The Music Trilogy (7 page)

CHAPTER 8

Sela was finishing breakfast in her suite at the hôtel de Crillon, Paris’ most luxurious hotel, and was reading a newspaper in the lavishly decorated apartment. She wore a lovely simple lace negligee under a silk overcoat. Although her surroundings were elegant and comfortable she shuddered. There were riots in Russia, the commoners were getting stronger, the Tsar was getting weaker, and Ivan was in the middle.

There was a knock on the door. Odd, she thought, she wasn’t expecting anyone, and she had already eaten breakfast.

“Enter!” She said, looking up.

The door opened and before her stood the commanding figure of Ivan.

Sela screamed: “Ivan, oh, Ivan, you made it to Paris and you’re safe. Oh, thank God!” She threw the newspaper on the floor, ran, and jumped on him. They almost fell over. They kissed passionately, hungry for one another. Ivan whisked her up in his arms, closed the door with his foot and carried her into the room. They kissed some more and held on to each other. After a few moments Ivan put her down.

“What a fantastic surprise! How long will you be in Paris?” Sela asked.

“I am here to stay.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am the new Ambassador of Russia to Paris.”

“That’s wonderful!” She exclaimed, jumping on him again like a teenager. Ivan reeled and held her, keeping his balance.

“Wait, wait, there’s more,” he laughed.

“More? How could there be more than that?”

“I have a mission.”

“Oh, no, does that mean you will leave very soon and do something dangerous?”

“Well, it could be dangerous,” he laughed again.

“What is so funny?”

“I’ve been thinking about this
mission
for quite a while now,” he said. She stared at him blankly. Ivan got down on one knee, took her hand, kissed it, and said: “Mademoiselle Sela Vidalis, would you do me the great honor of marrying me?” Sela stared, expecting everything and anything, but not a proposal, at least not at that instant. She held her breath and looked into his deep blue eyes. She saw how full of love they were. There was no question in his mind, or in hers.

“Ivan Vladimirov, Grand Duke of all Russia, Ambassador to France, and love of my life, YES! Oh, yes.” Ivan smiled the most radiant of smiles, as only a man very much in love can. He took a ring out of his pocket, an enormous ruby cut into the shape of a heart, surrounded by baguette diamonds. “It is stunning, Ivan! And believe me, I know something about jewelry.”

“It was my great aunt’s, Catherine. It was given to her by the only man she ever really loved. Now, it is yours, my sweet. Every time you look at it, may you know that my heart is as radiant as the ruby, for you are the only one who can give me such joy, and I in turn promise to love you forever.” Ivan slid it on her finger, stood up, and kissed her deeply. Sela led him to the bed.

“My love, we are not married yet,” Ivan said. He desperately wanted to make love to her, he would be a fool if he didn’t, but for her sake he wanted everything to be right.

“I know, Ivan. You are the man of my life and I plan to spend the rest of my days with you. In my heart we are married, and I am sure that in the eyes of God we are already man and wife. We can do the official and religious formalities later,” she said, smiling seductively.

“Are you sure you’re not in politics?” He said, grinning. He pinned her down lightly on the bed and caressed her face lovingly. Sela shuddered. She shook her head.

“No, music is my profession and my passion; you are my husband and the music of my soul.”

Ivan and Sela spent several months in Paris and then went to Egypt to get married.

♫

CHAPTER 9

Ali and his parents were sitting in their little home, although cozy and warm, no more than a shack. Ali was now a young man, distinguished and tall with an air of accomplishment he could hardly contain. Leila, his mother, hugged him, tears streaming down her face.

“Why are you crying, Mama?”

“I am so proud of you, my son,” she said.

“But that is no reason to cry,” Ali said, holding her even tighter.

“Ah, that is what women do when they are happy. I’ll never understand them,” Jamil sighed. “But she is right, we are very proud of you,” he continued, holding a piece of paper in his hand. “You have accomplished something none of us have ever done. You are the first one in our family to ever graduate from a school. You have made a tired old fisherman very happy.” Jamil was holding Ali’s diploma and beaming.

“It is time,
Bába
,” Ali said.

“Yes, Ali.” Jamil went to the tiny kitchen and pulled out one of the floorboards. He took out the envelope. “We have kept our word to Dr. Simeon. It has never been opened. That is the promise we made and the least we could do for having saved your life.” They looked at the envelope. It had accumulated dust over the years. He handed it to his son. “You open it, Mr. Educated man, besides, neither your mother nor I can read.” Ali blew on it and gently wiped it off. He opened it carefully and held the letter the doctor had written so many years ago and read it out loud.

Dear Ali,

Today you graduated from school. Congratulations! You may not remember me (at this point it has been quite a few years), but after the operation for your appendicitis you mentioned you wanted to be a doctor. I looked into your eyes and you reminded me of myself when I had been your age. It was that same look, that same yearning for something you want so badly, something you believe in so strongly that will make you succeed. It becomes almost physically painful. I believe in you too, Ali. I saw it in your soul that afternoon.

If it is still your desire to enter the medical field take this bankbook that I started the day you left the hospital. It is in your name. It will be more than enough for a good medical education, and I know that you will become an important man of medicine. But if you have perhaps changed your mind over the past few years and decide to embark in a different field, you may of course do so and use the money that is waiting for you. My only request is that you donate a third of it to medical research. I leave that choice to you. Also, your father gave me a wonderful gift for which he did not want payment. So, for that reason as well and for the reasons I have just stated, use the funds wisely.

I wish you great success in your career and in your life. My very best to your parents. I pray you are all well.

Sincerely,

Simeon Vidalis, Doctor of Medicine

June 1, 1905

Ali looked at the bankbook. The doctor had put in a fair amount and Ali knew that over the years it had accumulated more than enough to pay for a fine medical education. “There is enough money here to put me through very expensive medical school!” He exclaimed, “and I’m sure that you can retire too, Bába.”

“Allah be praised. He has sent us an angel,” Leila said, her tears now really streaming down her face.

“You are very right, my dear wife, Allah be praised indeed. Our son will become a physician like Dr. Simeon. As far as retirement I am not that old, and I still enjoy what I do. When you become a doctor, maybe then,” he said, smiling with great pride and joy.

“I will go see Doctor Simeon. I will tell him that the time has come to enroll in medical school. I must thank him,” Ali said. Since meeting Dr. Simeon being a doctor had become a delicious obsession.

“That is a good idea. I will make him the most succulent desserts.” Leila said, still remembering his compliment.

Jamil nodded. “That is a good idea indeed.”

Ali carefully carried the package of sweets his mother had prepared as he walked toward the hospital. On his way, he passed the Greek Orthodox Church of St. Catherine. The street was quiet and carriages decorated with a myriad of fresh flowers were parked along the edges. The horses’ manes were even braided and intertwined with little blossoms. There seemed to be a wedding in progress. Ali looked up and stared at the Greek cross. He stopped and said a prayer: “I know that you are not my God and that there is only one God, but I thank you for sending me your messenger—Dr. Simeon. I have thanked Allah and the good doctor for years for my life and good fortune, and so I ask you as well, God of the
Yunani
, of the Greeks, to please protect him and his family, today and every day. I thank you with all my heart and soul.” At that very moment the church bells rang. Ali almost jumped. Could that have been an answer? He wondered. Suddenly the church doors opened and people flowed out, lining the steps in front. Ali noticed they were expensively dressed, with lovely silk dresses and perfectly tailored suits. It must be someone rich or important, he thought. He recognized several politicians and local and international entertainers. They waited for the bride and groom to come out. Curious, Ali waited as well. A few minutes later a very handsome couple emerged arm in arm from the church. Ali’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the bride. He had never seen such a pretty woman and such a happy bride. Her wedding dress of white silk was simple, elegant and perfect for the sash that was tied around one shoulder, then crossed her chest and went down to her waist. Ali gasped. It was not made of material; instead it was a belt of diamonds interspersed with precious gems of all colors. It was blinding and magnificent. The groom, in an elegant white Imperial Russian uniform, was dashing and beaming proudly next to his new bride. He had a great number of medals pinned to his chest and he too was wearing a sash, one of silk with yet more medals. He must at the very least be a prince, Ali thought. They looked so happy, so very happy. The newlyweds were showered by rainbows of rice and flower petals, but Ali could not keep his eyes off the bride. One day he would love to have a wife as exquisite as this woman. From the expression on her face he longed to be loved as much as she loved this man. He could see their happiness in their little hand movements and their body language. Ali smiled. He was happy for them and his heart glowed. It was a wonderful day. An older man stood behind them, a big man. Of course! It was Doctor Simeon—just as big as Ali remembered him, bigger than life itself. He hadn’t expected to see him there and Ali was absolutely delighted. The doctor’s hair was a little thinner, sporting elegant streaks of gray and his beard looked as if someone has painted little silver lines in it. He looked radiant and blissful. Ali remembered he had a daughter, this must be her wedding, he thought.

The married couple climbed into the flower laden carriage. The guests shouted, clapped and waved. Ali went toward Simeon. He had waited a long time for this day, to see his idol again, to shake his hand, his
big
hand, yet delicate enough to perform life saving operations. He stood in front of the doctor and extended his arm to him, a little apprehensive. He still felt like a boy in front of this giant. Simeon looked at the young man and shook his hand.

“Doctor Simeon, I came to thank you,” Ali said, “but I should add congratulations. The beautiful woman getting married is your daughter, yes?” Simeon nodded, beaming. He looked at the young man and tried to place him—he seemed familiar, but from where? He was plainly dressed and his clothes were clean and well pressed. Was he here for the wedding? Was he a friend of Sela’s? Why did he want to thank him? Was he a patient? Surely he would remember, wouldn’t he? He still could not place him. “I have brought you a gift,” Ali continued. “My mother, Leila, made them just for you—she remembered how much you enjoyed them, but I will have to tell her to make some more for your daughter. May her marriage be as sweet as my mother’s desserts.”

Simeon looked at the box, with the ever-present childlike gleam in his eyes. He rubbed his beard and suddenly exclaimed: “
Ali!
You are little Ali! My, you have become a fine young man. I am delighted to see you. This is a wonderful surprise.” Simeon embraced him and Ali grinned as he disappeared in the big man’s arms.

“It is a joy to see you as well, Doctor. I came to tell you that I graduated, like I promised, and that I am going to enroll in medical school. I thank you once again for everything you have done.”

“This is definitely a pleasure, young man, and I insist you stay for the festivities. Come, let me introduce you to my daughter and her husband.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

They headed toward the carriage where Sela and Ivan had just settled in. Behind them Ali saw a man in a dark suit walking toward the couple. His clothes were not of the same caliber as the other guests. On the contrary, they looked cheap and they were wrinkled. He did not look like an Arab, nor did he look Greek. Ali shuddered. His eyes were dark and menacing. His nose was distorted as if it had been broken several times, and he had a scar from his cheek to his chin. He was short and stocky; his pace quick and purposeful. Ali felt a chill run down his spine and dropped the box of desserts when the man suddenly pulled out a pistol from under his jacket. Ivan and Sela were kissing. They didn’t see the man until he jumped on the carriage step and aimed his weapon at the groom.

“
Oomerit!
Die! All Royals must die!” The assassin shouted at Ivan in Russian. Ali ran toward the man. Simeon stared, not quite understanding or believing the scene in front of him. A woman, from among the guests, screamed. Ali lunged for the man but the bullet had already left the gun. It hit Ivan in the chest. The assassin turned the gun toward Sela and was ready to pull the trigger but Ali made contact and he and the man fell off the carriage and rolled to the ground. They struggled for the weapon as another shot went off. Ali flew off the man and landed like a discarded rag, blood covering his upper torso.

It was pandemonium. Women screamed. Men shouted. Many scurried in all directions. Several of the men, now understanding the scene they just witnessed, grabbed the scarred assassin and his gun and subdued him.

Ivan’s white uniform had turned an ugly crimson. His blood was splattered on Sela’s wedding dress. She held him, crying, screaming: “Ivan, Ivan, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me!” She wailed.

“You will always be the music of my soul,” he whispered. “Kiss me, my love,” he said, struggling to speak.

Sela gently kissed his mouth, cradling and rocking him in her arms, until she felt his last breath leave his body and her lips.

♫