Chapter 31: A Funeral

Four years after Princess Elaheh's arrival in Kobekistan, the Emir was genuinely sorry to hear that the Earl of Bargoed, his long time friend, had died at the ripe old age of seventy-nine. Their relationship had been very close, closer than would have been legal in the west; the Earl was the father and grandfather of two of the Emir's wives, Princess Ayda and her daughter, Princess Alima. The Earl had also become the third husband of the Emir's English mother, Amelia, Princess Zubeydeh.

Naturally, the Emir gave orders for all possible help to be rendered by the London Embassy, and he flew to London for the funeral, taking the two Princesses with him. Although Alima's daughter, Jhenna knew and liked her great-grandfather, it was decided that a funeral was not an appropriate place for a nine year old child. A brief visit to the Embassy by a delivery van saw Ayda and Alima dressed in extremely smart, black mourning clothes. The Emir was somewhat amused that Alima, in particular, had considerable difficulty with the western clothes which were necessary for this solemn occasion.

"Well," she said, exasperated by the Emir's amusement as she struggled with unfamiliar garments, "I haven't worn a brassière or knickers for twenty years. I've forgotten how to do it!"

"Leave them off," was the unhelpful suggestion from her husband.

The funeral service itself was a very ornate affair in Westminster Abbey, although the Earl would be laid to rest later in the day, at his express wish, in the churchyard of St. Helen's in Sandiacre, a beautiful spot which looked out across the river Erewash to Stapleford Grange. The two Princesses were in the front pew with the widow and Ayda's elder sister Valerie, the new Countess of Bargoed. Immediately opposite in the other front pew sat King George VII, much to their surprise. The Emir was about a third of the way back, in what he considered an unobtrusive position. After all he was here mainly to support his mother and his wives, not as the Emir of Kobekistan. As the congregation were leaving the Abbey, the King stopped beside the pew in which the Emir stood and beckoned him over. The Emir bowed.

"I understand that this is a personal and unofficial visit, so I won't delay you, sir," the King said, "I just wished to offer my personal condolences. I understand you knew him well?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, our families were related by marriage," said the Emir, wondering how to explain if there were any further questions.

"You must come on a State Visit one day, and bring your wives to tea at the Palace."

"Thank you, your Majesty. We would like that," replied the Emir and the King left, followed in strict order of protocol by the Dowager Countess as the grieving widow, the other family mourners, and then the rest of the congregation.

In the helicopter going up to Stapleford for the interment Zubeydeh asked her son, "What did the King say to you?"

"Oh, nothing. Formal condolences and an invitation to make a State Visit."

"When you went to Oxford and knew almost nothing of Kobekistan, I don't suppose you expected ever to speak on equal terms with a King of England," she replied, "Nor did I ever expect to meet the late Queen Elizabeth II, but my husband was something of a favourite of hers and we visited her several times. I had never met the King before today, not even when he was only a Prince. Will you make a State Visit?"

"I doubt it, there is no reason for one," the Emir replied.

Zubeydeh looked at him for a moment, and then said with a twinkle in her eye, "You should. I'm sure Ayda and Alima would like to have tea at Buckingham Palace, and I would give my eye teeth to be a fly on the wall when the flunkeys are trying to work out the correct protocol to cope with a Royal visitor accompanied by two wives!"