learn what you need to know all the same.’
‘How? He knows so much, more than anyone I know.’ The prince looked sideways at me and smiled.
‘My own bapuji died suddenly when I was fifteen years old. I was shocked – we all were. He was so strong, so energetic. I thought he would live for ever but just like that he was gone. No goodbye. Nothing. I went from playing with my wooden soldiers to ruling a kingdom and being married all in the space of a week.’
It was my turn to look at him. ‘It was a confusing week then,’ I ventured. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Incredibly confusing! All I wanted to do was play with my wooden soldiers but instead there I was ruling a kingdom. I hated my bapuji.’
I looked at him in surprise. Hate?
‘I hated him for leaving me, for making me take on a responsibility I wasn’t ready for, and for not being there to teach me what I needed to know.’
I didn’t hate my bapuji. I couldn’t hate him, no matter what. But he was leaving me and I needed him more than ever and he wasn’t going to be there.
‘Do you still hate your bapuji?’ I asked.
‘No, and I realised that I’d never really hated him. I had learnt what I needed to because I had to and because I was his son.’ We stopped walking and he turned to face me. ‘You will too – because you have to and because you’re his son.’
I nodded my head and forced a weak smile. We continued walking until we were far from the market square and had found a shaded alcove in which to sit. The prince sent his manservant to fetch some cold drinks.
‘Your bapuji, he sounds like an extraordinary man and I’d like to meet him. Do you live nearby?’
My stomach lurched and I stood up far too quickly. All the blood rushed to my head, making me stagger. The prince set me down and waited for me to recover.
‘Bilal, what’s the matter? At the mention of your bapuji, you turned pale. What is it?’
I waited for the spots in front of my eyes to subside and blinked my eyes rapidly. The prince stood over me looking both concerned and confused.
The prince lives miles away. It doesn’t matter if he knows, does it?
In the next instant I’d told him everything. About the oath and the system of deterring people from visiting and how determined I was to make sure Bapuji never found out the truth. The prince paused momentarily and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. I gathered myself and looked him straight in the eye but whereas before there had been strength and resolve in the prince’s eyes, now there were tears. I looked away quickly in case I embarrassed him and inwardly cursed myself for being such a big-mouthed fool.
‘Bilal, no one should have to take on this burden. Will you not reconsider? The truth may give him peace.’
‘No,’ I said firmly and shook my head.
He looked at me again then nodded.
‘I wish I had your courage, Bilal. I’d still like to meet your bapuji. Don’t worry though. Your secret is safe with me.’
I nodded. The big man came back with the cold drinks and we set out. As we turned the corner, Manjeet, Chota and Saleem were already there, nervously loitering outside my front door. They’d obviously seen me from the rooftop, unable to guess what was going on, but they were still here standing with me, no matter what. My heart jumped knowing they were my friends. The prince smiled at them.
‘So these must be your eyes and ears, Bilal? A steely-eyed bunch, if ever I saw one.’ Turning to me, the prince said, ‘I’d like to talk to your bapuji alone. Please trust me.’
I looked at Saleem then Manjeet and Chota, then turning back to the prince, I nodded my head slowly. ‘I trust you, prince,’ I replied and opened the door.
When the prince re-emerged, we all stood up and I approached him nervously, my heart rattling like a drum.
‘He is very feverish and couldn’t talk for long but what a memory he has! Such knowledge and curiosity set any man apart – and any boy,’ he
‘How? He knows so much, more than anyone I know.’ The prince looked sideways at me and smiled.
‘My own bapuji died suddenly when I was fifteen years old. I was shocked – we all were. He was so strong, so energetic. I thought he would live for ever but just like that he was gone. No goodbye. Nothing. I went from playing with my wooden soldiers to ruling a kingdom and being married all in the space of a week.’
It was my turn to look at him. ‘It was a confusing week then,’ I ventured. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Incredibly confusing! All I wanted to do was play with my wooden soldiers but instead there I was ruling a kingdom. I hated my bapuji.’
I looked at him in surprise. Hate?
‘I hated him for leaving me, for making me take on a responsibility I wasn’t ready for, and for not being there to teach me what I needed to know.’
I didn’t hate my bapuji. I couldn’t hate him, no matter what. But he was leaving me and I needed him more than ever and he wasn’t going to be there.
‘Do you still hate your bapuji?’ I asked.
‘No, and I realised that I’d never really hated him. I had learnt what I needed to because I had to and because I was his son.’ We stopped walking and he turned to face me. ‘You will too – because you have to and because you’re his son.’
I nodded my head and forced a weak smile. We continued walking until we were far from the market square and had found a shaded alcove in which to sit. The prince sent his manservant to fetch some cold drinks.
‘Your bapuji, he sounds like an extraordinary man and I’d like to meet him. Do you live nearby?’
My stomach lurched and I stood up far too quickly. All the blood rushed to my head, making me stagger. The prince set me down and waited for me to recover.
‘Bilal, what’s the matter? At the mention of your bapuji, you turned pale. What is it?’
I waited for the spots in front of my eyes to subside and blinked my eyes rapidly. The prince stood over me looking both concerned and confused.
The prince lives miles away. It doesn’t matter if he knows, does it?
In the next instant I’d told him everything. About the oath and the system of deterring people from visiting and how determined I was to make sure Bapuji never found out the truth. The prince paused momentarily and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. I gathered myself and looked him straight in the eye but whereas before there had been strength and resolve in the prince’s eyes, now there were tears. I looked away quickly in case I embarrassed him and inwardly cursed myself for being such a big-mouthed fool.
‘Bilal, no one should have to take on this burden. Will you not reconsider? The truth may give him peace.’
‘No,’ I said firmly and shook my head.
He looked at me again then nodded.
‘I wish I had your courage, Bilal. I’d still like to meet your bapuji. Don’t worry though. Your secret is safe with me.’
I nodded. The big man came back with the cold drinks and we set out. As we turned the corner, Manjeet, Chota and Saleem were already there, nervously loitering outside my front door. They’d obviously seen me from the rooftop, unable to guess what was going on, but they were still here standing with me, no matter what. My heart jumped knowing they were my friends. The prince smiled at them.
‘So these must be your eyes and ears, Bilal? A steely-eyed bunch, if ever I saw one.’ Turning to me, the prince said, ‘I’d like to talk to your bapuji alone. Please trust me.’
I looked at Saleem then Manjeet and Chota, then turning back to the prince, I nodded my head slowly. ‘I trust you, prince,’ I replied and opened the door.
When the prince re-emerged, we all stood up and I approached him nervously, my heart rattling like a drum.
‘He is very feverish and couldn’t talk for long but what a memory he has! Such knowledge and curiosity set any man apart – and any boy,’ he
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