The Virgin King

by John Michael Curlovich

  “Your majesty is most generous.” He felt foolish saying it, like he was a character in a silly old costume drama.

  Thankfully servants appeared and began serving the meal. The first course, the soup, was a delicious fish chowder, as was appropriate for a country in the sea. Next came a salad of greens and nuts garnished with goat cheese. The queen and the count made small talk; the bishop stayed mostly silent and ate. Logan interjected comments now and then, just to keep up his end. There was no sign of a point to the gathering. He kept wondering what on earth he was doing there.

  Wine was served with each course, and the three Bulvanians drank freely and heavily. Logan was careful not to drink too much; it might be the only advantage he had over them when they finally explained what was up.

  Finally, they got to the dessert—more nuts. The count and the queen and prattled and gossiped about this noble or that one. Did you hear that Baron So-and-so is sleeping with his cook? Did you know that Count What’s-his-name sniffs heroin? And on and on. Logan knew some of the people they were talking about but nowhere near all of them; he couldn’t have been more bored. Then the dishes from the last course were cleared away, the servants were dismissed and the three of them fixed their attention on Logan.

  Count Schlutow’s manner turned quite serious. “Well, Mr. Bockwein, how do you like living in Bulvania?”

  “It’s a fascinating country.” He chose his words carefully, diplomatically. Everyone at the embassy would have been proud. “I can’t say I’ve been bored even once since I came here.”

  “And our politics?” The queen put on a rigid, icy smile. “What do you make of them?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy acclimating myself to pay any attention to the political scene.”

  “Yet you have become friendly with our young king.” It was an accusation, not a question.

  Logan was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He wanted to make some excuse and get out. If only they’d give him an opening so he could leave without seeming blatantly rude. “I’m not certain ‘friendly’ is the right word. We have met, of course.” They had been spying on him, and there was no point denying anything. “Alex Borodenko, the guards’ commander, is a mutual friend.”

  “You must be aware,” the count went on, “that her majesty should rightfully have come to the throne. Raymond is a pretender, nothing more.” There was still a steak knife on the table; he picked it up and played with it.

  Logan would have given anything to be somewhere else. “The ins and outs of the Bulvanian royal succession are a subject I know nothing about. Didn’t the Privy Council—”

  “The Privy Council deprived me of my due!” The queen spoke softly but vehemently.

  Count Schlutow adopted a softer tone. “Apparently the sticking point for the council was the lack of a royal heir. If her majesty had mothered a child, she would be on the throne as regent now. And that is where you come in.”

  Logan had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming. “I? But I’m an American, not a Bulvanian. Our State Department would be most unhappy if I tried to get involved in your internal politics.”

  “You are already involved.” The count was serene. “You have become friendly with King Raymond.”

  “Friendship is one thing, politics is something else entirely. Besides, I barely know the king. We’ve had dinner together, that’s all. Once.”

  “We have reason to suspect,” the queen said softly, “that Raymond is a sodomite. Our informants from his monastery indicate that.”

  Logan didn’t respond. Hearing the word “sodomite” left him speechless. He couldn’t have been more startled if she’d pulled out a buggy whip, or if the count was wearing a celluloid collar.

  “There is a long history of that vice in his family,” she went on. “Even my own late husband… ”

  “Well,” Logan was slowly recovering, “sodomites do tend to be everywhere.”

  “Unfortunately.” The archbishop let the word hand heavily in the air. “You would be well advised to be careful around our young king, Mr. Bockwein. If you value your manhood, that is.”

  This was too weird. Telling them that he was a ‘sodomite’ himself seemed… inadvisable. Logan decided he had to get out. “Well, I really must be going. Thank you so much for the meal. Meeting you all has been a memorable experience.”

  “If you might give us just one more moment of your time… ” Count Schlutow put on a smug little grin. “We have a proposition for you.”

  “A—?”

  “Her majesty needs a son. It is that simple.”

  “And what does that have to do with me?”

  “Her majesty would like her son to be beautiful, intelligent and talented. She is beautiful. So the father must be intelligent and talented.” He paused heavily. “Like you.”

  Oh. It was exactly as he feared. There had to be some way to talk his way out of this and get the hell out of that palace. “But—but—isn’t this all a bit late? The king has already been crowned. What can be done?”

  “Kings,” said Theodora slowly, “are a disposable commodity. Once I have produced an heir to the throne, Raymond will be redundant. And eminently removable. Don’t look so astonished, Mr. Bockwein. There are a great many instances of monarchs whose reigns were brief. Lady Jane Grey was queen of England for a mere nine days before she was… shall we say, brushed aside.”

  She was saying too much. Count Schlutow interrupted the flow. “Once her majesty is with child, the Privy Council will vote to remove Raymond. He will be forced to abdicate and return to his monastery. That will be that.”

  “And if he doesn’t, er, abdicate… ?”

  “That will be dealt with in time.”

  Logan’s head was spinning. There was no doubt in his mind now that these people had been behind the death of the last king. How on earth could he get away from them? “But… but… but surely an heir would have to be of royal blood. An American father would hardly—”

  “That is irrelevant.” The count dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “The child will be royal.”

  “But the late king has been dead for months. People will never believe that the child is his.”

  “Before the king died, he placed a store of his semen in a sperm bank in Switzerland. The nation will be astonished to learn that Queen Theodora is pregnant with her late husband’s child. The Privy Council will not be able to ignore the presence of a genuine royal heir.”

  Logan was feeling more and more out of his depth. “But… then, what do you need me for?”

  The three of them stared at him, grinning like sharks, and didn’t say a word. It finally sank in. The sperm bank story was just that, a story.

  “Archbishop Defilippo will verify that he gave his blessing to the sperm bank scheme. No one will question the word of the head of the Church of Bulvania.”

  “I—I—I—” Logan realized he was stammering like a fool. He took a deep breath to recover. “If you don’t mind my asking, why should I go along with this? What on earth would it gain me?”

  Again, it was the count who answered. “Your father is trying to negotiate a deal for our tin. Whether he succeeds is entirely up to you.”

  Oh. Oh. So the success or failure of P.T.’s deal—and the American government’s plans—depended on Logan going along with this scheme to “remove” Raymond. Logan had to get away from these monsters. He jumped to his feet. “Well, you have certainly given me a lot to think about. But as I said, I really must be going now. Thank you again for this memorable lunch.”

  “Mr. Bockwein, please do not leave so hastily. You haven’t given us your answer.”

  “I need to think. You have sprung—er, proposed this quite unexpectedly. Really, I need time to think and explore all the ramifications.”

  Archbishop Defilippo leaned forward. “Think quickly, Mr. Bockwein. Our nation’s fate depends on you. As does a great deal else.”

  It was a threat. There was no mistaking it. If Logan decided not t
o belly with the queen… “I really must be going. It has been most remarkable meeting you all.” He bowed, fist to the queen, then to each of the two men, turned and got out as quickly as he could.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Someone had to be told. But who? The logical person was Alex, as head of a king’s security force. Logan made a beeline through the city to the palace.

  At the gate a young blond-haired private was on duty. He recognized Logan at once. Logan had a vague recollection that he was one of the straight guards. Could he be trusted? The queen and the count doubtless had spies everywhere, probably even in the American embassy. He made a mental note to mention that to Constantine, then smiled at the sentry. “Hello. I need to see Captain Borodenko. As quickly as possible.”

  The guard smiled an ingratiating smile. “I’m afraid he isn’t here, Mr. Bockwein. He’s out at the island for the day.”

  “The island? Count Schlutow’s island?”

  “No, sir. He and some of the men are out at Guardsman’s Island. You don’t know it?

  Logan stared blankly; this was the first he’d heard of the place. “No, I’m afraid—”

  “It’s about a half mile out in the sea, just opposite the mouth of the river. We go there for rest and recreation sometime.”

  “I see. How can I get out there? It’s important that I see Captain Borodenko as quickly as possible.”

  “Well, since you’re his friend… I can arrange for someone to take you out in one of the launches. If you’ll just be patient for a few moments while I make the arrangements… ”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The guard communicated with someone inside. There was a hushed conversation. Ten minutes later Logan was on his way to another dock on the river, accompanied by a guard private. There was a small fleet of launches waiting. The private gestured him into one, started the motor, and they were off.

  * * *

  The Black Sea was glassy smooth that day. The launch made quick time; the island came into view almost as soon as they left shore.

  Logan didn’t think he had seen this guardsman before. His name was Rodriguez. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve only been with the guards a few weeks. I’ve been in training.”

  Logan looked him up and down. He was young, fit, with a broad chest. His hair was brown and wavy and his eyes were deep blue. “You’ll fit in nicely.”

  “I already have, sir.” The twinkle in his eye told Logan everything he needed to know.

  “Somehow I knew it.” He changed topic. “Guardsmen’s Island is new to me.”

  “You’ll like it. It’s where we go to play.”

  “More so than the courtyard at the barracks?”

  Rodriguez smiled but said no more. Logan turned to watch the island as they approached. He could see a dozen or so men on the beach. Something very quickly dawned on him. “Good lord, everyone’s nude.”

  “You really are an American, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not shocked, just surprised. I had no idea.”

  “I didn’t think you were the shockable kind, sir.”

  “Trust me, I’m not.”

  Rodriguez slowed the launch and tethered it to the dock. Logan let his gaze take in the men, beautiful men, lazing nude on the sand. Most of them were naked; a few were in the briefest bikinis imaginable. Four of them were playing volleyball, exactly like the nudists in the stag films he used to sneak to when he was a boy—except that these players were so much sexier. A few feet up the beach there were thick shrubs, and some of them were moving, rustling. It wasn’t hard to guess what was going on among them.

  Alex was lying on the sand, quite naked; this was the first time Logan had seen him undressed, and his body was even better than he’d imagined. As the launch pulled in, he got to his feet and walked to the dock. “Logan. What on earth brings you out here?”

  Logan gave him a quick hug. “I hadn’t even heard about this place before. What have I been missing?”

  Alex laughed. “This is our haven for rest and recreation. We don’t normally permit anyone else to visit here. Not even beautiful American men. But the palace called and said this was urgent. What brings you out here?”

  “We have to talk, Alex. I had a… well, let’s just say I have news. Can we talk somewhere private?”

  “You’re serious? You’re not just here for… ?” He gestured at a group of naked men.

  “Deadly serious, I’m afraid.”

  “Then let’s walk down the beach away. No one will hear us.”

  After they had gone a few feet a young guard came running out of the bushes, stark naked and sporting an enormous hardon. He smiled self-consciously and ran off to join the others. A moment later a second guy came out of the same shrubs, likewise naked, likewise erect. Logan couldn’t resist. “No wonder you come out here.”

  Alex chuckled. “King Raymond XXVII, the one they called Raymond the Mad, willed this island to the guards, I think because it was too small to be of any real use to anyone. It’s been our playground for a hundred years. There used to be nude beaches on the mainland, but the church put a stop to that, so… ” He spread his hands in a gesture to show that the rest of the story was obvious.

  By now they were a good way down the shore, out of earshot of everyone else.

  Alex turned to face Logan. He was grinning like a mischievous schoolboy. “So, how was your lunch with the queen and the churchman?”

  “You knew about that?” Logan couldn’t hide his astonishment.

  “We’re responsible for the king’s security. We know who his enemies are and what they’re up to, at least to the best of our ability.”

  “I didn’t know I was one of the king’s enemies.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Logan. You know who I mean.”

  Logan looked around and lowered his voice. “Alex, they mean to kill him.”

  He shrugged. “What else is new? I’m surprised you care. He looks like something the cat had in the alley, remember?”

  “For God’s sake, I don’t want to see him dead. It’s just that I—Well, I find myself feeling protective of him now. Knowing that they plan to—”

  “He said you kept looking into his eyes. And they are very nice eyes. My Raymond… But seriously, there’s not much they can do. We’re keeping a very close watch on him. After what they did to the last king… ” His eyes momentarily got a sad, faraway look. He quickly snapped out of it. “Besides, there’s not much they can do in the short term. Raymond’s leaving for Paris tomorrow.”

  “Paris? What on earth for?”

  “It’s tradition. And not just here. New kings go out and present themselves to the world.

  “Well… I guess he’ll be safe there. If you keep him out of the sex clubs, that is.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. He may not even know that there is such a thing.”

  “Good. Preserving his innocence… well, it’s probably worth doing, that’s all.”

  “Is this the worldly American talking?”

  Logan laughed. “Has… has a Bulvanian king ever really been assassinated? Before your Raymond, that is.”

  “Raymond XXXIV was killed by anarchists. They used an exploding cuckoo clock. But that was in 1914. It happened on the same day the Austrian archduke was assassinated, the event that started World War I. So no one noticed about Raymond except us here in Bulvania.”

  “And exactly how mad is Theodora? Has there ever been a ruling queen here? I mean, in a country so heavy on tradition… ”

  “There’s a legend of a Queen Raymonda in the Middle Ages. She murdered her husband and took power. It’s only a legend, but it seems to be what drives this queen today.”

  Logan told him about the sperm bank plan. “So she’s at least crazy enough to think the Privy Council will fall for it.”

  “They don’t have to believe it.” Alex’s mood turned more serious. “As long as they think it will give them a plausible pretext… We’re going to hav
e to do what we can to get Raymond firmly established on the throne as quickly as possible. Having him recognized by the French will help. So would America. If you and your father can somehow get the U.S. government to engage Raymond formally… You’ve already presented your credentials to him. That constitutes recognition. But if you can get your government to do something more… ”

  “I’ll talk it over with dad and see what we can come up with. A treaty for exploitation of the tin lode might be the ticket. I know dad will put that on the fastest track he can.”

  “Good. Broach the subject with him. Can we trust him to be as discreet as possible?”

  “You don’t get to be a success in corporate America if you can’t keep a secret, Alex.”

  “Excellent. We’ll be counting on you. I knew you’d like Raymond when you got to know him.”

  “Don’t get carried away. I like him, yes. And I sure don’t want to see him dead. But that’s as far as it goes. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” He said it with a twinkle in his eye. “But remember, patience is a virtue. He may turn out to be the kind of man you like yet. It’s still early in the game.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I believe you know I’m leaving for France in the morning. But I had to thank you before I leave.”

  Logan was at the palace, having dinner with Raymond a second time. He had been summoned again; he wasn’t at all certain why. But it turned out that Alex had told the king about Logan’s warning. And Raymond was moved.

  “It seems incredible to me. I’ve been here such a short time. How can they hate me so?”

  Logan had brought a hearty appetite, and the food was delicious. “It’s politics, Raymond. There’s an old saying in America: ‘Politics isn’t beanbag.’ I grew up in Washington D.C., so it seems quite natural to me. Inevitable, even.”

  “Politics is one thing. But murder, Logan? Really?”

  Logan looked at him across the table. And the king seemed very small and very defenseless to him. He wondered why he’d never noticed before. And then there were Raymond’s eyes, those large, expressive pools of chocolate that said so much more than he ever did with his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much he should say, how much of reality Raymond was ready to face. “Not murder, Raymond, assassination. There is a difference. Murderers are small and insignificant criminals. They are lost to history sooner rather than later. But assassins… ”