Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 47. Chapter 47

Corfu

It was so peaceful by that tiny island. No traffic by Humans talking or driving cars. There was no chaos here. It was silent. We weren't that far from Corfu and getting there would only take a couple of hours. We even left the windows open to get the fragrant breeze. The yacht was big, so there was only the slightest of rocks. It was as if we were gently rocked to sleep. The silence was almost too loud, if you can understand that. My ears were straining to hear something. Anything. I did hear something surface in the water gently near us and went away. It sounded pretty large, too It was probably a dolphin. It was a slow and gentle sound. It could be a whale. Then another and several at once. A whole Pod of a whole family of dolphins or whale dropped by. I finally surrendered and went to sleep.

The morning came again. Peter and I had gotten lazy. All our needs and wants were met. Of course, we got lazy. I didn't even realized we moved, but it sounded different. We are so used to hearing the world around us that we miss it when it's not there. Now we heard the sounds of other ships or boats around us. The hum or drone of life had returned. It wasn't loud. And why is it there is always that bell ringing slowly in the distance when there are other boats? It happened in Charleston, too. Even if there was no one on board that lazy, occasional clang was here. They didn't need the time of day or night. No one was on watch. It could be soothing at times, but it woke me up. It rang.

I stretched and felt the arm around me tighten and myself being pulled back.

“Good morning, husband.” Peter's voice came softly in my ear.

The morning stretch I did was doing it's job. My grin was just natural as Peter pulled me closer to him. I rolled to face him. “Good morning.” I held my left hand up and looked at my wedding band. “I was never a person that wore jewelry. I wore my watch and that was it. Now, I wear two rings.” I wiggled my wedding ring. “This one I am the most proud of. I'll never take it off.” I smiled showing my right hand. “I never take this one off either.”

Peter smiled. “It's your miniature crown. Only an Ivanov can wear it.”

“You gave that one to me last year.” I stated. “I wasn't an Ivanov then.”

Peter chuckled. “Yes, you were.” He kissed me. “Even if you didn't change you name...if you were Prince Eric Richards, you were an Ivanov.” He kissed me again. “You were back in November before that.”

“Yeah,” I put my arms around him. “I love you.”

“I know.” Peter smiled. “That's what makes it special. We know we love each other.”

Corfu, which Greeks here called Kerkyra. I should qualify that. We were berthed near a part of town called Mantouki. Yeah, I thought it sounded a bit like some Native American name or even Hawaiian to me, too. Here many boats were around us in this harbor. This was not a commercial harbor with ships that hauled imports or exported freight. There were many large pleasure craft sharing this area of harbor. I know, size wasn't important, but part of me was pleased that the Duchess could give all of them a challenge on size and beauty. Those who say size doesn't matter are usually those who know they couldn't compare and win. The Duchess could.

“We've got to send the Countess von Bar a special handwritten thank you.” I said quietly.

Peter didn't say no, but asked. “Okay. Why handwritten?”

“Because it's more personal.” I said. “We can't just send a thank you note. I don't know of any store that sells birthday, get well and holiday cards that would have one for our, hopefully will be, my stepfather-in-law's sister and her husband. Do you?”

Peter chuckled. “No.”

“She would become family.” I said and thought. “Would she be a step-aunt-in-law?”

There were places to visit. There were beaches, but Peter had some sun and needed what he got to sink in. There were museums and galleries here and an outdoor market. I will say again, the buildings here were more modern. The houses and village was like many that were close together. One of the oldest buildings here was a Roman Bath, Corfu Parliament and Gardiki, a Byzantine castle, that was very old. Most of the buildings were old, but recent as in the 16^th, 17^th, and 18^th centuries. You know I was wanting older, more ancient structures. Besides, a lot of the structures reflected European Countries in style. I wanted Greek. Columns and things like that. There a lot of churches and monasteries that were pretty old. I wanted temples to Zeus, Aphrodite and other of the gods. We would, I promised myself. There weren't many places where the year had a BC attached to when it was built, but I knew there were some.

The other thing to worry about was this was a major attraction and tourists came. There were a lot of people there at the end of Spring and the beginning of Summer.

At breakfast, Henri placed a couple of plates in front of us that looked like a couple of waffles. The square shaped pattern told me that. A little smaller than I was used to.

“These are Liege Waffles,” Henri had fruits and syrup for the waffles. “Have either you had them?” Peter and I shook our heads. “These are not like the others. They're more dense and chewier. They are from Belgium, but not Belgium Waffles. They're sweeter even without syrup. You may not even want syrup. The people of Brussels often eat them by hand on the way to work.”

He hadn't led us wrong yet. I cut a piece off eating it slowly to get the flavor. It crunched, but it wasn't the crisp of waffle batter cooked lightly crisped, but the crunch was sweet. I know I had my eyebrows raised in question.

Henri chuckled. “Oui, I told you it was sweet. I put pearl sugar in the batter. That sugar doesn't really blend with the batter, but it melts on the waffle iron. It caramelizes, making it a browned sugar crunch.”

He was also right about it being denser and chewy. It wasn't a problem, it was delicious. Who needed syrup?

Henri's smile said he knew we would like it. “You need something to stick with you as you walk about Corfu.”

Henri made Canadian Bacon and Croissants. Oh, and our coffees. I drank the milk he served, too. I loved the stuff. I was not lactose intolerant. Mom and Grandmother said I was lactose dependent. Maybe they're right. I had to drink milk before I started my day as much as coffee.

Peter sat back in his chair and sighed. “I need to workout.”

“You and I certainly do.”

Peter grinned. “We'll start that tomorrow. Today we're going through Corfu.”

I stood in front of Mikell as we got ready to go ashore and asked. “You guys aren't wearing those dark suits here, are you?”

Mikell frowned. “Its a great deterrent.”

“Uh huh, so is that face you use when on-duty. It could get up to thirty degrees Celsius here.” That was getting toward eighty-five in Fahrenheit. “You'll die of heat exhaustion!”

Mikell laughed. “I suppose we could wear shorts, t-shirts and sports shoes.”

“Your weapons won't be concealed.” I said. “That will be a deterrent.” I thought a second. “What are the gun laws on Corfu?”

Mikell nodded. “We're fine. Yuri asked King Olek to call the government in Greece. I have the certificate of authorization.”

“How'd he do that!?” I asked as my eyes widened. “It was just a day or two when we decided where to go.”

“Yuri and Boris knew you were coming to Greece. They just didn't know which part.” Mikell shrugged. “Greece is wanting to cut oil and gas imports, which is more than half of their consumption for generating power.”

“Olek offered them a deal.” I smiled at Mikell. “But nuclear power has a big danger, too.”

Mikell nodded. “If Dr. Schneider installs and controls the building of the power plants, Greece agreed. We have the certification.”

I smiled. The future queen had a reputation of being thorough with what she did.

“Great!” I said. “Now, go get dressed.” I turned him around and gave him a light shove.

We got off the Duchess on the pier. The island of Corfu was the second largest in the Ionian Sea. It was about twenty-five or thirty kilometers in length. The Northern portion was maybe ten kilometers wide. Their web-page said there were just over one hundred thousand people that called Corfu home. They had done something I hoped Makarovia was going to do. They became somewhere people wanted to come. Corfu had some gorgeous beaches. Makarovia had snow. A lot. We could compete the Swiss and become the ski destination to come to. My mind was still toying with ice palace idea that we could construct. Ice sculptures, but more infrastructure was needed. Roads had to be added. The new tunnels for the underground helped, but November to March or April snow and ice was the problem.

Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh was born here. Queen Elizabeth, the Second's husband? Homer's Odyssey was here. It's been here a looonng time. Something had to happen during that couple of thousand years. It was inevitable

Peter and I dressed for the warm weather. There were the breezes surrounding water to make it tolerable heat-wise. Shorts and loose t-shirts wore by all of us. Our six guarding us had loose shirts over the t-shirts to try to conceal their holsters and gun chest high for quick access. Shoes you wore when at an event you had to be in shoes with traction was on the feet of our security. The dark glasses looked normal now in this situation. I know, they have job to do and took it very seriously. I just wished they'd smile a little. That made us unapproachable. I seen grown men walk off when felt they were looking at them. No language needed or action necessary. Their faces said, “don't even think about it.” No one challenged that. I kept having to remind myself that they weren't on a honeymoon or vacation. They were working. Still, I worried about them. They would defend Peter or me with their lives if necessary. I just didn't want them to do that. They all didn't watch us all the time. If needed, they told Mikell and took breaks for the bathroom and took breaks for a few minutes. Just not all at once. They were Human Beings. I insisted they drank water. These men were from Makarovia and more used to dealing with cold weather, not warm. You'd think after two years of having this happening, I'd be used to it by now. And I was...sort of. We were escorted to class by them and the house in Boston was guarded by them. They went wherever we went, except in the palace. The past month they were closer because of the many unknown people there.

In doing a little research on the computer, I found out about the Temple of Artemis! That was built in 580 BC! And Gorgon! That mythical creature with snakes for hair. Remember? One look by her turned you to stone? Perseus got help to kill her using a highly reflective shield? I know you remember her. She was depicted on that triangle thingy held up on those columns I wanted to see. Pediment was what that triangle thingy was called. Then I found out hardly anything remained but the pediment. Damn it. No, I didn't believe I would see a temple still standing after a couple of thousand years in predestine condition. I knew the Parthenon was crumbling, but it was still there.

Those gods. They were a Greek Olympian soap opera. With Zeus out screwing literally anyone that catches his eye, he had children with many. Hera, his sister-god-wife would get jealous and turn the poor woman into a monster. Why did she strike out to the woman or man victimized and not Zeus? What about love? Did Zeus love any of them? Did he even love Hera? Who knows? I said it in the ninth grade and I say it again, he couldn't have. Was Hera's power greater than Zeus' power? He was the god-king! The all-powerful Zeus! He couldn't change them back!? Apparently not any more than he could keep his pecker under his tunic. Back to Corfu.

Peter was right beside me at the computer when he suggested, “We can always go to the fortresses, both the new and old ones.”

I nodded. “We can, we've got time.” I looked at him. “We probably will, but...” I sighed. “We live in a fortress. So, forgive me if I can't get that excited to see these two.”

Walking was the best way. Yes, if there was something farther to see, we'd have to arrange transport and to transport eight...it was just too complicated. We told Henri we wouldn't be back for lunch. Why would we? We were in tourism city. That was their claim and we knew there would be great restaurants here.

Using my phone to see where we were going, I found an open market. I don't mean a grocery store. They had produce with fruits and vegetables around, but this was for art! Crafts and all that? There were paintings, statues and even jewelry. There was pottery, vases, bowls, big and small, and jars painted and on display to purchase! You don't have to be gay to appreciate that, but it didn't hurt.

“I have to get something.” I said to Peter as I looked at all that they offered.

Peter shrugged a nod. “You know these aren't authentic, probably.”

“And your point?” I asked him. “I don't care if it is or isn't, it's a reminder of our trip to Corfu.”

Peter chuckled. “Okay.”

I said before, I was now wearing twice as much jewelry than I have in my life. Except for a watch, that was it. Now, a ring on each of my hands were there. We skipped those vendors.

The other thing were the stares. This area had a lot of foot traffic. Many people were staring. You could see people talking to who they were with, confirming they saw us. We did make an impression. Eight men together wasn't that surprising, but how the six guards came with us. They weren't looking at what was available to buy. They were looking around us for any threat. I did note that Mikell and the others let the loose shirts blow open enough to show they were armed.

We did get some vendors a little excited. I saw vase...and that's pronounced vahse according to Katrina Sams. I saw one that caught my eye. It was a two handled vase or pitcher with one on each side for symmetry. About forty-five centimeters tall. (A foot and a half inches.) It was a light brownish color with dark brown silhouettes of people that were approaching a centaur, that part man and part horse creature? It was art.

Then a man in his forties came up as we looked at his wares. He was Greek with the darker olive skin and black hair. A pleasant looking and happy man. “Boró na sas voithíso, tin ýpsosí sas?” He said to himself in Greek and then he caught what he'd done. He bowed, “Forgive me, Your Highness. Your wedding was in English. I speak it well.”

Again the accent was unique. I smiled at him. “I hear that.” I turned to Peter I spoke in Makarovian. “My kupuyemo dlya Oleka ta Khelʹhy?” Asking if we were buying for Olek and Helga.

Peter shrugged. “My mozhemo tse zrobyty,” He smiled at me saying we could. Then said in English. “Or we buy something at the next port.”

I looked at him. “I like this vase.”

“Okay,” Peter nodded with a smile, “Buy it.”

Then I knew what I'd done. “My apologies. It's such a part of me...I shouldn't have done that. It's rude to speak in a language in front of someone that may not understand. We do it all the time.”

He smiled bigger. “I spoke Greek first.”

I chuckled. “There's a phrase in English used when we don't understand something. It's all Greek to me. Now, you just really did.”

The man laughed, but shook his finger in a “no, no” gesture. “I am sorry, but you are not the first person to say that.”

“Sure,” I chuckled. “Someone already stole my thunder.” I looked at him. “Do you ship from here or know where we can?”

“Of course.” He said logically. “You have more to see in Corfu. I will send it. Carrying it around you could break it.” He looked at me questioning. “Do I send it to Makarovia?”

I was about to send it to the Duchess. People knew we lived in Makarovia and in Boston, but not the address. They probably saw us get off the Duchess. I couldn't send it to a future port. I'd be giving people where we were going away.

I sent it to Boston addressed to our Press Secretary, Don Wilson in Boston. I would send a text before it arrived to prevent excitement and misunderstanding when receiving the package. I was sure he did it for the officers he served with. I just didn't want disappoint him.

We had fun! For the two of us, at least. I know what I said.. I swear I'll let it go. Eventually.

This time, it was my stomach that spoke up with a gurgle.

“Okay.” Peter said quickly as he chuckled and pointed. “There's the Tratamento Cafe.”

“Why here?” I asked not caring, but why here?

“They serve seafood.” Peter said simply. “We have to keep up with the meal theme. I'm nowhere near tired of it yet.”

The man behind a counter writing something looked up as we came in. I better understood why people got their entitlement issues. He was a man about Peter's and my age. There was instant recognition. Again, eyes widened and he hurried over...well almost. Mikell stopped him with a raised hand from getting too close. The others got closer to Peter and me.

“Your Highness!” He bowed to us as he said something in Greek. But, like the vendor I bought the vase from, he seemed to be speaking to himself.

I grinned at the place. This was casual dining! It was clean with tables and chairs inside and outside! This was my kind of dining. Comfortable.

“Seating for eight?” The man asked.

“No,” Peter replied. “Just two.” He looked at Mikell. “These gentlemen are working.”

Then the man saw a gun and knew what they were. “Oh, I see.”

Other patrons here were looking and doing it again as they confirmed we were who they thought we were. I knew a lot of people saw the wedding, but not everyone approved. I didn't see any frowns aimed at us. No, we weren't that important, but we made a spectacle in the world getting married as we did.

“But, is there a place where they can watch over us.” I asked pointing at some tables outside. I looked at Mikell. “Is that okay?” Mikell nodded his reply. His face hadn't changed.

The man seating us nodded. “I'm Damon. Can I get you a drink?”

The rest was a typical restaurant experience. Because they had so many English speaking people, the menu was in English, too. Face it, a fish is a fish. What they called it was different. If you couldn't pronounce it, there were pictures to point at and fingers to tell how many. These Greeks even made French Fries...or Crisps.

Calamari for an appetizer and a Greek pasta and scallops and shrimp. It was good! It wasn't Italian, I've had theirs. This tasted different. I could taste the spices and olive oil in the tomato sauce. Yes, I know it's gravy with Italians. I didn't know what the Greeks called it.

I had a friend that came to Greece with an Italian. He said to the Italian it was macaroni and gravy that all Italians called it. His Italian friend got defensive. When my friend said they were the same, Italians and Greeks, his Italian friend vehemently denied it. The Italian became almost furious when told Italians stole the Greek gods, too. My friend obviously survived as it was told in past tense. They are still very, very good friends.

“I bet Henri will can do this.” Peter pointed at his plate with his fork.

It was a very pleasant trip. Corfu was beautiful. The people were friendly.

“Where do we go tonight?” I asked. “They only have one club for us in Corfu.”

“One!?” Peter asked shocked and not understanding how that could be.

I chuckled. “And how many gay clubs does Makarovia have?”

Peter had to think a second. “None, but...” he nodded slowly as he got it. “Oh, they're so open no one is refused.”

I kissed him quickly. “Exactly.”

We asked Captain Agius when we were going to leave. He chuckled. “Whenever you want to leave.”

It was more dangerous with each passing day.