The Heir

I look around me. Tall trees dot a series of rolling hills—pines and maples; the sky is pale blue and filled with soft white clouds. “What a wonderful place,” I say with a sigh.

“Matilda used to bring me here for picnics. No one lives for miles around, and I used to roam the hills and the woods with one of the sons of the cook.”

Dante slips his arm around my waist and stops for a moment. “You know when our child is a little older, we’ll have to bring him here too. And later on, maybe his brother or sister too.”

“Would you mind very much if our baby turns out to be a girl?”

He runs his hand through his hair, a stupid smile on his face. “The only thing I care about is for our child to be born healthy.”

“Me too,” I whisper, and he smiles into my eyes. A special smile as if we are sharing the most wonderful secret in the world. We walk a little more and I feel as if I am floating on air with sheer happiness.

“Here we are,” he says and points straight ahead. “The first of the three caves.”

“Does no one ever come here?”

“Sometimes, on weekends or holidays, but I suppose to most people it’s old hat. I just never seem to tire of the place.” He releases his arm from around my waist and grabs my hand. “Come on,” he says and starts pulling me along and running toward the entrance. I laugh and do my best to keep up with him. To be honest I’m surprised by his mood. He reminds me of a small boy eager to show me his discovery.

He stops just inside the entrance. It is dark and it takes my eyes some time to adjust to the sudden dimness.

“Don’t worry,” Dante says, “I’ll guide you.” He stops and leads me carefully inside. “Just wait till you see,” he tells me, a lilt in his voice.

“See what?” I ask.

“The paintings. Some of the best you can find anywhere.”

“How can I see anything? It’s so dark.”

“Just wait.” His voice is eager.

He leads me forward; It’s dark and I can’t see much, but I can smell the earth and the rocks all around me. Dante seems to know his way very well. His stride is sure and confident. We make a turn, and suddenly it’s light. I look up to see a round opening at the top. Then I see the paintings—dancing men and women, animals, suns, stars, plants and hunting men wearing animal disguises.

“These are all from prehistoric times?” I ask, amazed.

“Yes, among the oldest ever found on earth.”

“Wow! The colors are so vivid.”

“Aren’t they.” There is fierce pride in his voice. “They are done in bat guano.”

“Do you know how old they are?”

“Our scientists say they’re from the early Bronze age. Some believe they may even be older than one in Indonesia that is supposed to be the oldest in the world.”

“But why isn’t this more of a tourist attraction?” I ask.

“For one thing, my father decided not to broadcast the findings. He didn’t want what happened to the Lascaux Caves where the carbon dioxide of the thousands of tourists arriving everyday started to visibly damage the paintings.”

I gaze at the paintings in amazement. “How long ago were these caves discovered?”

“I was a child when a rock climber found them, but I still remember the day I heard the news. I was so excited. Even before they were authenticated I was already here with Matilda.”

“Really?”

“Look here,” he says showing me the footprint of a small child.

“Wow. This is even better than visiting a cemetery. It’s hard to imagine that this child lived thousands of years ago and left something of itself for us to find.”

“See that guy there with the big penis?”

I follow the direction of his hand. Indeed, there is a man with an extraordinarily large erection. “Yeah?”

“That’s how you make me feel.”

He grasps my shoulders and draws me toward him. “You thought I was kidding when I said I wanted to get you alone in the caves, didn’t you?”

“Well … I must confess I had hoped.”

“I’ve always liked a hopeful girl,” he murmurs as his lips descend on mine, warm, fiery and demanding. His scent floods my senses and I lose myself in him. My hands rise up to entwine in the silky hair at the nape of his neck as I press myself against his hard body and kiss him back until the world falls away and I can no longer think straight.

“Rosa,” he whispers slowly, as if it is a magic incantation. Never has my name sounded so wonderful before. My heart flutters in my chest.

“What?” I gasp breathlessly.

The moment is shattered by the sound of his cellphone ringing. He pulls his phone out and looks at it. He looks at me and says, “Hold that thought,” before taking the call and saying joyfully, “Oncle.”

“No, I’m sorry, but Rosa has to nap in the afternoon. In her condition, she gets tired too easily.” He pauses to listen, his eyes on me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.” He pauses again. “All right, great.” Another pause. “Of course, we’ll be there.” Another pause. “No, no. Just a snack will do. Okay. We’ll see you in … half-an-hour.”

He looks at me. “Can I take a raincheck on ravishing you? My uncle wants me to bring you around to his house.”

“You want me to meet him dressed like this?”

“You won’t meet a man less concerned with the way you look than my uncle.”

As we walk back to the car he tells me about the man who was more a father to him than his own.

Chapter 30

Rosa

Dante’s uncle lives in a large, gated house. The grounds are filled with trees. His uncle and aunt are waiting outside to meet us. To my surprise, he looks like an older version of Dante. In the car, Dante explained that his uncle is actually his mother’s brother.

His aunt hugs me warmly before she opens her arms out to Dante. Instead of hugging her, Dante sweeps her off the ground and whirls her around while she screams with laughter and begs him to put her down. I cannot help but smile to see Dante so happy. It is a completely different Dante than the one of last night in the company of his father and stepmother.

By the time he consents to put her down her face is quite red and glowing. She turns to me breathlessly. “Oh, he is a terrible one, my boy.”

We are shown to a sunny room where cakes and sandwiches have been set on a table. A maid starts pouring out tea for us and Helen politely asks about me. My job, my life in England, where Dante and I first met. The conversation is easy and pleasant. All the while his uncle smiles and nods and says almost nothing. He waits until we are almost finished eating before he asks the question that has no doubt been burning in his chest.

“Will you become King, Dante?”

Dante frowns. “No, Oncle. I won’t. You know how I feel about blood succession. If Father wants he can pick Linnus to be his successor.”

His uncle’s face hardens. “Your father does not have the right to pick a successor of his choice. You are his successor. It is time for you to stand up and be counted. To take charge. It is your responsibility. You are failing in your duty for your country.”

“Oncle, you know how I feel about monarchy. If I had my way, this country would be a democracy.”

For the first time, Anton shows his frustration. He bangs his fist on the table making the teacups rattle.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Look around you, at all those countries with democratically elected governments. They are nothing but corrupt lackeys of the multinational corporations. Do the people in those countries have more than us?” he bellows.

“No, they don’t,” he answers his own question. “Have they more freedom than our people? Do their citizens have more peace than we do? The answer to all those questions is always no. No. No. They do not have a better system than us.”

I glance at Dante who is staring at his uncle.

“Are you aware that your father is in the proces

s of signing us to treaties so that soulless international corporations can take our country to international tribunals for arbitration if they feel the decisions our government makes are not in their best interests or hurt their profits? Their rights will be above ours!”

Dante’s eyes narrow. “Father is signing Avanti up to T.T.I.P and T.T.P?”