The Virgin King

by John Michael Curlovich

  Logan took him by the shoulders and kissed him. He whispered, “Raymond von Flausenthurm, I love you.”

  “Well, it’s about time you realized it. Everyone else seems to have known it for months.”

  “Shut up and fuck me.”

  And still another time they made love. In the middle of it, Logan leaned against the control that rotated the observatory dome. The sky spun about them as they kissed, and all the stars seemed to wink down at them.

  * * *

  Seeing “the royal couple” together brightened Alex’s mood. He began to throw off his mourning. Watching the two of them together, he seemed to be seeing himself and his departed lover, or what they might have been in time. Bringing Raymond and Logan together gave him more satisfaction than anything had since the loss of his own King Raymond.

  The three of them, Raymond, Logan and Alex formed a conspiratorial little group, planning to move Bulvania into the modern world, “even if,” as Alex said, “we have to drag it kicking and screaming.” There would be changes, big changes, social, cultural and political. It would be tricky; overcoming the mad devotion to tradition would take careful planning and timing. First the groundwork had to be laid, with Bockwein Tin & Zinc, Inc. and even with St. Dymphna’s.

  * * *

  Nights, they slept in the king’s bed or in Duke Rupert’s. Both were large enough for their most acrobatic copulation. And their sex grew more and more intense.

  Finally, one night Logan couldn’t hold his love inside anymore. He had to say it. “Raymond, I want to be with you forever. Come with me to one of the countries where we can get married.”

  To Logan’s surprise—and alarm—Raymond stiffened. In a perfectly serious tone he said, “Logan Bockwein, you have to know that that is not at all proper.”

  “Oh.” Logan’s heart sank.

  Then Raymond burst out laughing. “I’m the king, remember. Protocol. The proper thing is for me to ask you. But not in Belgium of the Netherlands or anywhere else but Bulvania. This is my country—our country. We will move it where it needs to go. And it will be ours more than ever.”

  The first step in their master plan was to build and consolidate public support behind the new king. And for that they needed P.T. Bockwein.

  Chapter Thirty

  Four months into his reign, Raymond hadn’t yet done anything significant, no actions beyond Rupert’s funeral, no public declarations, no pronouncements or edicts. The new king was still an unknown quantity in the minds of his people. Here and there pockets of grumbling erupted, almost all of them fueled by agents of Queen Theodora and her allies. Why had Raymond remained shut up in the palace? Did he think the entire nation was a cloister?

  So when it was announced the he would address the nation from the steps of the Cathedral of St. Zephyrinus, curiosity was high, and expectations that he would say something significant were even higher.

  Archbishop Defilippo balked at letting Raymond use the cathedral for this, but the king was the king, and tradition dictated the he was, after all, the head of the Church of Bulvania. Raymond put his foot down, and there was nothing the archbishop could do.

  * * *

  On the day of the announcement, thousands crowded the square in front of the cathedral; it was almost as large a crowd as there had been on coronation day. Expectations were… not exactly high, since no one quite knew what to expect of the new king; but the mood was festive and anticipatory.

  Raymond took his place, flanked by two rows of Royal Guards in dress uniforms. At his side was Alex, also in dress uniform of course.

  There was a general look of puzzlement in the crowd. Who was this astonishingly handsome young man at the head of the steps? And where was King Raymond? Then he spoke. “People of Bulvania, I know my appearance must startle you. I apologize for my former lack of polish. I am your proud, contented king, Raymond XL.”

  There was a pause, filled by loud gasps from the crowd. Then, quite spontaneously, they broke into loud applause and cheers. Girls and young men screamed as if they were at a rock concert. It was a miracle! Their scruffy, monkish ugly duckling of a king had become a magnificent swan.

  Alex whispered to Raymond, “So far, so good.”

  Raymond gestured to Logan and P.T., who were waiting at the foot of the steps. They ascended, stood on either side of him, and he introduced them to the people. “Ambassador Bockwein, in addition to being the representative of the United States, is the chairman of Bockwein Tin & Zinc, Inc. I am pleased to tell you that their engineers, working with our own, have verified an enormous deposit of tin in the Bulvanian Alps—the third largest in the world. This very day we have formalized an agreement with Bockwein Tin & Zinc. They will provide the mining expertise to exploit his natural treasure, and Bulvania will become a much wealthier nation as a result.

  “Moreover, building and operating the mines will require some 2,000 workers. Under the terms of our agreement, 90% of them will be native Bulvanians. These jobs will last for many years, perhaps longer than all our lifetimes. Economic stability and a place on the world economic stage are within sight.”

  Again, the crowd cheered, even louder and more boisterously than before. Raymond waited patiently for the uproar to die down, then went on. “Part of our agreement with Bockwein, Inc., is cultural in nature. Bulvania’s cultural riches have been kept hidden far too long. In our palace alone we have a treasure trove of great art—works by Vermeer, Rembrandt, Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso, Matisse and a great many more. And Grand Duke Rupert, in his many years in Paris, acquired a large collection of works by twentieth century masters—Picasso, Matisse, Renoir and the others, many of whom he knew personally. As part of our agreement, Bockwein, Inc. has agreed to underwrite the construction of a new, state-of-the-art museum. In addition to our own art masterpieces, the monastery of St. Dymphna is home to a vast store of medieval illuminated manuscripts, which they have agreed to have placed on display in the new museum. Bulvania’s art treasures will be made available to scholars and connoisseurs from around the world. We expect tourism to boom, which will further drive economic growth.

  “I am happy to introduce to you Mr. Logan Bockwein, who has generously agreed to curate the museum’s collection.”

  The cheers and applause were deafening, and they went on for what seemed hours. If everything went according to plan—and there was no reason to think it wouldn’t—Raymond’s popularity with his people was assured. Queen Theodora and her allies had been rendered quite effectively irrelevant. Now it was just a matter of waiting for everything to ripen.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  There was only one serious disagreement between Raymond and Logan: Raymond preferred the bed in Duke Rupert’s tower, while Logan liked the one in the king’s bedroom better. Every evening they bickered about where to sleep. Then finally they reached a compromise and alternated. Logan laughed about their agreement. “Constantine keeps telling me I’m no diplomat. That’ll show him.”

  Their lovemaking became more and more intense and they fell deeper and deeper in love. They tried every known position and every known variety of sex, and they invented several new ones. And the uses they found for Raymond’s scepter… !

  There was one particular spot at the nape of Raymond’s neck; when Logan touched it with the tip of his tongue, it drove the king mad with desire. And it never failed. “King, schming,” Logan joked. “I’ve got the upper hand.”

  “One of my few memories of my mother,” Raymond told him solemnly, “is of her reading Alice in Wonderland to me. I still remember her impersonating the Queen of Hearts. ‘Off with his head!’ Don’t make me imitate her.”

  Everything about them was compatible, their sexual tastes, their humor, their taste in art… Everyone around the palace began talking about them as ‘the royal couple.’ The more conservative nobles and churchmen in Bulvania were scandalized by the openness of their love.

  But the people adored them, and that was what mattered. In the months since Raymond’s a
nnouncement, work had started on the tin mines. Dozens of Bulvanians had been hired, at very good salaries, with the sure promise of hundreds more to come. An international design competition had produced a design for the new Royal Bulvanian Art Museum. The design was by a prominent American architect, an old acquaintance of Logan. “He’s gay, of course,” he told Raymond.

  The king was wry. “All the best architects are.”

  “You’re learning fast.”

  “I owe that to my country.”

  When Raymond announced plans to create a democratic Parliament and to cede part of his royal power to it, his popular support soared even higher—and solidified. The queen and her allies were powerless to dethrone him. The only option left to them was violence, so Alex recruited more men to the Royal Guard and stepped up security. Raymond’s position was safe.

  * * *

  Then came the day of the final big announcement. Once again Raymond took over the cathedral. A detachment of the guards surrounded him and kept their eyes peeled for possible assassins.

  Raymond took his place at the top of the cathedral steps, with Logan at his side. Archbishop Defilippo, angry at being stymied in all his plans, refused to appear with them. The king wasn’t even slightly deterred.

  “People of Bulvania,” he began his speech. “In the name of our beloved country, I have decided it is time for us to join the great nations of Europe in their ongoing quest for democracy and equality. Therefore, effective three months from today, Bulvania will legalize gay marriage.”

  The crowd was caught off-guard; no one seemed at all sure how to react. Then scattered pockets of applause broke out among the younger Bulvanians, followed by more and more. In a few moments most of the crowd was cheering.

  “And I am pleased to tell you,” Raymond went on, happy at the reception so far, “that the first gay marriage to be performed here will be between myself and Mr. Logan Bockwein. Bulvania will see the first gay royal wedding in Europe—in all the world!”

  Again. the crowd seemed unsure how to respond. But again, led by the young people, scattered applause broke out, followed by more and more. In very short order the roar was almost deafening. The people’s approval of their new king—and their outright love for him—was cemented.

  He caught hold of Logan by the shoulders, pulled him to himself and kissed him. The crowd thundered with cheers and ecstatic shouts. Suddenly, spontaneously, everyone broke into the national Anthem, “For the Greater Glory of Bulvania.” Couples embraced. More couples kissed. It was an unplanned but wildly exuberant celebration.

  At the top of the steps, Logan and Raymond’s kiss lasted longer and longer and longer. Their embrace grew tighter and tighter. The crowd’s energy and love seemed to fuel their passion. They had never kissed so deeply or so passionately.

  Bulvania was ready for the future. And it seemed like the whole world was too.

  About the Author

  John Michael Curlovich is a freelance writer based in Pittsburgh. His gay-themed fiction includes the dark fantasy Blood of Kings series: The Blood of Kings and Blood Prophet, both to be reissued by Riverdale Avenue Books along with a new title, Blood Music; his short story “Reflections on Death,” a part of that mythos, is included in Riverdale’s The Morris-Jumel Mansion Anthology of Fantasy and Paranormal Fiction. He is also the author of the acclaimed gay-themed Arthurian fantasy Mordred and the King and Loves of the Argonauts, a gay retelling of Greek mythology. Additionally he has published fiction in a number of other genres including horror (as “Michael Paine”), mystery (as “J.M.C. Blair”), and erotica (“Jon Jockel”).

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