Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 44. Chapter 44

The Honeymoon

We woke up with no itinerary for the day. The curtains were drawn which were thick and made the stateroom dark. I couldn't tell where the sun was. Until I became accustom to the Duchess, I needed use my own things. I held my watch up and touched the button on the side to illuminate the watch's face.

Peter moved, groaning a little. “I don't want to get up.”

“You don't have to.” I said rolling over. “But Yuri and Boris want to see us sail away.” I moved my face closer to him. “They have their own honeymoon to go on.”

Peter grudgingly nodded. “Okay. What time is it?”

“Just five minutes from nine.”

Peter sighed. “I guess we need to see them off.” He started to roll off, but ended up scooting to the edge of the round bed. “This is a comfortable bed, but I stretched out thinking I was on the edge only to have more bed.”

I chuckled. “I had the opposite problem. My head would go to where I thought was the edge and found there wasn't any.”

Peter nodded sighing with mock resolution. “We'll just have to suffer.” He rubbed the surface of the bed and bounced slightly. “It was comfortable.”

I chuckled coming over kissing him quickly. “You'll get used to it.”

The bathroom was just like everything else, white, cream and ivory. Gold fixtures. Countess von Bar liked her extra comforts. The floor looked like marble, but those usual lines that ran through marble was gold, not black or gray. It was subtle. There was a stand alone shower that had enough shower heads that would not just get you clean, but massage your body. She had a tub big enough to soak in, be it one or two people. That was convenient. There are just so many words to describe what was there. It was huge!

Peter spotted something on the wall. A panel. He grinned. “Look.” He pointed. “Heated floors and towel racks!” He pressed a few buttons. “I'm trying them out.”

I tell you, they worked. No cold floor and nice warm towels to dry off with.

“You said Mario was born with money.” I said as I dried off.

Peter nodded. “He was.”

“I wonder how he remained unspoiled.” I said out loud. “He doesn't think he's better than anyone. He doesn't look down on anybody.” I waved at the yacht around us. “His sister doesn't suffer and was generous to let us use the Duchess.”

Peter chuckled. “It is possible to be rich and still be humble.”

I shook my head. “I guess, but if Maria is like Mario, which seems to be the case, how did they get that way?”

“My research didn't tell me that.” Peter grumbled. “You'll have to ask him.”

“I will.” I nodded. “When we get back.”

The quick shower and we hit a snag. It wasn't too bad, but we didn't unpack. Someone else did. It was arranged logically. Casual, semi-formal and formal. The drawer with our underwear and socks were all mixed up. Not that it mattered, but some people got territorial with personal items.

It was nine thirty when we came out of our stateroom. We came to the dining room where Boris and Yuri were eating breakfast. It was a French breakfast. Our chef was French. There were Croissants and cheese (fromage) and crepes. I smiled at Boris and Yuri.

“Did you leave us anything?” I asked them.

“Crumbs.” Yuri replied.

I looked around and didn't see the security guards. “Where is our security?” I had gotten used to seeing them and now they were gone.

Yuri gave a nod. “We're in port.” He shrugged. They are watching the area to be sure we're safe in port.”

A man in his late thirties or early forties came in. “Ah, vos altesses,” your highness, he bowed to us. He wore a chef's shirt, but skipped the tall white hat. His hair was still dark brown, but he liked to not only cook food, he liked to eat as was evident from the few pounds more than he needed. “I am Henri. I was told by Boris you enjoy seafood, no? I made Crepes aux Crevettes et au Homard. That's shrimp and lobster with a light tangy cheese sauce. I have more, or I can make you something else.”

“Henri is a wonderful chef.” Boris assured. “It's delicious.”

“Boris told you correctly.” I smiled. “If it comes from the water, I love it. Crabs, shellfish, prawns, fish, mussels and anything else from the sea, it's all good to me.”

“Me, too.” Peter agreed and looked at me. “Do you know I never had a seafood meal until I left Makarovia?”

My eyes widened. “Oh, you poor guy!” It wasn't really said as a joke. I did feel sorry for him. I never went without it. I was raised on the coast as well as the mountains. I crabbed and caught shrimp all the time in Charleston. I ate something related to the ocean at least once a week, if not more.

He shrugged. “Other than the occasional fresh water fish, I never had so much as flounder.”

I nodded. “I guess not. Being that far inland would be hard to get fresh seafood.” I looked at Henri. “We need to make up for that. Can we have something with seafood every day?”

“Absolument!” He said in French. “Any cultural preference?”

I shook my head. “No, surprise us. You're a chef.”

Henri bowed. “I will bring it to you.” He touched some urns. “We have fresh squeezed orange juice and we have apple juice...”

“Coffee?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Oui.” Henri said with a smile and pointed at Peter. “Boris also told me you like hot macchiato. We have Noisette. I hope you will like it. It's very good.” He turned to me. “You like a cold vanilla latte. I'll get those right away.”

I nodded. “Oh, yes.” I concluded. “This is very dangerous. I love this!”

We met with Captain Agius and discussed where to go.

“We have enough fuel to go anywhere.” The Captain said. “You are looking for ports in Greece. It's over 1100 kilometers to Corfu. Once there it's very friendly to you.” He smiled patiently. “You also don't want to go where people do not view your marriage a positive thing. Both sides of the Adriatic Sea are not that accommodating. We can make it to Corfu with no problem, but I suggest Kotor, Montenegro first. They are trying to cater to some groups about cruise ships coming there. Increase tourism. I know last year, they had a Podgorica Pride in the capital.” He smiled. “Gay Pride?” He shrugged. “It's not a big country, but they say their are trying.”

“And you?” Peter asked. “What do you say?”

The Captain bobbed his head. “I don't get what the problem is.” He shook his head. “Homosexuals are everywhere. In every race and in every country. Millions of people around the world! Some don't care about the gender. In Malta homosexuals have the same rights as anyone. Except for Makarovia, we have the most progressive rights for gay people.” He frowned. “We aren't a big country. We only have about half a million people, but we see people. If you don't commit crimes, you're fine.”

Peter grinned. “You're a wise people.”

We decided to go there as well. Corfu, Athens, Mykonos and Malta. We even decided to go to the island where Yuri and Boris were staying before going back to Venice. They'd cruise back with us and we'd all fly back to Makarovia.

We did cruise over to Porto Marghera, a series of ports on Italian mainland. It was a port they could take a transport to the airport with no problem. Our two friends were doing what they said they'd do.

From the Duchess, we saw their luggage being put in an SUV that waited to take them to the airport.

“I worry,” Yuri confessed to Peter and me. “It's not just my job. I came to know both of you and I care for you.” He smiled taking an arm from both of us. “You took a big step last Saturday.” He grimaced. “There some dangerous people out there.” He then smiled. “We've dealt with them for decades...”

“Centuries.” Boris added. “Yuri and I are not Russians that hid in Makarovia. We are Makarovians. It's our home. It says so on our passports. People took things from Makarovia because they could.”

Yuri nodded. “Not anymore. You two helped Makarovia step out into the world telling everyone we're here. I can't wait to see what you do next.” This time he hugged us. Not just accepted one from us. “I will worry.” Then he shook that parental finger at us. “Listen to the men assigned to protect you. Enjoy yourselves, but be smart like I know you are. I'm leaving Mikell in charge. Remember him?”

“Yes.” Peter said.

“We'll see you in ten days.” I said to them.

We watched them disembark and stood by the SUV. The Duchess' soft sounding engines increased and we began to move away from the port.

Peter looked at me. “What do we do now?”

I shrugged. “Whatever we want.” I turned looking at the surrounding deck. It had a number of cushioned lounges both in the shade and in the sun. The color theme was still white, cream and gold. There was a lap pool. “Yep, this is dangerous. I'm getting spoiled already.”

Peter nodded. “Me, too.”

It was only a little more than five hundred miles to Montenegro. We weren't racing to Podgorica. The breeze from the water was relaxing as was the gentle rocking of the Duchess.

Getting unwound for me was tough. That surprised me. I made myself relax. That feeling that you needed to be somewhere was hard to shake.

I did research on Montenegro. Makarovia was actually bigger. It did have an advantage Makarovia didn't. It had access to the Adriatic Sea. Therefore, the rest of the world.

Captain Agius was right. We were everywhere. They had a population about the size of Malta. About half a million people. Most lived in Podgorica. Still they had a good number of people marching in the Pride Parade. Montenegro borders Bosnia to the Northwest and Serbia on the East. I'm sure you know those names. Unrest just seemed to be a curse in this part of the world. Agree or don't, I blame the religions for that. Like Makarovia, there were powers that controlled Montenegro. The Ottomans and recently Yugoslavia. They decriminalized homosexual activity in 1977. While the didn't prosecute gays, they allowed the to serve in the military.

On the other hand, just like almost everywhere, there were samples of horrible intolerance. Police caught two becoming “intimate” in a park. It didn't say what they were doing. The police decided to teach them a lesson by beating them, locking them up naked and in the dark in jail a night. Activists took it to court and the police that did it were accountable.

There were other accounts hate and intolerance. My blood ran cold. Peter and I were on our honeymoon. I was a prince now. Visibility was the way to make changes. Peter and I had been very visible when we married. I represented no one in Montenegro. Or did I? Even if it was a short visit, Peter and I would be seen there. Together. With the political help from Great Britain and the United States in Makarovia, I was determined to make a difference while there. They wanted to be a part of the European Community? Start with tolerance.

When I told Peter and Mikell who was the security guard in charge while we traveled. Peter's eyes widened.

“Wait,” Peter said holding his hand up. “They're tolerant, but intolerant? How?”

“Allowing gay, lesbians the right to be together, but not allowing them to marry, for one.” I said back. “We made a statement on Saturday. Love is love. We married and to Hell with the rest of those who don't understand that.”

Mikell was typical security. Big. He shook his head. “Be sure Yuri knows this was your idea.”

I laughed at him. “I don't worry about Yuri. You shouldn't either.” I looked at him. “He isn't wrong to be concerned. We are putting ourselves in danger.” I shrugged. “Who would be better than us? We're already seeing the results. Everywhere we've been, they knew who we were before we told them.”

Peter nodded. “We're on our honeymoon, not to further the rights of gays and lesbians.”

“Why can't we do both?” I asked. “We are pretty high profile. Millions saw us marry. There is a man here, Zdravko Cimbaljevic.” I said carefully. “He is the first openly gay man in Montenegro. He was the man who organized the first pride march in Montenegro. I know he would love to show us his country.” I looked at Peter. “These people have done what Makarovia did. They hid.”

Peter shook his head. “Why are we going there!?”

“Just like Makarovia does,” I began. “They want to participate more in the world.” I reasoned. “They want the reward without accepting that we are all different. They need to grow up.” I gave a nodding shrug. “If you say no, I'll understand, but we didn't marry in private. We allowed the world to watch us. Why?”

Peter nodded. “I understand why.”

“We are pretty well known and we have the support of two very powerful nations.” I reasoned. “They wouldn't dare let us get hurt.”

Mikell looked at Peter and shrugged. “He's right.”

At Peter's nod, I grinned. “I'll call Mr. Cimbaljevic.”

I used the number on the website and used the Duchess' phone. After a hesitant answer. “Bongu?” Probably because of what showed on the caller ID screen. Assuming they had caller ID. I assumed that was what the hesitation was about.

“Kakoy yazyk vy predpochitayete? Russkiy? Ukrayinsʹka ? Or do you prefer English?” I asked using Russia, Ukrainian and of course, English.

“I prefer English if I have those choices.” The male voice said.

“Fine.” I said. “This is Prince Eric Ivanov of Makarovia. Who do I speak to regarding our arrival there?”

“Ma nemminx hekk.”

I chuckled remembering when I called Drew that first time when he said I was shitting him. From the tone, I figured out it meant something similar. “It is what I say. I am on my honeymoon with my husband Prince Pedro Ivanov. We will be arriving in the morning. We'd like to see Montenegro.”

“You are serious?”

“I am.” I chuckled. “We could just forget that and just proceed to Corfu. I understand Montenegro wants to be a part of a more global world. Will we be welcomed? Is Zdravko Cimbaljevic available?”

“Not at moment.” The voice answered. “He can call you?”

“I'm on a ship.” I said. “We'll probably arrive at night. We're on the Grandduchessa. I would love it if someone there showed us around.”

The man now sounded flustered. “They can.” He was writing something with a pencil. I heard it. “My phone says number. You want me give to Zdravko? He call back.” He said in broken English.

“That will be fine.” I assured. “I look forward to hearing from you.” I hung up.

Peter was thinking about what I'd told him. “Do you think this visit will help?”

I shrugged a nod. “It can't hurt.” I sighed. “We're shining a spotlight on them. Things won't change if no one sees who we are.” I turned to Peter. “They have both Christians and Muslims there. They want to play in the world's sandbox, they will have to become more accepting about what the world is made of.” I saw him nod slightly. “If you don't want to do this, I can call and cancel.”

Peter turned a little pink. “I'm being selfish.”

“With what?” I asked.

Peter shrugged. “This is supposed to be about us. Our honeymoon.”

I nodded and came to him. “It is.” I assured. “I looked up the other destinations. Corfu, Athens and Mykonos are very accepting. There will be nice. It will be just you and me.”

Peter nodded. “Why did Captain Agius recommend this place?”

I shrugged. “Let's ask him.”

Captain Agius was in his office attached to the bridge. He smiled at us as we came in.

“What can I do for you?” He asked pleasantly.

“By telling us why you recommended Montenegro.” I said.

The Captain nodded, but avoided looking in our eyes and sighed. “My brother is like you are.” He confessed. “My son tells me he's attracted to both girls and boys.” Then he looked at Peter and me. “My brother got involved with a man and they took a trip and one stop was in Montenegro.” He looked angry now. “They were arrested and held for almost a week. Indecency was the charge.” He held his hands out helplessly. “They kissed! That's all.”

I nodded. “I see.”

“Who better to go there and show you're just people? You don't have to go.” Captain Agius said. “You two were married live on television! You can kiss in Podgorica! That's no more indecent than straight couples who kiss in public.” His eyebrows came together. “My brother and his partner were beaten by police and other inmates.” He now spoke more determined. “He was raped and the police knew it and did nothing to stop it. They committed no crime even using Montenegro law.”

Peter and I looked at each other.

“I guess we have to.” Peter nodded.

It was another two hours when a steward came to us. “Forgive me, your highness, but you have a phone call.” He presented me with a mobile handset.

“Hello?”

An accented voice began. “This is Zdravko Cimbaljevic. You called a while ago?”

“I did. I'm glad you called back.” I said pleasantly. “I am Prince Eric Ivanov. I was married Saturday.”

“I saw the wedding on television.” Zdravko said.

“Good.” I responded. “Then you probably know Prince Pedro and I are on our honeymoon.”

“That makes sense.” Zdravko said back. “I was told you were coming here. Why do you want to come here?”

I answered honestly. “It's on the way.” I said simply. “I read somethings about Montenegro. It decriminalized what we do in 1977, but many still suffer persecution still.”

“We do.”

“I think a visit by us could help.” I said. “Will we be welcomed?”

“Yes!” Zdravko said immediately and then he said softer. “By some of us, at least. It's getting better, but...”

“You organized the first Pride Parade in Podgorica.” I said. “You are out in Montenegro. That's brave.”

“It is necessary.” Zdravko said simply. “Someone had to be the first.”

“We will shine a light on Montenegro and it's struggle to accept all people. Or the lack of acceptance.”

“I look forward to meeting you.” Zdravko said excitedly. “How early?”

I chuckled. “After nine, please.”

“I will be there!”

Hanging up I smiled at Peter. “They want to show they are a progressive nation.”

Peter nodded. “Don't they have a right to believe what they think is right?”

I gave a grudging nod. “They do, but to force those beliefs on others? Is that fair?”

“No.” Peter agreed as he brought me close. “My love for you is a fact. Not a belief.”

I nodded. “As mine is for you.”