His Highness Prince Vincent

Story: His Highness Prince Vincent

Chapter 7 Christmas at the Palace

Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)

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Mature Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

David and Vincent go to the Denmark Christmas Party at the palace. They meet another member of the family.

Christmas at the Palace

Beverly and I did dance again. As I explained, Percival was a nice man, and he loved his wife. He just could not dance! I remembered being a lot smaller watching the adults dance at parties. Just because we lived in a part of the world that was somewhat remote, we weren't totally cut off. There were often parties. Those hired hands may had a difficult time reading, but they knew how to enjoy themselves. It was part of being human! We had music! A couple of hired hands that played guitar and banjo, another one had a harmonica and we had others to play everything from a jug someone blew into, to a washtub with a string attached to a tall stick they strummed, tightening or loosening the tension to change the sound. My father played spoons! He was good at doing more than eating with them. I have been to symphonies and knew some damned good musicians, but so were those hired hands! Now, one hired hand played a fiddle. Yes, technically it was a violin, but he played tunes on it you never heard at concerts in some cities. Dad would tie my legs to his legs and made me dance with my feet on his feet! His preference for lively jigs just spilled over on me. He loved dancing. He'd hold my hands up to keep me from falling over and he danced. He didn't even need a partner. It was fun and I would laugh when we danced. I remember him doing it all my life on the ranch. I was about seven when he said I was getting too heavy. I loved that he would be close with me. He was my Dad! He and I did it, but I was about ten when I took mercy on his poor feet and stopped. We still danced, but I knew the steps.

Having another person know the truth about my relationship with Vincent was liberating! She had pieced it together on her own. She was very smart.

We sat again as we caught our breaths...again.

"We should let the musicians go home," Vincent said behind me with an amused voice.

I turned and grinned, "Vinnie!! Hi!!"

Vincent held a finger up to Beverly, "Don't even think about using that name with me." He almost growled and folded his arms across his chest. "He just uses it to bother me."

Beverly laughed and unfolded her fan to use on herself. "I wouldn't dream of it." Then she began fanning me again.

Percival Haversham came over, "Don't be too hard on David, Your Royal Highness. He has made this a great Christmas!" He was a stiff British Aristocrat mostly. "He saved my wife bruised toes." He stood with his hands behind his back and his face had the same expression, but there was a slight sparkle in his eye. He almost smiled. Almost. He was a happy man! He was! The manners he used were taught to him and he used the successfully for half a century. They were a part of him.

Vincent smiled, "I understand." He looked at me. "Perhaps our friends are tired and would like to retire for the evening?"

I looked around the ballroom and it was beginning to thin out. There were only a few people left, and they were milling their way toward the exit. I removed Dad's watch and looked surprised at the time, "I had no idea it was so late." It was almost three in the morning. "Yes, we should let these people go home." I looked up at Lord Haversham. Time was being good to him as well. He kept the hairs in place with something. I know I say it often and you know what I'll say, but he was a good-looking man. Yes, I could easily see that! Thirty to thirty-five years ago you knew he was an active person! Athletics was the best treatment for the energy of young men, even in England! I'm not saying that to be mean, but when my father and I got to Wentworth, the men with their sons didn't look like they ever broke a sweat. Lord Percival Haversham still had a trim waist and a chest that spoke of a good musculature under his shirt. I knew my father could have licked him in a fight though. I smiled at Beverly. "There is that period between Christmas and New Year's. I know you will return to London after that, but I insist you both come to the house I'm using for dinner one evening. I'd love to meet Francesca and Mads." I grinned, "I'd love to meet the new grandchild." I knew that many mothers were reluctant to bring young babies into the cold and damp air. The mothers in Scandinavia were a little more aware of being in cold weather wasn't a bad thing. It simply was. I saw some bundles of thick fur being carried and wondered what animal it was. It was Human. You need to be careful with babies breathing in cold air, but there were ways to handle that. The Pohogwe mothers felt the feet or infants and if the feet were warm, the baby was warm. I won't even begin with the mothers in Russia that strip their newborns naked and dunk them in freezing river water during the winter. It was said to make the baby less susceptible to colds. What!? Even that caused me to wonder after reading it! I couldn't argue! There were a lot of healthy Russians as proof!

"I suppose we could one evening," Lord Percival almost grinned.

"Is there a rule for the House of Lords that prohibits expressing emotions?" I said smiling at him.

Beverly let out a huff, "No. Get them together as they discuss almost any topic, and it becomes a shouting match."

"We don't express emotions one on one," Lord Percival said. "Only when he discuss things for England." The ghost of a smile was on his face.

We said good-bye to them, then to King Fredrick and Queen Maregete. Annabelle had left two hours before.

On the walk back to Aunt Benedikte's home, we walked carefully. They salted things like the sidewalks and scattered sand or dirt to give traction under your feet. Even on a lighted street you couldn't always see ice. It was just as I stepped on some of that ice and my left foot slipped from under me. The only thing to keep me from landing on my ass was Vincent!

"Woop! Forsigtig!" Vincent warned with a chuckle as he grabbed me.

I steadied myself pulling myself to his strong grasp, "I was being careful!"

Vincent nodded grinning, "Okay, vær mere forsigtig!"

My eyebrows came together, "If I'm being careful, how can I be more careful? Isn't that like being pregnant opposed a little pregnant? I was careful!" I waved back at the palace we just left, "They couldn't find my boots for this ice!" I had worn boots that were made for ice. The thick rubber soles of the boots were covered with little metal spikes that helped get traction if there was none otherwise. The leather boots kept the salt from ruining your dress shoes.

Vincent was now laughing, "We're almost there. Hang on to me." We begun to walk again slowly. "You and Beverly danced a lot tonight. More than you did before."

I chuckled, "Is that a problem?"

"No," Vincent said. "In a previous discussion, you were concerned about what people would say."

"She knows," I said to Vincent. "She knows about you and me."

Vincent stopped and he looked at me. His comment or question wasn't voiced. Yet, I understood him just fine. A decade together? I could read his expressions without a problem.

"No!" I said firmly to him, "I would never just tell her! She told me!" I shook my head, "You know me better than that! I would never divulge a secret about us without including you to tell about it! She figured it out years ago."

Vincent's eyes were darting back and forth as he thought about what I said, "Okay..." he started and looked for words to ask.

I took his arm and pulled him on again, "I'm cold. We can talk more at home." I brightened when I said that! We were going home! It was Aunt Benedikte's palatial house, but it had become our home. "She's fine with it. Beverly is not an ignorant person." As we walked, the moonless and starless sky had white flakes coming down gently. The hushed music played again for me.

One thing I insisted on. I never went to bed dirty or sweaty. Beverly and I had danced very hard and sweat was just going to happen. Another thing. While most houses these days had a room to bathe in, few had bathrooms. Water closets were becoming more predominate. Indoor toileting was still new! No one wants to trudge through freezing weather to go to an outhouse. Even with chamber pots or those fancy chairs in palaces and homes you used when nature called were fine, but...showers! Those had only been around maybe a century. Warm water poured over your head has been around since ancient Egypt. I had a kind of shower at the ranch! The shower here was a miracle! Warm water, pounding on your head like a hot waterfall! And the water was always clean! A tank kept the water warm and ready to use...as long as the tank had power and natural gas. At that moment, I had power and the pilot light was on. The tank's water would have to be replaced and the new water added needed heating up for next time. With two good sized men using it, that water needed reheating often. We stretched the warm water supply by sharing the shower. Sensible, weren't we?

"Does, Lord Percival know?" Vincent asked as he washed his hair creating white suds. Steam rose around us as the warm water flowed.

I was using a great soap I'd gotten. It was plant based and not animal based, lye or harsher things. It even had a more manly smell! Some French soaps smelled very flowery and sweet. Mom may like it, but I didn't want to smell like a flower. I chose a soap and shampoo from America! It was called "Bee Rugged." Yes, I'll wait until you stop laughing. I'll wait. It was a play on words! It came from bees! Honey and pollen in the soap and it worked! It had a slight musk smell. That and "Dragon's Blood." No dragon was hurt to make the soap or shampoo. Goat's milk, amber, myrrh, sandalwood...you smelled manly. "Are you still bothered by that!?"

Vincent rinsed the shampoo from his hair, closing his eyes, "Not really bothered, but it is unnerving." He shrugged. "We've been so careful..."

"And?" I interrupted. "Beverly has been a friend for years! She pieced things together from knowing us so long. Whether or not Percy knows or not doesn't matter."

Vincent's eyes grew a little, "Percy? You call Lord Percival Haversham Percy?"

"Only out of love," I grinned and shrugged. "His knowing about us could also explain why he's not jealous when I dance with Beverly so often." I shrugged again. "We can't have too many allies. They make excellent allies."

This was an unusual Christmas. It happened once every seven years. Christmas day was on Monday. Naturally, Christmas Eve was on Sunday. The Royal Christmas Party was on Saturday night. Those people whose job was scheduling things thought it would be better not to have the Royal Christmas party on Sunday night. It was custom to have a midnight service at Frederik's Church as Christmas Eve became Christmas Day. Catholics, Church of England, Orthodox or reformed all celebrated December 25th. Orthodox began their twelve days of Christmas or Old Christmas. The church here was Lutheran. Yep, I threw my hands and gave up and just went with whatever. Again, I was not a heathen. I knew someone or something was in charge, but I knew men, even men who knew they were right, didn't know everything. The Pohogwe admitted that right off! How can anybody claim to know answers when we weren't even sure about the questions? Anyone claiming they knew the answer told me they didn't have a clue.

Vincent and I did go back to Amalienborg Palace and once again the Changing of the Guard was happening. It didn't matter if it was good weather or bad. Snow nor rain didn't stop some things. The Royal Guard demonstrated they were always ready. I felt sorry for them sometimes. Not just the guards, but everyone that worked at the palace. This was Christmas Eve! However, there was Boxing Day. I had to scratch my head about that too when I first got to London. It was only fair!! After Christmas Day, on the 26th or another day after was set ahead of time was when you thanked those that were servants! Yes! Thanking them for their loyal service and hard work during the year where gifts were given from the people that employed them. It was really big in England. Seeing how almost everyone was related...it spread all over Great Britain and Europe. The servants would get Christmas Boxes containing food, money and even gifts! It started in the 17th Century. The thing was, I had people that worked for me? Yes, they were citizens of Denmark. They had been in the service of King Fredrik and Queen Maregete. They worked for Denmark. The king wasn't letting Aunt Benedikte's home deteriorate, so he had a few servants keep it up even if it was empty. Now it wasn't empty. They were good employees! Remember? I said they were better than any out there. To work for the Royal Family, they had to be. They were paid more because of that. My allowance from Wyoming wasn't used much while I lived in London or Copenhagen. Not fair! I know, but Queen Victoria housed her cousin and I stayed with him. I stayed with Vincent in Copenhagen. The United States of America would be putting my wages in the account. There would also be a Household Account and I would be paying those employees in Denmark from United States dollars to Danish kroner. A krone was a crown.

How did I get here? Oh, yeah. The Changing of the Guard. Coming into the palace, we didn't see anyone. No, that wasn't true. Bad, Mr. Ambassador. Very bad. I never wanted to get to the point I didn't see people. There were guards on the first floor standing at attention. If they were walking around, I would ask them where the family had gone. I couldn't just shout "Where is everyone?" I could, but I knew better. I could show my Ring of Trust and ask one of them, but they were working, and I had legs and could simply look. The palace guards at Buckingham Palace wouldn't budge or even blink!

I felt Vincent take my arm by the elbow and led me in a direction. We entered the library and found Annabelle with her attention engrossed over what she was reading. What was obvious was she picked up something to read and pored over it to the point she forgot what she was doing. It seemed she was going to sit down and...whatever that caught her attention made her forget and she was just standing. Reading. Her back was to us and she concentrated so much so, she didn't hear either of us. I was always teasing Vincent about the horns on Vikings, but I can say this Viking didn't even need a helmet! I can not confirm or deny there is a devil, so I didn't know if the devil had horns or not. Right then, Vincent did! I practically saw them grow out of the top of his head!! He grinned at me and held his fingers to his lips instructing me to be quiet. It was in his eyes! I knew what he was going to do! He grabbed her shoulders and shouted, "Boo!!"

Annabelle let out a scream and turned quickly, "Lort!!" (Shit) She shouted and hauled off and hit Vincent as hard as she could in his left shoulder! "Forpulede rovhul!" (Fucking asshole) Vincent was laughing too hard, and I was laughing, too. She literally covered her chest over her heart as she panted to catch her breath and slow a heart that pounded. "For helvede!!" (God damn it)

I chuckled, "Thank you, Princess. I haven't gone over my swear words in Danish recently."

"Stick around," Annabelle muttered. "I'm sure you'll hear others." She smacked Vincent on the arm, "You scared me!!"

Vincent nursed his wounded shoulder, but chuckled, "I know! I wanted to!" He pointed at what Annabelle had in her hands. "What is that?"

She had something in a kind of leather-bound notebook. "I don't know really." Her breathing was becoming regular again. "It was on Daddy's desk."

"On Dad's desk?" Vincent asked cautiously.

"Yes," Annabelle said a little snide. "Not locked away like all those secret letters and things are kept, but on his desk." She held it out. "It's in English." She handed it to Vincent. "It's...like a collection of letters, newspaper articles, diary entries, telegrams and ship logs." She smiled and pointed to the notebook, "Then I realized it was for a book. There's this Count in the Carpathian Mountains. Transylvania." She shrugged, "I knew it was fiction when Mr. Stoker, the author scratched out the name Count Wampyr to Count Dracula."

"I believe that is supposed to be pronounced Vam pyr," I smiled.

"Yes, yes," Annabelle waved that off. "Mister Languages here is no doubt right, but this Dracula is a vampire!!" She said with excitement in her voice. "It's good!!"

"That's right," King Fredrik said coming in smiling at us. "A ruler of Wallachia in the 15th century who thinks the incarnation of his lost love is alive in England. Mina Seward. He even buys a house in Whitby to be near her."

"Wait!" I held up my hand, "You mean Vlad Tepes? The Impaler?"

King Fredrik smiled and waved at the notebook, "Bram Stoker never says that."

I narrowed an eye and looked at him, "Oh, come on, Uncle Fred! Vlad Dracul the Second was in that chivalrous Order of the Dragon. This Count Dracula? The Dragon? Who else could it be?"

King Fredrik shrugged and looked innocent, but he smiled. He knew. "I know the author devoted a lot of time researching for this book."

Annabelle grinned, "I know you'll love it!" She said to me.

Vincent smirked, "And just how do you know he'll love it? I might like it, too."

Annabelle walked over to him and pulled the notebook from Vincent's hand. She nodded, "You might, but he will." She said firmly. "He loves Wagner," She said Vagner, "that's dark stuff." She shook the notebook. "This is very dark."

King Fredrik smiled at his daughter, "You weren't frightened reading it?" He asked concerned.

"Sure, I was!" Annabelle smiled, "He wrote it for that purpose!" She looked at Vincent. "It's a creeping, slow building kind of scary. I like that. Not the jump out and shout boo kind." She hit him again.

Vincent grinned, "I can't say I'm sorry, because I'm not."

"You were given this to read?" I asked.

"No," King Fredrik shook his head and smiled weakly, "Christian was. He and I met Nick and Scott in...Paris." He admitted embarrassed.

"Paris?" Vincent asked and pointed straight down for the Paris underground.

"Yes," King Fredrik nodded and also pointed down. "Nick knew Bram and is looking to publish it."

"Is there another language I need to learn?" Annabelle asked testily, "Is," she pointed down like they had, "this code for something?"

Vincent nodded, "Yes." He said simply and left her at that.

Annabelle let out a frustrated, "Uuhh!"

"They are still planning to in a year or so." King Fredrik was smiling at his daughter's dramatics. "Nick sent the manuscript and notes so Christian could read it. Christian thought I should." He shrugged. "Nick will love opinions from you." He looked at Annabelle, "And you."

Vincent nodded, "Sure."

"It's very creepy and scary," Annabelle said. "It's also very romantic!"

King Fredrik waved at her, "Well, write that down!" He looked at Vincent and me, "Will you do that?"

"Of course!" I nodded.

Queen Maregete joined us, and we ate a quiet meal together. It is official. I loved this family! I felt a part of it. The king and queen got along fine! As friends, because they were friends. Vincent and Annabelle were two typical siblings. They loved and even liked each other! Vincent teased his kid sister and she let him know he'd be sorry about that. I also knew any threat to her; he would kill them. No one would hurt her. I no longer concerned myself about her safety, she struck back just fine. That I was allowed to be there and even contributed to the teasing was priceless!

"So," Annabelle smiled. Those horns on Vincent were on her now, "you sure danced a lot with Lady Beverly Haversham."

That was her way of asking for details. It wasn't being mean; she was just curious. I saw Queen Maregete look a little cross at her daughter. I held up my hand to Queen Maregete, "No, Aunt Maregete. In the spirit of the new honesty policy, I'll answer." I smiled at Annabelle, "I met her a while back at a party like the one last night. That party was at Buckingham Palace. Beverly loves to dance! Lord Percival is a wonderful man. I like him very much, but I doubt he can tap his foot in rhythm. I sort of became his stand-in when it comes to dancing." I smiled thinking about them. "She was the first friend I made that wasn't attached to anything royal or even the school. She's very intelligent and she helped when my mother came to England." I chuckled and looked at Vincent. "In many ways, she was a kind of mother to me. A female mentor." I smiled, "I love her very much and Percy." I grinned. Annabelle began laughing.

Vincent laughed, "Wait until they come for dinner this week! I'm telling him about your name for him."

"I'll tell him!" I held my right hand out to Vincent, "Do you want to try to take this off me again, Vinnie?" Now King Fredrik and Queen Maregete were laughing.

He looked at his mother and father, "He had it glued on!" He shook his head, "He reminded me I'd have to kill him first, because I had him promise never to take it off until he died." He shrugged.

"Beverly is special, and I would never cheapen our friendship by trying anything else with her," I grinned at Annabelle. "What about your dancing? That one looked like he nicked himself shaving before the party. How old was he?" I saw her squirm a little.

"Thirteen," Vincent answered for his sister. "Rikki Poulsen, wasn't it?"

"Rikki is fourteen now," Annabelle corrected. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have been here last night."

My eyebrows rose, "There is an age limit? Why? Because of the alcohol?"

"Ha!" Annabelle said short and fast. "His mother wouldn't let him touch any!"

"Really?" King Fredrik asked. "Most parents introduce wines and things like that when they are young." He looked at Vincent. "You were four when we gave you wine for the first time." He chuckled, "Your first wine critique was...it was yucky."

The mental image I had of a four-year-old Vincent turning his nose up at the first wine was hilarious. "You didn't water it down for him?"

"No," Queen Maregete shook her head. "He wanted what we were having. So, we gave it to him."

"It was three years later before he asked again," King Fredrik chuckled.

At eleven thirty, we took a sleigh to the Frederick's church. We didn't want the Queen or Princess Annabelle to ruin their shoes. Oh! And they found my boots from the night before.

Christmas Day came, and we were at the church when the day came. It was interesting how this day evolved. This was a Christian country, yet it was interesting how many pagan traditions had mingled with a religious day. Really, many of the customs and traditions came from all over the area. In Denmark, Jul or Yule had been celebrated a while. The Christmas Tree! That came from Germany...so I was told. It was a tradition to dance around the Juletræet, the Christmas Tree. There was also Julemanden, the Yule Man that came in a sleigh pulled by reindeer and assisted by Julenisser (elves). Sound familiar? Santa Claus was now told to many children in the United States of America and other countries. We tell children in the United States that Santa has been around for hundreds of years...and he has! Over here in the older European countries, not in the United States. It was even outlawed in many parts of the United States. Christmas was against the law!? Yes! There was a great concern about those pagan rituals, so Christmas was illegal. Rotten Puritans.

Anyway, yes, there were pagan rituals here with Christmas! The solstice, kissing under mistletoe...there were so many traditions all crammed together...it was very nice! Yes, again, I was not raised in a typical Christian home. What is a typical Christian home? Am I a Christian? You are what you do. I knew what was said in the Bible and I accepted much of what it says. Was Jesus Christ the son of God? Witnesses that were there tell they thought He was. They claimed they saw miraculous things done by Him. They were there, not one of those priests, rabbis or even a Pope was there. Witnesses' observations and history make statements and is accepted. Okay. I accept that, too. I, however, have deep respect and reverence for what the Creator gave us. Life! I see the world and was taught to appreciate nature by my mother's family and my father. Dad greeted each day with his smile and deep inhalation of air and gave a big sigh of satisfaction. It could be the middle of blizzard, but he had prepared! He woke up warm and had rested well, so he knew to say thank you. The Creator also gave me the capacity to see where I fit in the world. All the rules about how we were show appreciate, worship, what we eat and even who we love are made by Men, not the Creator. To be honest, I don't really want that title. All the atrocities committed by men who claim they were Christians telling everybody they do what they do because God directed them to? I won't deny who Jesus was even once. The apostle Peter denied even denied knowing who Jesus was three times! Never saying anything about believing in Jesus. And it wasn't just the Catholic Church, though the horrors they did with the Inquisition was horrific! The Pilgrims, Puritans and many other groups claim you showed God how great a Christian you are by following these rules they said to follow! I am reluctant to call myself anything. I'm grateful for a great life and great parents. Actions speaks louder than any title or words. What title goes best then?

Okay, I'll get down from the pulpit now.

The sleigh dropped Vincent and me off at Aunt Benedikte's House...I need to stop thinking like that. I was allowed to live here, and I shared it with Vincent. It was now home. Vincent and I were having Christmas Lunch again the next day...no, according to Dad's watch and the calendar; we were having Christmas Lunch later that day. We would see them later.

When Vincent and I went back to the Palace. Some people hear Christmas Lunch and will ask, "So?" No, this was Julefrokost! It was not a meal you ate often. You would get fat! Quickly, there was herring (typically Scandinavian), shrimp, smoked salmon, fried plaice with remoulade, sylte (veal, pork and spices), Julefrokost wasn't soup and sandwiches lunch. Being invited to party on Lillejuleatfent (Little Christmas Eve) on the 23rd, that told you something about how Denmark felt about you. Denmark saw you as important, but if you came for Julefrokost, that said how the Monarchy felt about you! This time, there were a few dozen.

"These are family and the closest friends of Mom and Dad," Vincent explained quietly to me.

"Cousin!" A female voice greeted from the side.

Vincent turned and...well, he smiled, sort of, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Cousin."

She was in her twenties. Her light brown hair was done up on her head. I didn't really know a lot about women's fashion, but what she had on wasn't cheap. The dress was white, underneath. There was a sheer material over the dress that had a Christmas red that went around the bottom of her dress in drape-arches. The design of the red was in shapes of stars, and they rose from the middle of those drapes up to her waist but thinned out the closer the got to her waist. She had a belt of Christmas red and around her shoulders, revealing a good portion of her skin at her cleavage was a lacy, frilly "bodice" that circled her neck. You also couldn't miss the small tiara in her hair, of the red jewels around her neck and hanging on her earlobes. Were they real rubies? She had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss Vincent's cheek. Her lips never touched him. "Es ist schön dich zu sehen." She looked at me and laughed. "My apologies, that was rude. I just said it was nice to see him."

"Das ist vollkommen in Ordnung. Ich spreche Deutsch." I said and smiled telling her I spoke German.

"Good," she said as her face fell a little.

Vincent smiled at bit meanly, but waved at her, "This is my cousin Baroness Matilda Hofer von Lobenstein." He smiled at her. "Tilda, this is David Richards, my school mate David Richards. The Ambassador from the United States to Denmark and Norway." He shrugged, "Soon, all of Scandinavia." He said proudly and looked at me. "How many languages do you speak now?"

I was embarrassed, but I knew what he was doing. "Several, not including English, Danish and German."

"The American Cowboy Ambassador," She nodded.

"This is Aunt Benedikte's great granddaughter," Vincent said pointedly.

"Oh," I nodded. "I see." And I did. It explained why she dressed like this. She was entitled! She now had a title, but she wanted to remind everyone by dressing to remind people. "Your grandmother had some...very good taste." I said. "The house I'm living in is quite beautiful."

Vincent's cousin was shallow and knew she was born in a noble family. She was entitled by birth.

She smiled at bit looking at someone. "Ich sehe, dass der Apfel nicht zu weit vom Baum fällt."

"The apple doesn't fall far..." Vincent asked no one really as he didn't understand. "What?"

I looked in the direction she was looking and frowned. King Fredrik was speaking with another man who stood pretty close to him. I had never met King Fredrik's...lover Christian. To call him a boyfriend was so juvenile. Consort? What was I? I understood what Matilda said and didn't like what it. I didn't like Matilda. She was vain, petty and too sure of herself because of who she was. Her great, great-grandfather was king of Denmark. Her great grandmother was a princess and married a very wealthy man.

Vincent looked, too. I saw he got it when his face changed and I saw anger which he quickly stopped having been schooled to control emotions as king, or in Vincent's case a future king. He turned to his cousin and the smile was cold. It was artificial. "Yes, I suppose you're right. My father is a very good king for Denmark He needs good counsel from someone he trusts. Christian Hansen has been my father's most trusted advisor for almost three decades. I hope I will be as good as my father when I'm given the reigns of Denmark. When I do, I pray David will be that counsel for me." He threw is arms out slightly, "Hell, he is already! I made friends with him in school. He's a graduate from Cambridge University for God's sake. He is an American, but he is more Danish than many who were born here! King Fredrik and Queen Maregete has made him a part of our family. He's honest, very smart and I would be a fool not to listen to him. He works hard and has made friends with three monarchs and will no doubt make more. Where do you have you're degree? What function do you do?" He crossed his arms over his chest and...well, he didn't glare exactly. A king wouldn't do that, but his eyes were fixed on her.

Baroness Matilda did something she should never do. She turned her back and walked away without a word.

"Aunt Benedikte was jealous of her brother?" I asked Vincent.

He gave a shrugging nod, "I wouldn't say jealous, but she was the eldest and first born of King Frederick VII. When her brother Frederick was born, she would never rule."

I told you. They loved the name Fred.

"So," I began, looking at his father, "Your father is what, he is the ninth?"

Vincent hurriedly shushed me and covered my mouth with his hands, "Don't say that so anyone can hear!" Vincent said in loud whisper. "Especially my father! He hates that name! Granddad and Great Granddad mixed as well as oil and water. Great Granddad in the face when he refused to name Dad Fredrik officially."

I frowned, "So, he isn't the nineth."

"No," Vincent answered.

"The line was broken," I shrugged. "At least he was named Fred."

"Yes," Vincent nodded. "Mom and Dad didn't put it in my four names."

Four names was not uncommon with royalty...and in some cultures. I knew them Vincent Albert Gyrth Harrison Henrick. I would hate for his mother calling him out for doing something he shouldn't when he was younger. They used full names before scolding you. That was always a sign you were in BIG trouble. Everyone knows that. I think it's in those genes they found in us. "I know it's usually your grandfathers' names, but Albert? Is that Cousin Vickie's husband's name?"

Vincent smiled, but it was too innocent, so I knew it wasn't, "Is it?" He pointed at his father. "They refuse to answer the question and just said; that's his name,"

I nodded like it was now a sudden discovery, "That explains why she's so nice to you."

Vincent smirked and sarcastically said, "Oh, ha, ha. You are so funny." He threw an arm over my shoulder like we were the old pals we were. Chums. He stopped a moment, "Oh, I was expected to laugh." He laughed. It wasn't his natural laugh, but...he looked at me, "How was that?"

"Vinnie," I grinned. "You can be such a pain in the ass, but I love you." I love our antics. I jutted my head in the direction of Baroness Matilda. "Can I know her story? She's a Baroness? How old is she?"

"Twenty-two," Vincent answered. "She married Baron Karl Hofer von Lobenstein at seventeen." Vincent shook his head, "He died two years later."

I felt a pain of sorrow hearing that, "Oh, poor girl."

"Yes," Vincent nodded, "He was forty-six. He never married before. No heirs legitimately or illegitimately and drank...a lot."

"She was his trophy wife?" I asked. "You know, to show others?"

Vincent shrugged, "I don't know." He looked at me and held up the finger to make me wait for his point, "I do know she was smart enough to have him sign a contract the day before the wedding. She used her own lawyers and had her own witnesses."

"A contract!?"

Vincent nodded, "She was to get full Baronial title, which she got, and she was to retain that after his death. There was nearly four decades difference in their ages. It made sense."

"How did he die?" I asked.

"He came home most nights very drunk and fell down a flight of stairs in the house and broke his neck," Vincent shrugged.

My eyebrows came together, "He managed to get home drunk and falls down a familiar staircase he took every day?" I asked as my left eye narrowed in suspicion. "And where was she?"

Vincent laughed, "At an Opera and then an Opera party. There were a lot of witnesses that said she was there. The Baron was found by a servant."

"She could have hired someone to do it!"

He shrugged again, "Maybe, but the investigation didn't find anything to confirm that, so..."

"The contract!" I objected.

Vincent gave another shrugging nod, "It made sense. He wasn't in the best health and considerably older..."

"Fine, so what is with the attitude?" I asked.

"That is something she always had," Vincent said. "She was jealous and picked on Annabelle, until Annabelle punched Tilda in the nose when Annabelle was eleven."

"That made Tilda sixteen," I said smiling at the image of Annabelle punching a bigger sixteen-year-old teenage girl in the nose. I could see her do it in my head. "Good for Annabelle!"

Vincent looked up and smiled as his father was waving us over, "I think Dad wants to introduce you to Christian."

"I'd love to meet him," I said,

As we were walking over I noticed a tall cage of gold about five feet tall and wide. A bird sat on a tree branch of a small tree. I was a little startled. It was a pretty bird. Its feathers were a lovely brown below his neck, He had a white band that went around his neck like a collar, above the collar was a shiny blue to black, but his eyes had a red patch around each, and white feathers went back from above his beak and went down the back of his head as a person might comb his hair back. The red on the eyes were very red. He didn't seem bothered by all these people as he sat...I thought no! It was a pear tree! A partridge in a pear tree? When we got to King Fredrik, I touched him gently and pointed, "Forgive me, Your Majesty and you sir, but that's a Partridge in a Pear Tree, isn't it?"

The king chuckled and nodded, "Yes, it is."

The man with King Fredrik was handsome, about half a foot shorter than King Fredrik and his dark hair was graying in the temples as men do when they age. At least he had hair. I did notice a bald spot growing at the back of his head when he looked at the cage. I looked at him, "I really want to meet you, but..." I pointed at the cage, "I had to know!" The man just laughed. "I mean those other days; two Turtle Doves, three French Hens and four Calling Birds, you will need a bigger cage!"

The king was about to say something, but Vincent interrupted.

"Where's Mom?" Vincent asked and then went on before King Fredrik could answer. "She always has those long pins and I want to be the one to pop this American bubble myself." He grinned at me. "This goes with the horns on Vikings helmets. It's not calling birds, it's colly birds. C, o, l, l, y. O not an A."

"What the Hell is a colly bird!?" I asked indignantly.

"It's a black bird as black as coal," King Fredrik said smiling.

"Okay," I said. "I assume this can be proven, but what's better about a colly bird opposed to a calling bird? Why?" I looked from Vincent to the king and then to Christian Hansen. They were looking at each other and smiling, but no one gave an answer. I nodded, "You gentlemen know what species it is, but not why they are included in the song." I kept nodding, "I'll stick with calling birds, thank you, until I find out what makes them so special. You'll have a dozen birds! You need an aviary! And at least I'll know my calling birds can sing!" I turned to Vincent, "And as far as the horns and Vikings are concerned, those raiding parties before Vikings were Pre-Vikings. They were Vikings!"

Vincent looked away a second, "I told you..."

Both the king and Christian were laughing. King Fredrik said, "Spare me just a moment and you can go back to this interesting discussion."

"No, Uncle Fred!" I said happily to him. "Take as many moments you want to." I held my hand out to Christian. "I want to know him." I looked at Vincent, "We'll continue this later."

The man had eyes I couldn't determine if they were blue or green. "Christian Hansen," He said pleasantly. "I have wanted to meet you! Fredrik told me you are a Cowboy and an American Indian."

I nodded, "I will confirm both statements. I am both. When my mother comes this summer, you'll understand why."

"He's a genius," King Fredrik boasted. "How many languages do you speak now?"

"I lost count," I was embarrassed, "I learn more every day! Like German, I speak German. Standard German. I learned there are three dialects of high, middle and low German." I shrugged, "I thought surely they don't think one is for the high class verses the lower class. No, the low dialect is Niederdeutsch because they live in the lower part of Germany near the North Sea and that part between us and them to the Baltic Sea. They have the Alps on the southern part and high German there. They even have this band in the middle for middle German."

King Fredrik nodded, "We have that here, too. Ours is very bad. A man from west coast of Sweden speak Swedish," He waved his hand at that, "We'll lose them, I guarantee that. I won't fight them about that. They're Swedish. For Denmark, there are five dialects and a person from this island can't go to...above Alborg and buy something without confusion...and they're both speaking Danish!" He looked at Christian and smiled. "Sorry. I got caught up in the topic."

"You always do," Christian smiled at King Fredrik. `You always come back, too." He looked at me. "More than half of Denmark speak English. Many of the schools teach English at an early age to students. Some children learn from their parents at home. It's our second language."

"Are you sure it's more like seventy-five percent?" King Fredrik asked. He shook his head, "Anyway, this is my...special friend since we were teenagers. He's never left my side and I will never leave his." He lifted Christian's right hand and pointed to a ring on Christian's right ring finger. There is the Ring of Trust. Just like mine. I held mine up besides his.

"Mine won't fit on my ring finger," I admitted. "I don't want to lose it."

Christian nodded, "Oh, there's Jeweler just a few blocks from here. He can do it while you watch." He leaned into me and stage whispered. "I wasn't letting this out of my sight!" He looked up at King Fredrik, "While I was there, I got him a ring to claim him."

King Fredrik grinned and raised his left hand and I saw the wedding ring on his left ring finger, but on his left index finger was gold ring with a large dark stone. Black onyx I think, and it was sort of square, but tiny diamonds ran around the edge of the onyx. It was nice ring!

I frowned, "You're married." I saw King Fredrik's startled expression

"No," Christian said quickly, "We never..."

I held up a hand, "I don't mean you've done the whole church and marriage license thing. I mean, you've done the whole commitment thing in your hearts. You both have rings to say you belong to each other and how you feel. You are married." I looked at Vincent. "Are we married?"

Vincent smiled and nodded, "Yes, we are."

"This is the Pohogwe saying this," I began and reached out to touch Christian, "That's my Tribe as a Shoshone Indian, I am Shoshone. If you are born of a woman who is Shoshone, you are Shoshone. My Tribe is called the Pohogwe, my mother was Pohogwe, her mother was Pohogwe and the Chief Onacona, The White Owl, was her father and born of Kima, The Butterfly, gave birth to my Grandmother Chimalus, Bluebird, is Pohogwe. The Pohogwe celebrate marriages like ours and never consider it wrong or a sin. My Grandmother knew I was two spirited," I looked at Christian, "You understand two spirited? I'm like you." And Christian nodded, so I went on, "We hide our affection and like rats, scatter when light comes in, hiding in the dark so we aren't killed like vermin."

"The world is getting better," King Fredrik said. "It meant a death sentence if you were caught in most of the countries including Denmark. The more progressive countries are working to decriminalize homosexual men and women, but men are usually the one considered a criminal. England has taken the automatic death sentence away, but still they face charges now."

Christian smiled and nodded, "I would love to tell the whole world Fred and I are married or simply committed by love." He shook his head, "But he is a king! I won't be the reason he is taken from the throne. He's a good king."

I smiled a sad smile of resolution, "Yes, I know Vincent will be too," I looked up quickly at Uncle Fred, "I'm not rushing you! I swear!" I said. "I want you be around for a long time! Do you understand that?" I watched as King Fredrik laughed and nodded. He knew I did not want him harmed in any way, "Queen Victoria has been Queen of England for what...a bunch of decades? You can't have your cousin show you up." I found out, some of the things I said to King Fredrik and Queen Maregete would get a person thrown out of the palace by guards or even thrown in jail. I didn't always see them as king and queen, they were just people. When they were alone with just family, they acted like a family. Annabelle would kid her brother and Vincent tormented Annabelle. They both sounded annoyed by their father and mother, but it was all done in love. Humor as a family strengthened their connection. My comments were to Uncle Fred now and he liked me to treat him as a person. "I just met Vincent's cousin and your niece, Baroness Matilda. Maybe Annabelle can punch her in the nose again."

King Fredrik didn't look surprised, Christian nodded knowingly.

"She said something to you about your relationship with Vincent?" Christian asked, frowning.

"Not directly," I waggled my hand, "It was more of a veiled innuendo."

Christian nodded understanding, "She did the same thing with me when she discovered my relationship with Fredrik."

"What did she do?" I asked very concerned. "Why?"

"Just like with you," Christian explained, "She never accused me of anything, but used innuendos and what ifs, but it was clear she was fishing for a confession."

"To have something to have some control over a king," King Fredrik said sadly.

"But she isn't a Dane!" I gaped, "Her grandmother or whomever was, but she's not even a citizen of Denmark. Why? For power? She is a relative, but that's it."

Christian shrugged, "She's a manipulator."

"Inviting her here is the best way to keep an eye on her," King Fredrik said and looked at Vincent, "She'll do it with you, but never threaten you," he looked at me, "But you will be."

"She has money!" Vincent said in disbelief. "It's not a blackmail for money."

"What is she? Baron Hofer von Lobenstein was Prussian," I said. "What country is her citizenship now?"

"Germany," King Fredrik said. "She has a vast estate just outside of Berlin. She wants influence on my ruling when there is a conflict."

Queen Victoria's grandchildren did not get along. Everyone on this side of the Atlantic knew that. Russia's and Germany's alliance was over, Prussia was dissolved, Germany and Austria were more powerful because of that. There would be a war. It was inevitable. Imagine two boys who squabbled about everything, pushing each other and you knew someone was going to punch someone sometime soon.

"Germany is backing her?" Vincent asked surprised.

King Fredrik shrugged, "Who knows? Using the familiar connection, she has as family. She can get to the Government of Denmark. Me. They will not force me to ally with anyone when they are wrong. They usually are wrong."

"What can I do?" I asked them both.

"Your situation is different," King Fredrik smiled.

Christian chuckled, "I told her to show her cards. Take me to court and prove guilt. She saw me go into Fred's room and stay all night. That can be explained easily. I am his trusted advisor. We could have had an all-night discussion about political matters. Or any topic. It's no one's business." He held up his Ring of Trust. "This means I have access to the king any time. I also have the king's trust." He smiled at me. "You are here as an Ambassador for America by the President of the United States. You have backing from the king of Denmark, the king of Norway and the Queen of England!" He shook a finger at me and grinned, "I don't know of anyone that has that. Do not answer yes or no to her questions or innuendos. Just tell her to prove it."

I nodded, "Put up or shut up." I smiled.

"You got it," King Fredrik nodded.

Queen Maregete came over putting a hand on both King Fredrik's back and Christian Hansen. She smiled pleasantly to both. She knew who Christian was. Annabelle said it to everyone how she knew about her Dad and Mr. Christian when she was ten. "Gentlemen," the queen smiled. "They are serving the meal in a few minutes. I don't want interrupt anything, but if you can conclude it now or promise to go to it again later; that would be best." She looked at Vincent and me and smiled bigger, "Merry Christmas!" She hugged Vincent, then turned to me, "Merry Christmas!" She hugged me. I was fine with her hugging Vincent first. He was her child and she was supposed to like him best. I was happy she liked me at all. So, I was good!