

He looks out of the window seemingly in deep thought.

"They treated me well enough, my Princess. As you asked, I examined their goods and partook of their foods and drinks. Alas, I must declare, I found their dishes to be bland compared to our spicy delights."

The princess delicately stifles the tiniest of yawns.

"Yes yes Feroso, that is all very well. But I desire to know more about their arts. Do they too have a culture of some sort?"

Feroso's eyes light up as he pulls a sheave of papers from a pocket.

"Ah yes, your Majesty. I anticipated your interest, your Highness. Here are some poems that I have chosen especially for you. I even had these copies made for you to read whenever you are so inclined."

She peers at the sheets of paper in his hands.

"What have you there, Feroso. What strange parchments do you hold in your hands?"

Feroso smiles proudly.

"They are A4's Madam. They are in great use over there. They are most convenient to use and can be purchased at any market stall near one".

She leans forward and her eyes sparkle.

"Well then my dear man. Kindly proceed. Read to me your love tributes".

He clears his throat and begins to speak. She notices that he is not reading from the papers.He keeps his eyes fixed on her. She leans back and smiles to herself as he speaks with the passion of a lover.

"Oh my dear inspired friend. You read with such deep inner feelings. You passion strangely disturbs me. Pray continue reading but kindly do so slowly and in your own voice."

He pauses and clears his throat again. He begins to read and then speaks with less haste. Somehow there is still the same passion in his voice. She notices that he still looks at her during the moving parts without needing to refer to his papers. She does not seem to be offended by this.

Suddenly she holds up her hand for Feroso to stop.

"Tell me Feroso. Do the people in the Other World also openly show their affections. I have heard tales told that they are warlike and ride around wildly in four wheeled chariots that belch fire and smoke".

Feroso sighs and a sadness creeps over his face.

"Alas dear Princess, that is true. Wars are so manifold that sometimes one war interrupts another one. There is much personal hardship such the story of one man. He is on secret duty and would endanger his wife by visiting her. He suffers deeply because he is not allowed to see her. In desperation often goes secretly to the fence of his garden and there secretly watches her walking between the flowers".

"Then when she finally goes inside, he moves carefully to the spot where she had been. He would then kneel, inhale the remnants of her fragrance and kiss the ground where her feet had been".

The princess had clearly become totally involved in the story. She leans forward and savours each word.

"O that is so sweet. So romantic. Tell me, my faithful friend, would you too inhale my fragrance and kiss the ground where my feet had been?"

He looks steadily into her eyes.

"Yes, dear lady. I would do that".

"And if I gave you a possession of mine, say a glove, would you treasure it. Give me your answer, Sir".

She holds the fan over her mouth but her eyes are coquettish.

"You betcha, Madam".

She suddenly sits back in her royal chair in surprise.

"You betcha? What kind of outlandish expression is that, pray?"

"It's from the New World. I met people from there on one occasion. I found them to be most fascinating. They do everything very quickly. Their phrases are indeed short. Unseemingly so. My Lady".

She looks at him with a mixture of curiosity and slyness.

'May I ask if their courtships are also so brief?"

"Unfortunately yes, Madam. Their wooing has been reduced to but a few words".

She leans as far forward as she dares.

"A few words. What few words?"

"They have a very popular but rather mundane courting phrase. It's simply 'your-place-or-mine', Madam".

She is aghast. She looks at him in total disbelief.

"What foolishness do you tell me here. Have you too now become so loveless and so without any romantic inclinations".

"OH no Princess. I still believe that courtship is like the lighting of a fire. First the fine blades of grass burn, then the twigs and then the logs begin to burn in a glorious blaze."

"Sometimes, alas, the burning falters and one must blow it back into life".

These words seem to satisfy her and she then smiles rather naughtily.

"Those are indeed beautiful thoughts, my handsome mariner. Do you know that my dear father will not be back here for two days? Will it not be pleasant for us to continue our delightful discussion in the garden?"

"That would indeed be a pleasure Madam".

They stroll over to the gardens and find a seat sheltered under a vine covered awning.

"Come tell me, my Lord of Poetry. If I should ask you with a subtle glance and sweet smile, would you dare to touch my hand and even my cheek?"

His eyes give the answer that she seems to want but she still needs to hear the words spoken by him.

"O Princess. What greater joy can there be but to touch your exquisite perfection?"

Her seduction is not yet complete. She leans closer to him and looks into his eyes a little mockingly.

"And if I should ask you to draw me close and perhaps steal a kiss?"

There is a lover's anguish in his voice. A pain caused by the conflict between desire and restraint.

"O sweet Mistress of Love. I could not bear to have all such pleasure for myself alone. May I ask, instead, if it would also be a pleasure for you, dearest lady?"

Her tone of voice reveals her mischievous feelings and her laughter her joy.

"You betcha, Sailor."