Fathers and sons -- Fiction; People with disabilities -- Fiction; Princes -- Fiction; Refugees -- Fiction
He drew himself together, and lifted his eyes. For one full moment,
after he had so lifted them, he stood quite still and straight, looking
into the deep beauty of the royal face. Then he knelt and kissed the
hands held out to him--kissed them both with a passion of boy love and
worship.
The King had the eyes he had longed to see--the King's hands were those
he had longed to feel again upon his shoulder--the King was his father!
the "Stefan Loristan" who had been the last of those who had waited and
labored for Samavia through five hundred years, and who had lived and
died kings, though none of them till now had worn a crown!
His father was the King!
* * * * *
It was not that night, nor the next, nor for many nights that the
telling of the story was completed. The people knew that their King and
his son were rarely separated from each other; that the Prince's suite
of apartments were connected by a private passage with his father's. The
two were bound together by an affection of singular strength and
meaning, and their love for their people added to their feeling for each
other. In the history of what their past had been, there was a romance
which swelled the emotional Samavian heart near to bursting. By mountain
fires, in huts, under the stars, in fields and in forests, all that was
known of their story was told and retold a thousand times, with sobs of
joy and prayer breaking in upon the tale.
But none knew it as it was told in a certain quiet but stately room in
the palace, where the man once known only as "Stefan Loristan," but whom
history would call the first King Ivor of Samavia, told his share of it
to the boy whom Samavians had a strange and superstitious worship for,
because he seemed so surely their Lost Prince restored in body and
soul--almost the kingly lad in the ancient portrait--some of them half
believed when he stood in the sunshine, with the halo about his head.
It was a wonderful and intense story, that of the long wanderings and
the close hiding of the dangerous secret. Among all those who had known
that a man who was an impassioned patriot was laboring for Samavia, and
using all the power of a great mind and the delicate ingenuity of a
great genius to gain friends and favor for his unhappy country, there
had been but one who had known that Stefan Loristan had a claim to the
Samavian throne. He had made no claim, he had sought--not a crown--but
the final freedom of the nation for which his love had been a religion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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