He thought about this for a moment. “Perhaps that would be best. I didn’t want to learn to swim, but when I was three, Johan picked me up and threw me into the sea off the harbor wall where it was very deep. I swam or I drowned. And when I saved Faelan from the ocean, I was very glad that he had done so. Although, I admit, he was not in my favor for many weeks after the incident.”
I rolled off and lay alongside him, contemplating the tapestry cover above our heads. “Have you just likened me entering you to nearly drowning?”
“I think drowning would be a very good way to go. I am already drowning in my desire for you.” Suddenly he roused himself a little from this gloomy introspection and slapped me playfully. “But is this not good as well? We have never had such comfort, and I am very eager to see how it feels to sleep entangled with you. I hope you notice and appreciate that I have banned Faelan from our bedchamber tonight, so that you might have me all to yourself.”
We climbed under the covers and moved together as if we were familiar bedfellows, which we were not. Even when sharing a tent for so long on the march, we had always had separate uncomfortable cots. This was indeed very comfortable. Both naked, we soon warmed the cold bed just from lying twisted together. I could feel the effects of the food and wine and the long day working upon me. I think Aleksey was already asleep. He always slept extremely quietly and without moving at all. He said he did not dream, which I did not believe. How could a man not dream? My sleep was always full of events and thoughts, and sometimes I woke having conversations upon incredibly interesting subjects that I could not remember once my eyes had opened. How could he sleep so now, though, when this was so novel? I did not think I would ever be able to sleep when I had such perfection: a head upon my chest; a warm, lithe body in my arms; a thigh bent up and heavy on my legs; and feet entwined with mine. It took me back to the huddle of warm bodies lulling me to sleep as a child. I had lost my whole world then but gained another.
What world would I not sacrifice to keep this new one here and by my side?
CHAPTER 23
I COULD tell that our dilemma was on Aleksey’s mind when he woke the next day. He was curious, wanting to explore. All that he did told me he was thinking about my desires. I made it easier for him by not pushing his decision, letting him do what he wanted to my body, other than the obvious, which I would not allow. It accustomed him to the idea that anything between us was acceptable, that in this, we were entirely equals. Who had to come down off the podium of belief in his superiority and accept this equality was still open for debate, however. I, naturally, felt that I was the leader between us. He clearly thought that his superior rank and position meant superiority in all things, including me. We did not have much time, unfortunately, for I had a lot of things I wanted to do with and to Aleksey, but we had woken late and could already hear commotion outside the villa. A huge parade was planned. As fascinating as my body was, it could not apparently compete with the opportunity to ride at the head of his army, wearing his new shiny medals in front of his father, the king. I could hardly blame him. As fascinating as his body was, I too wanted to be at the parade, to watch him wearing his shiny new medals, riding at the head of his army. The king I could take or leave.
So, reluctantly, we had to leave our bed before anything sinful could take place—unless intent and thought were now sins, which knowing the Christian God, they probably were. In some ways this was good, for although we both had trouble squeezing into our breeches, the heightened excitement of our bodies mingled with anticipation for the day. By the time Aleksey rode into camp, his mood energized everyone. Even pennants that had drooped seemed to stiffen and flutter to life. I thought Aleksey was having a bad effect upon me. I chastised myself and tried to keep the grin off my face. I was not known as the sort of man who grinned at anything, and this insane happiness would give us both away. But Aleksey was addictive. I had sampled his sweet opiate and knew I was already as one lost.
I had plenty of time to consider our problem as we lined up in our various ranks and orders to be paraded in front of His Majesty. I could not wholly blame Aleksey for his decision. As I watched him then, resplendent, respected, a leader of men, he would not look to anyone considering this like a man who took another’s cock inside him willingly. Of course, I knew that this was foolish. I knew that men who liked men came in all shapes and sizes, and in places where you least expected them. I had known the fiercest warriors who would lie beneath a mere boy, for only in the willing surrender of power did you discover the true strength that lay within you. Aleksey had a lot of power, but he would find more in the surrender of it willingly. I could not teach him this, however. He needed to discover it for himself, and quite how I was to help him do that was a mystery to me. I had never had to coax another man onto my cock before. I had never even had to try.
The parade was to begin in the fields where we were camped and then move slowly through the city past the great citadel. A grandstand had been hastily erected on the steps of this edifice for the prominent citizens of Saxefalia to witness their new prince presenting the colors. After this, they had prepared a feast in honor of the great, victorious army (to which only officers were invited, I noted) and then a tournament: more swordplay, more thrusts with lances and mock battles. You would think they had had enough by this time. Finally the formal ceremony of investiture would take place in the cathedral, where the king of Hesse-Davia would crown his eldest son Prince of Saxefalia.
I was to ride with the cavalry and had exchanged my white armband for their royal blue one. Aleksey had insisted that I not paint my face or ride seminaked, which I had threatened to do. I did, however, paint a white handprint upon Xavier’s rump. It looked well there, and if called upon it, I would claim it was accidental dust. I had also awarded him his own medal, which he wore hanging off his bridle against regulations. I felt he had earned it. He had killed as many of the enemy as I in the war.
For the first time, clipping along with my fellow officers in the parade, I had the sense that the sun now singled me out for special favor. All light bent and bowed to me, and everything about me seemed intensified—the shine of Xavier’s coat, the bounce of his mane, the feel of power and health and strength in my body.
We reached the city gates, and sounds intensified, hundreds of hooves on cobbles, tiny sparks flying when they slipped, soft whinnying and muttered reassurances, and then the bugles sounded as the head of the parade reached the grandstand. I could not see it yet, but all cynicism about this day vanished on that clarion call. It was a call to arms, to brotherhood, to fealty. I wanted to see the king, wanted to see the pleasure on his face at this great victory. I was even willing to see Prince George—he was presenting the colors, and I wanted to see them.
I was about twenty feet from the grandstand, only catching the occasional glimpse as I bobbed up and down on Xavier’s back, and that only from my superior height, when I heard a creak. I took no notice, as I was admiring the king, who looked quite hale and hearty, which I was glad to observe. He had been my first success in this venture, the war the second. I only had my conquest of Aleksey to go, and my journey to this benighted land would be entirely worthwhile. I was thinking I might put it to the prince in these terms—that he would be my third victory—and see if it helped his decision to acquiesce, when I heard the creak again, only much louder this time. Loud enough to make several of the officers rise in their stirrups to observe the ranks for misconduct. Horses, in my experience, didn’t creak, so I continued thinking my own pleasant thoughts, hearing Aleksey’s outrage at being termed my conquest and picturing our subsequent fight and fall into the tub—which inevitably ended with him sitting on more than my lap this time. I was too engrossed in this, shifting slightly in the saddle, to be interested in the shout that went up from the front of the line.
I could not ignore the scream.
By now I had a full view of the grandstand and wondered for a moment if I had slipped upon Xavier’s back and was viewin
g the world skewwhiff, until I realized that it was the grandstand—it was slumped to one side. As I watched, fascinated, it swayed and slumped back the other way. Suddenly, like a jellied dish wobbled by a careless servant, the whole edifice began to tremble left to right.
It was wondrous for a moment, until it crashed to the ground, taking king, princes, courtiers, ladies, and servants tumbling to the steps of the citadel under the planks and girders and hastily erected canopies.
There was pandemonium. Sometimes fewer people rushing to a rescue is better than many. The king had his whole army there to rush to help, and rush they did, horses, officers, and soldiers. They fell about each other. They tangled up on the debris. Horses slipped on the cobbles and fell, their riders pinned beneath and helpless. No one took command, for no one could be heard over the screaming and shouting.
I found Aleksey. I think my entire life at that time was devoted wholly to the finding and preservation of that one young man. He was also struggling to reach the collapsed structure. I held him back. I would let the entire world be crushed if I could keep Aleksey safe. Besides, I wasn’t about to be any kind of hero and save the day by dint of a clever suggestion. I had absolutely no idea what we should do, but rushing headlong into such a place of extreme danger was not going to happen. Surprisingly, Aleksey did not fight me. I think that was the second time I saw the new maturity that battle had forged in him. The old Aleksey would have kicked and struggled at my restraint, his desperate desire to help his father outweighing his more rational judgment.
Now, though, he nodded at me and shouted into my ear, “We must try to approach it from above, from inside the citadel.” I nodded that I had understood, and we forced our way through the crowd away from the melee toward a side alley. I was very glad to get Xavier away from the scrum, for he was nervous and jittery and could not tell that this was not another time when he should do some killing. Perhaps he saw another medal in the offing. I fastened him and Aleksey’s warhorse to a secure pillar, and we ran up into the building from a side entrance. Once again, I was amazed by the wealth of this city. I had seen nothing in Hesse-Davia to compare to this grand palace, but I had no time to admire more than the frescos and high ceilings before we emerged onto the steps upon which the catastrophe had occurred. Now we could see the true nature of the disaster.
The structure had been more than thirty feet high and built to hold over a hundred people. It probably would have been secure erected in a field, where its weight could have sunk it into the ground. But here on the marble steps of this great building, the weight of people and the movement when they stood to cheer us past had caused it to sway rather than sink. Once the sway started, nothing could stop it. Like a house built of cards on a rickety table, it had fallen, tier upon tier upon tier. Unfortunately, the king had been in the front and bottom row of seating. He had taken the tier upon tier directly upon his head.
The king was dead. I didn’t need to be a doctor to see this. He had been crushed beyond hope of revival. The old man had already been pulled from the wreckage and laid on a cloak on the steps. Aleksey sat alongside him, not showing any emotion, as befitted his position. I was showing more emotion than he, for I had worked hard to save his father. His broken body reminded me how fragile our hold upon life was, and I felt that great fear that all men must feel at such a time—that I was closer somehow to the losing of all things. I wanted to drag Aleksey away from this place, wrap him up in my arms, and prevent any harm ever coming to him. Irrational fears must be subdued, and I thought mine were irrational.
Prince George could not be found. At first the cry went up that he had not been at the parade, that he was spared. This was not true. I had seen him for myself sitting next to his father, but I did not point this out to anyone. It was the sort of comment that was remembered after an event, and accusations, ridiculous in nature, could be cast at a man when merely truthful words become prophetic.
They found George an hour or so later. Covered by many other bodies, he had been laid to one side with prominent citizens of Saxefalia and not recognized until the final tally was taken. Then there was universal wailing and gnashing of Hesse-Davian teeth, to be sure. Suddenly Aleksey was dragged from his sad vigil by his father’s body. Not literally, of course. You don’t drag a king anywhere. And that is what Aleksey now was: King Christian X of Hesse-Davia.
This changed a great number of things for Aleksey and, by association, for me.
CHAPTER 24
THE FIRST great change was that Aleksey could no longer be head of the army. It was too dangerous a position for a king. I don’t think he cared one way or the other those first few days. He was in shock and grieving dreadfully. He had genuinely loved his father, but it was more than that, I think. His father had died celebrating Aleksey’s first great triumph, and I think this tainted the whole achievement for him as well as, of course, his ascension to the throne. I had not considered it before, but many such kings and queens in history must have ascended, grief-stricken, to rule upon the death of beloved parents. Perhaps not. Perhaps Aleksey had been freed to love his father by being the second son, and thus out of the shadow of expectation. Who could expect that he would jump two chairs at the dining table at once? Poor King Christian, his shiny medals, of which he had been so proud, were now trinkets that only reminded him of death.
For the first few days after the disaster, I was not sure how the old king’s death and Aleksey’s consequent rise would affect our tentative relationship. Selfishly, I thought the deaths very inconvenient, for I would not have blamed Aleksey if he turned away from me. After all, he was a Christian (here I have to add that all the augurs were predicting a reign favored by God from the advantageous juxtaposition of Aleksey’s name with the fact that he was the tenth such king to rule Hesse-Davia. A cross after his name doubly spoke of his piety, apparently), and Christians always liked to take blame and look for fault and make amends to a God who to me seemed utterly indifferent to what men do or say. I expected him to tell me that our sin had killed his father, or that he needed to make penance for sin and give me up. Or worse, that he must now fulfill his God-given role of king and put such sin and temptation behind him.
Aleksey did none of these things. He looked to me as his friend, his support, his guide, and his counsel. That was the moment he turned from Johan to me, and I took on all the roles that man had played in his life. He saw far less of Johan anyway, as he was no longer a general but a king.
Quite what his new duties entailed neither of us knew.
I spent the whole of that first day helping the victims of the great collapse, as this event came to be known. Rumor was flying around, of course, that the Saxefalians had taken a final and very effective revenge by deliberately sabotaging the grandstand. Their builders had erected it, after all, but a number of very prominent citizens of their city had been seated with the king and died alongside him, so I doubted this theory myself. Forty-three people died in the collapse and sixteen in the melee that had ensued to rescue the fallen. Over thirty people were so badly injured that their days were numbered in my view. Half a dozen were injured—lost a limb or an eye—but would recover. A handful escaped without a scratch, and one of those had been sitting right behind the king. Life was very tenuous, when all was said and done. That night, King Gregor’s body was laid in state with his eldest son. The king could not, of course, be buried in Saxefalia. He had to lie with his forebears. I found this idea quite affecting and remembered an old man standing on a beach discussing a long-dead king with me. Neither Gregor nor Canute had been able to stop tide or death.
I had assumed the army that had marched into Saxefalia and won such a great victory would now became the escort for the dead king back to his own land, his bearers to the next life. It would be a long, sad funeral train, and I saw it in my mind’s eye: new black cavalry uniforms on handpicked officers, black mounts against the snowy white landscape. Aleksey, of course, would accompany his father. It was the first duty he would perform
as king.
Unfortunately, I had let my imagination run away with me, thinking about Aleksey all decked out in black and riding sadly but bravely in front of the slow march. The old king and his son were going home by boat. The flagship of the Hesse-Davian navy was summoned to carry them. Gregor was to sail home as his forebears might once have come upon the shores of Hesse-Davia. This was all very well, but it put something of a damper on my plans to accompany Aleksey.
Gangplanks were still gangplanks, even on flagships, and I could not cross one. Not only would I be assailed by my old affliction, this unmanning would then be witnessed by the whole of Hesse-Davia—well, the one part of that country that mattered to me. Aleksey.
He knew nothing of my dilemma, and I wanted to keep it that way. As far as he was concerned, I’d been very close to leaving by ship many times—indeed, I had threatened it on more than one occasion when annoyed with him or sulking, or when I wanted to bring his attention back to me. I had never intended sailing back to England, but now I was regretting my impulsive, disingenuous declarations.
I could not even step aboard a ship to steal medical supplies while it was fastened sure to a dock. My day crossing of the Channel had been fraught with horror, and I had huddled sick upon the deck, not from the movement of the sea but from the memories the ship conjured.
How would I fare on a voyage of some weeks?
I spoke nothing of my fears to Aleksey at first. He was overwhelmed enough with his new role without me adding to his worries. It was a great change to go from second son to king in one moment. Everything had changed. He had been in many ways a very free agent before now. He’d come and gone and run around, pretty much doing as he liked for twenty-three years, but now he was surrounded by people day and night. He was Hesse-Davia. Ministers, counselors, priests, and servants—he was constantly at the center of a scrum of people seeking approval, decision, command. Our blossoming intimacy had come to a rather abrupt end—the physical side anyway. Emotionally, we became closer than ever during those few days, waiting for the return to Hesse-Davia.
A Royal Affair Page 22