The Virgin King

by John Michael Curlovich

  “More or less, yes.”

  “Good. Excellent. I want Logan Bockwein.”

  Alex tried, unsuccessfully, to conceal his astonishment. Between his surprise at the new king and his memories of the previous one, it took him a moment to recover. “What?! Er, I mean, I beg your pardon, Raymond?”

  “Don’t act so startled. Kings do have a right to choose their friends, don’t they?”

  “F—f—friends? Uh, yes, of course they do, But—”

  “Mr. Bockwein is a beautiful man.”

  Beautiful? Hardly a word a heterosexual man would use about another one. Alex wondered if Raymond understood the nature of this attraction—if he understood his own nature. “But—but—he is an American. A member of the diplomatic corps. You don’t really have any authority to—”

  “I want him here. I want that. You were just telling me that as king I can get anything I want, remember?”

  “Anything in Bulvania, yes. But—”

  “It’s not as if I want to order him to be my friend. I know how absurd that would be.” He lowered his eyes, and the tone of his voice softened. “I want to get to know him, Alex. He looks like the kind of friend I’ve always dreamed of having.”

  “Friend.” Alex was deadpan. Raymond was certainly living up to his family’s long tradition of, well, of having “friends” of the same gender.

  But Raymond didn’t seem to understand. In blank amazement he said, “Yes, friend. What else could I want him for?”

  There was no point pushing. Raymond was young, and he was even more inexperienced than most men his age. Time would ripen him. But… Logan!

  Raymond was certainly right; Logan was undoubtedly a beautiful man. But Alex couldn’t shake the image of Logan, naked and cavorting with the royal guards. Not only was he not a suitable partner for the young king, but Raymond—barely into his twenties, green, inexperienced and quite frankly scruffy—was hardly the kind of man who could capture his attention, much less hold it.

  But there was tradition. With a good Bulvanian, there was always tradition. Alex’s family, the Borodenkos, had served Bulvania’s kings since the Middle Ages. Several of them had been their kings’ lovers, privately if not publicly. Alex knew it was his duty to see to Raymond’s happiness. He not only knew that, he felt it, deep in his bones.

  But… Logan Bockwein!

  Still, there had to be a way. There had to. It wouldn’t be easy, but…

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What?! He wants what?!” Logan didn’t know whether to be alarmed or flabbergasted.

  Alex had invited him to lunch in his quarters in the guards’ barracks. They had steak, grilled vegetables and a fine old red wine. Alex maintained a calm, careful, military demeanor. “He wants to meet you. Strictly between us, I think he is a bit smitten. Not that I blame him.”

  “He—he—he can’t be gay. He can’t be. I mean, look at him.”

  Alex was serene. “I look at him and see the king.”

  “Alex, you’re not serious. I’ve been cavorting with the most gorgeous men in Bulvania. Your men. Raymond would be—well, let’s just say he wouldn’t be at all what I’m used to.”

  “You haven’t gotten to know him the way I have, Logan. He’s actually kind of attractive, in his nerdy, monkish way.”

  Logan’s head was spinning. This was the last thing he expected. Or wanted. “Attractive? Alex, I know he’s your king, and I know you’re loyal to him. But he looks like something the cat had in the alley.”

  Alex bristled. His tone turned serious, and he put on his best command voice. “He is the king. We do not speak about him like that.”

  “Sorry. But, Alex—”

  “All I’m asking is that you meet him. Privately. For dinner, one on one. It wouldn’t be so very different from what we’re doing right now.”

  Logan sipped his wine and said nothing.

  “Look, if nothing else, it would help your father swing his tin deal. Even a newly-crowned king has a lot of influence.” He couldn’t resist adding. “And so do I.”

  There had to be a way to change the subject. “This is excellent steak. Is it imported?”

  “No, it is local. We grow good, hearty stock here.” He took a drink. “If you get my drift.”

  Logan’s shoulders slumped. If there was a way out of this, he couldn’t think of it. He’d just have to keep telling himself he was doing it for Zinc, Inc., grit his teeth and do it. “But… but I don’t even know what I could talk about with him.”

  “He’s smart, Logan. He’s had scientific papers published in respected journals.”

  “‘Hello, your highness. Did you know that E=MC2?’”

  “You’re being ridiculous. Look, no one expects you to sleep with him. Or even become close friends. Just meet him, that’s all. Have dinner with him. Get to know him and let him get to know you. It’s not as if you’re going to become his lover.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “You’d have to have him dry-cleaned.”

  “Logan, please.”

  “Well… I want you to be there, too. I don’t want to be alone with him. I’ve known too many toxic closet cases to—”

  “He is not ‘a closet case.’ He simply doesn’t know who he is yet. The world he’s in now is completely new to him.” He finished his steak and put the fork down. “Give him a chance.”

  “A chance to do what?”

  “Logan, please. If you want me to be there, I’ll be there. I’ll tell him you’re nervous or something.”

  “You wouldn’t be far wrong.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t sound so put-upon. Having dinner with a king isn’t exactly a social disgrace. Neither is having a king for a friend. Not everyone will feel sorry for you.”

  Logan was deflated. “Well… all right, then. But I definitely want you there too. I mean that. This is bound to be awkward, to say the least.”

  “I’ll be there. So, we have a bargain?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Good. How is the day after tomorrow?”

  “Why not?”

  “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  * * *

  And so just like that Logan had a dinner date. It was so unexpected, and he found Raymond so unattractive, he had no idea what to expect or how to react to the situation.

  P.T., on the other hand, was completely gung-ho for it. “Good work. I knew I could count on you to make some useful connections here.”

  “So, you didn’t bring me along out of fatherly devotion?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Logan. Business is business. Just don’t push the deal too hard, all right? I’m working on some other angles, and everything will have to come together just right.”

  “Give me a bit of credit, will you? What would I say? ‘Good evening, your majesty. I hope you’re well. Why not sell my father some tin?’”

  “Stop being silly. I know your social skills. You never say the wrong thing. But this deal is important.”

  Constantine, in his turn, couldn’t have been more excited when he heard about the dinner. “Excellent! Then you must invite him here, in turn. When word gets out in the service that I’ve arranged an event for the king… ”

  “We should have left you in Athens.”

  Marge was the only one who responded to the news calmly. “So, the king likes you, does he? I always knew you’d marry well.”

  “Don’t be repulsive, Margery. This is just dinner, nothing more. And Alex Borodenko will be there the whole time.”

  “You need a nanny?”

  “Stop it, Marge. I really don’t want to be alone with a closeted dweeb, that’s all. There could be too many unpleasant developments.”

  “Poor, poor Logan. He’s dining with the king. How much trouble can one man bear?”

  “I know, I know. It’s just that… well, you’ve seen him. Can you really picture me with him?”

  “I can picture you snagging a rich, powerful lover.”

  Logan sighed and left her in
her office. His head was spinning. He went to his room, crawled into bed and slept for hours.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For two days Logan fretted and complained. And no one took him and his complaints seriously, not Evgeny, Peter and the other guards, not the staff at the embassy, no one.

  Then finally the day came. Not wanting to look too attractive for the king, he put on his third-best suit and got ready to leave for the palace.

  Constantine didn’t approve of the way he was dressed. “You should wear your Armani. You look incredibly hot in it.”

  “That’s exactly the idea. I don’t want to give ‘his majesty’ any encouragement.”

  “You should. For your father’s sake, for my sake, for all kinds of reasons.”

  “You and my father are on your own, Con.”

  Constantine grinned at him. “And so are you, it seems. And so is the poor king.”

  * * *

  The royal carriage called for him at precisely 7:30. A liveried footman held the door and helped him in. “If there is anything you require, sir, you need only ask.”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  The carriage left him at the door of the Frederick II barracks. The plan was that he would meet Alex there, then the two of them would join the king in his private dining room for dinner. The footman held the carriage door again, and as Alex stepped out he told himself he could get used this kind of treatment. Then he caught himself. “What am I thinking? I’ll have to be careful.”

  Alex was waiting. His expression was that of a serious soldier, ready to do his duty. He was in his full-dress uniform, complete with plumed helmet.

  “What happens if you spill the soup on that?”

  “Then the staff will clean it. We are part of the royal household, Logan.”

  Wrong move. Logan wanted to be careful not to give either Alex or the king any opening that might lead to talk of him joining that royal household. “It looks like rain.”

  “If this were a wedding, that would be a lucky sign.”

  Logan frowned. “What happened to ‘this is just dinner, not a date’?”

  “Relax, Logan.”

  Another point to Alex. Logan decided to say as little as possible; that seemed safest.

  * * *

  The king’s personal dining room was a magnificent hall the size of a small train station. Heavy red velvet curtains covered all the windows, and a score of candelabras blazed with hundreds of candles. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with mirrored panels that reflected the candlelight so brilliantly it might have been broad daylight on a sunny afternoon. A table big enough to accommodate scores of diners ran the length of the room; at one end of it three place settings had been laid.

  The few stretches of wall that weren’t mirrored were hung with paintings. Logan took the opportunity to inspect them, while they were waiting for the king to appear.

  “Wow, this is a Vermeer! A real one, from the looks of it.”

  “Why do you look so surprised?”

  “There aren’t many Vermeers left in the world, and I thought they were all accounted for.”

  Alex was annoyed. “I know you think of Bulvania as being several cuts below backwoods Alabama, culturally, Logan. But we are part of Europe, and this is a European royal court. I would suggest you try to keep your disdain in check till you learn more about us. We have a lot of great art.”

  “I’ll have to check it out—if I’m here that long.” Touché. He had finally scored one in the conversation. Alex and his royal master had to understand that Logan was not to be taken for granted.

  From behind them came a voice. “Exactly how long will you be here?”

  Raymond had entered. A servant held the door for him, and he turned and waved the man out of the room. The king was in his usual monk’s robe; his hair and beard, also as usual, were unkempt. Standing alone in the enormous room, he looked quite small.

  Startled, Logan froze. Alex bowed to his monarch, and Raymond held up a hand to stop him. “There is no need to be so formal, Alex. We are friends. At least I hope we are.” He smiled at Logan, and it was a warm, winning smile. “Or should I say I hope that is what we will become?”

  Logan realized he didn’t know the proper etiquette for a situation like this. Should he bow? offer to shake hands? Mentally he cursed Constantine for not preparing him. He decided to bow, but only slightly. “Your—” Again he realized he wasn’t prepared. Should he address the king as highness, majesty or what?

  But Raymond flashed his sweet smile again. “Call me by my name. There’s no need to be formal at an informal dinner. And I hope I can call you Logan.”

  “Of course, your m—Raymond. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Raymond took his hand. “Likewise. Most definitely.” And as the novelists say, Raymond devoured Logan with his eyes. There was no doubt at all in Logan’s mind what the king had in mind.

  “Would you like a drink before dinner? I’m afraid I never drink alcohol myself, but if you would like a martini or some such… ”

  “Uh, no thank you, your m—Raymond.”

  “Then let’s sit and eat.”

  He led them to the table, took his place at the head, and gestured to Logan to sit on his right and Alex on his left. The plates and silverware appeared to be solid gold; Logan was suitably impressed—as he assumed he was supposed to be. Immediately they were seated, servants arrived and served soup. It was a delicious seafood bisque. After sipping it warily, Logan tucked in. “This is quite delicious.”

  “I’m afraid we didn’t know what you like. I hope everything will be equally pleasing to you.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  Alex spoke up. “I believe, your majesty, that Mr. Bockwein was expecting more formality.”

  Raymond glanced at the table, puzzled.

  “No, I mean what you’re wearing.”

  “Oh. Oh.” He looked at Logan, a bit shamefaced. “I hope you’re not offended. You’re wearing such a nice suit. I’m afraid I’m used to dressing like this. I’ve done it all my life. It’s quite comfortable, really. Besides, I’m told the people are already calling me ‘the priest-king,’ and I suppose I have to live up to my image. Grand Duke Rupert tells me it will help smooth the transition. But I really should have dressed for you. Please, excuse me.”

  Alex interrupted to explain who Duke Rupert was. “He and Raymond have become rather close in a very short period of time.”

  “Even though Rupert is quite elderly and unable to leave his tower, he’s become my valued adviser. Without him and Alex I’d be quite lost.” He smiled at Logan again and added, “I need good men around me.”

  For the first time Logan noticed Raymond’s eyes. They were large, a warm chocolate brown, and their warmth contrasted sharply with the rest of his unkempt appearance. He thought, Alex may be right. There may actually be some potential for this guy. But he shook the thought off. He more than suspected this date was a setup, and he couldn’t let himself be snared.

  Servants came and cleared away the soup. They were followed at once by more, carrying salads. Logan groped for conversation. But Raymond kept right on. “You’re a photographer.”

  “Yes. I’ve had some modest success, I guess. Some recognition.”

  “I looked you up on the internet. Your exhibition in Washington D.C. was a big success.”

  “We did pretty well, I guess. But what about you? If I Google you, what will I find?”

  “Nothing much.” Raymond’s manner turned shy. “I’ve had a few papers published, that’s all. Mostly on double stars and their mutual attraction. Do you like astronomy?”

  “I can’t honestly say I’ve ever given it much thought. The stars I like are more in the line of Judy Garland and Katharine Hepburn.”

  “Oh. I’m having an observatory built on the roof of the palace. I’d like you to come and see it sometime. I can show you wonderful things.”

  “I’d like that.” Logan was feeling increasingly
uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to finish eating, make his excuses and get out.

  The next course came, brook trout almandine.

  “I hope you like fish, Logan.”

  “Very much so.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” Raymond lightly put his hand on top of Logan’s, then pulled it away.

  Logan wasn’t at all sure how to interpret it. Raymond was setting off his gaydar, loud and strong; there was no doubt in his mind the king was gay—and interested. But he was such a—the word was unavoidable—nerd. Logan couldn’t even tell if the guy was aware of his own gayness. The touch of Raymond’s hand on his was warm and gentle. If felt good, much better than he’d expected. But then, he hadn’t expected there to be any physical contact at all.

  The door opened and one of the royal guards came in. He wasn’t anyone Logan had met before, but he had seen him once or twice around the barracks. The man bowed to Raymond, nodded to Logan, saluted Alex, then bent and whispered something in Alex’s ear.

  Alex folded his napkin. “Your majesty must excuse me. There’s a minor emergency in the barracks that has to be dealt with at once. Please excuse me.”

  “Of course, captain. If duty calls… ”

  Logan restrained himself from saying, “Very convenient duty.”

  Alex got to his feet, made apologies again to the king, then to Logan, and left with his man. Logan found himself alone with Raymond, and it was the last thing he wanted. He was sure Alex’s “emergency” had been pre-arranged. In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising, he supposed. And yet…

  He glared at Alex, then resumed the neutral expression he’d been wearing for Raymond. “Well, at least there will be more dessert for the two of us.” He smiled faintly, trying to put the best face on the situation.

  There was a moment’s awkward silence. Yes, the emergency that called Alex away had been pre-planned, and Raymond knew that Logan knew it. Finally, after a moment’s groping for something to say, “So, you are the ambassador’s son.”

  “Yes. There isn’t much I can do about it.”