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Inheritance
Jul. 18th, 2006 03:26 pmRecently, Vir's cousin and his young lady love wrote to me - wrote, mind you, rather than used the interstellar broadcasting system. I found myself charmed and impressed, as well as reminded of my mother.
We Centauri tend to mention our fathers more often than our mothers; they are the ones in whose footsteps we are following, or not, as the matter may be. Whether we rebell against them or honour their wishes, it is our fathers we measure ourselves against. My father gave me my name and my position, and I have loved and cursed him for it in equal measure.
My mother, now, my mother gave me something different. She and my father had an eminently sensible arranged marriage; House Mollari had fallen on hard times due to certain events late in my grandfather's life, and thus my father was not able to afford another wife. I shall never know whether or not he had wished for one. I do know he and my mother were at peace with each other. But they were not each other's passion; of course not. We do not expect passion from marriages, unless we are, like Vir and his cousins, still innocent, and still so very young.
Nonetheless, my mother was a passionate woman. Once, as a little boy, I complained to her about having to attend a dull ceremony. I could not see the point; my father had spoken of duty and honor, but I saw only boredom, and that I would rather have spent the hours playing with my friends. My mother stretched out her hand, grabbed me by the chin and said: "Londo Mollari, this is not something you do for your father. It is something you do in service to the Emperor, and the Emperor is the heart of the people."
I looked at her, uncomprehending.
"Come with me," she said, and the summer heat not withstanding, she took me to see the city. She showed me the fountains and the sculptures, she took me to the market where real, live animals were sold, which was a rare thing in the capital, she showed me the space port and had me watch our ships lift from the ground, and I cried in excitement. She took me to the musician's quarter and made me listen to a blind man teaching his pupils how to make him see through their voices. At last, she took me to the Royal Palace itself, but not to the rooms I had been taken before, no, to the gardens. There, she knelt in her beautiful robes, took earth from a flower bed in her hands, and pressed into mine.
"This is Centauri Prime," she said. "It is the most beautiful planet in the universe. This, my son, is for you to love, and for love, no service is too hard."
It might have been my father who made me a nobleman, but my mother made me a true Centauri.
It was the best inheritance she could have given me.
We Centauri tend to mention our fathers more often than our mothers; they are the ones in whose footsteps we are following, or not, as the matter may be. Whether we rebell against them or honour their wishes, it is our fathers we measure ourselves against. My father gave me my name and my position, and I have loved and cursed him for it in equal measure.
My mother, now, my mother gave me something different. She and my father had an eminently sensible arranged marriage; House Mollari had fallen on hard times due to certain events late in my grandfather's life, and thus my father was not able to afford another wife. I shall never know whether or not he had wished for one. I do know he and my mother were at peace with each other. But they were not each other's passion; of course not. We do not expect passion from marriages, unless we are, like Vir and his cousins, still innocent, and still so very young.
Nonetheless, my mother was a passionate woman. Once, as a little boy, I complained to her about having to attend a dull ceremony. I could not see the point; my father had spoken of duty and honor, but I saw only boredom, and that I would rather have spent the hours playing with my friends. My mother stretched out her hand, grabbed me by the chin and said: "Londo Mollari, this is not something you do for your father. It is something you do in service to the Emperor, and the Emperor is the heart of the people."
I looked at her, uncomprehending.
"Come with me," she said, and the summer heat not withstanding, she took me to see the city. She showed me the fountains and the sculptures, she took me to the market where real, live animals were sold, which was a rare thing in the capital, she showed me the space port and had me watch our ships lift from the ground, and I cried in excitement. She took me to the musician's quarter and made me listen to a blind man teaching his pupils how to make him see through their voices. At last, she took me to the Royal Palace itself, but not to the rooms I had been taken before, no, to the gardens. There, she knelt in her beautiful robes, took earth from a flower bed in her hands, and pressed into mine.
"This is Centauri Prime," she said. "It is the most beautiful planet in the universe. This, my son, is for you to love, and for love, no service is too hard."
It might have been my father who made me a nobleman, but my mother made me a true Centauri.
It was the best inheritance she could have given me.
