“The problem is,” Hemarchidas said, “that you are doing it wrong.”
Anaxantis passed the wine flask.
“Could you show me?”
Hemarchidas took a swig and stood up.
“Come,” he said, “take your sword.”
When Anaxantis had done so Hemarchidas stood behind him, took his hands and positioned them on the hilt.
“First, place your right hand as closely to the hilt as you can, like this, and use your left hand to stabilize your weapon. When you deliver the blow, don't just use the muscles of your arm, as you were doing, but put your shoulders and your back into it.”
Anaxantis did so and hacked into the tree.
“See,” Hemarchidas said, satisfied, “that's a lot better. Training your muscles is good, but you also have to know how to handle your sword, where to strike... a lot of things really.”
“Could you teach me?” Anaxantis asked eagerly.
“To tell the truth, I am not that good myself, but a friend of mine is. I could ask him. We've got nothing much to do in the afternoons, and he is bored. I think he might welcome the distraction. Are you here every afternoon? Tomorrow?”
Hemarchidas hoped he didn't sound too eager. After he had confirmed that he would be there the next day, Anaxantis resumed his exercises while Hemarchidas looked on.
“You can tell he hasn't had much training, but you have to admire his determination to improve,” Hemarchidas thought. “What a strange boy. Cavalry. I would have thought he was more of a page or a varlet to some higher officer. His father bought his commission probably. The first of the family to see military service most likely. He's fine boned, but he seems tough. And he is absolutely gorgeous.”
After half an hour Anaxantis sank down beneath the tree, breathing heavily and sweating.
“By the Gods,” Hemarchidas laughed, “you smell like ass.”
Anaxantis sniffed under his arms and grinned.
“Yes, I do, don't I? Not used to all this exertion, I'm afraid. Of course, you, having sat on your backside all the time, smell like roses.”
“You impertinent little devil,” Hemarchidas smiled and wrestled him down.
Anaxantis was no match for the well trained Cheridonian.
“We should find you someone who can teach you a few hand to hand combat techniques,” Hemarchidas said pensively. “A ten year old Mukthar could take you.”
The banter and teasing went on for a while. Anaxantis had the time of his life. Never before had he been able to hang around so freely with someone of his own age group who treated him as just another guy.
“I think I made my first friend,” he reflected happily. “So, that's what I've been missing all these years.”
He looked at Hemarchidas. Somewhat taller than himself, black, half long hair and a light olive colored skin, with long, supple legs and strong arms. A pleasant face with an easy smile. Hemarchidas felt him stare.
“What?” he said smiling timidly.
“I wish I had your muscles,” Anaxantis sighed.
“A few weeks of hard training and you should be all right, little one. Of course, you will never have my muscles.” he mocked.
“Just wait and see,” Anaxantis said in the same vein, “the day will come that I throw you to the ground without having to think twice about it.”
“Ha, I'd like to see that. You and which army?”
“Yes,” Anaxantis thought, “a very good question. Me and which army?”
“Don't come too near,” Anaxantis smirked at Ehandar when he entered their room. “I smell like ass.”
“In which gutter have you picked up that charming barracks expression?” Ehandar smiled.
“Someone I met in the woods today used it,” Anaxantis replied while he took off his mantle, tunic and sword.
He went to the bathroom, but left the door open. Ehandar took this as an open invitation to go in after him.
“You had your guard with you, I hope,” he said concerned.
“No, as a matter of fact, I needed some time on my own,” Anaxantis answered while undressing.
He put a wooden plug in an opening in the bottom of the stone bath and pulled another plug out of the wall. Immediately fresh water from a bifurcation of the aqueduct began to stream into the tub, and he stepped into it. While he washed up he told Ehandar, who stood leaning against the door post, what had happened that afternoon.
“That's dangerous, Anaxantis,” Ehandar said worriedly. “That Cheridonian could have been anybody. I told you why we have to be cautious. He could very well be an agent of Portonas.”
“Oh, I swear, Ehandar, you're worse than mother,” Anaxantis smiled. “Not everybody is out to get us.”
“Still... I don't like it very much. And if you needed practice in sword fighting, why didn't you ask me? I'm considered to be rather good, you know,” Ehandar said with an undertone of hurt in his voice.
Anaxantis looked up and studied his face. Then he laughed.
“Ehandar, by the Gods, you're jealous,” he chuckled.
“Am not. I just want you to be safe.”
“O, come here and help me dry off. You've nothing to be jealous about. It's just that I never had friends, and it was fun to forget for a while that I am a prince and a governor and what not.”
“Yes, I can understand that,” Ehandar thought while he dried Anaxantis off. “The poor guy was always surrounded by people who were paid to keep him company and I haven't been a big help either. Maybe it's a good thing for him to get some friends his own age. Let's just hope that's all they'll turn out to be. Friends.”
“Alright,” he said indulgently, “have your little band of friends, but see to it that you don't overdo it. The dizzy spells may have stayed away for a while now, but we don't know if you're really cured. There is a famous doctor in Dermolhea. I'm going to summon him here and let him examine you. If you don't mind.”
Anaxantis put his arms around him and pressed his naked body against Ehandar.
“No, I don't mind,” he said. “In fact I think it is a good idea. And it is rather cute that you're so worried. Just like it is cute that you are jealous.”
With a squeaky laughter he ran into the room to the bed, followed by Ehandar.
“I am not jealous. I am not, you hear me? I am not,” he yelled.
A while later they lay, both naked, on the bed. Anaxantis started to turn on his belly, but Ehandar stopped him.
“No,” he whispered self-consciously, “you take me.”
“Ehandar, you're not used to it,” Anaxantis said concernedly.
“Neither were you,” Ehandar replied while he turned around. “Go ahead, it'll be alright.”
Anaxantis used a liberal amount of scented oil to rub on his member and in Ehandar's entrance before he inserted himself as gentle as he could. Nevertheless, the pain was excruciating, like nothing Ehandar had felt before.
“By the Gods, this hurts,” he thought while biting his arm, “and I wanted this and he is being so careful, so considerate. This feeling, having someone inside you, is so intimate. It makes you feel so vulnerable. There's not much more you can give of yourself. And I have inflicted this callously upon him against his will. I have taken with violence what should be offered freely.”
“Oh, I am sorry, I've been too forceful. Now I've hurt you and made you cry,” Anaxantis said ruefully.
But that was not why Ehandar was crying.
Chapter 6:
Clansmen of Anaxantis
It was the end of September, but the weather was still relatively mild. For about a month Anaxantis, Hemarchidas and two others had gathered in the clearing in the woods. The day after they first met, Hemarchidas had brought his friend Lethoras, a Cheridonian champion sword fighter. He was a quiet, self-assured, lanky guy who looked with detachment at the world through his dark green eyes. Three days later an infantry soldier called Bortram, who had a certain reputation in close combat, became a regular. He was less heavy-set than one would
expect for a wrestler, with short brown hair and a pale face that easily reddened. Though not a Cheridonian, he was an acquaintance of Lethoras. Anaxantis reveled in the company of his new found friends, although the exercising proved rather humiliating. At horse riding he was clearly inferior to Hemarchidas, and Lethoras could knock his sword out of his hand with one blow. Bortram wrestled him to the ground in less than a minute. But Anaxantis kept at it tenaciously.
“You're improving, Anack,” Bortram had said after a few weeks.
“You knocked me down exactly as fast as the other day,” Anaxantis had replied sourly.
“Ah, yes, but today I almost had to make an effort to do it,” Bortram had smiled.
“Almost. Why, thank you very much indeed,” Anaxantis had exclaimed exasperated.
“No, seriously,” Bortram had winked, “tomorrow I'll teach you some tricks that should enable you to hold your own against much stronger opponents. I think you're ready. They won't work on me, though.”
Anaxantis always brought the wine and food, mostly bread, butter and cold cuts, of which he himself ate very sparingly. After a week Hemarchidas had complained.
“It's always you who brings the refreshments. Meats, butter, bread, cheese, wine... it must cost you a fortune.”
“Oh, let me do this,” Anaxantis had replied, “Lethoras and you are not being paid, you're here because the Cheridoni are obliged under treaty to send troops. Bortram has a service pay, but he sends most of it home so his parents can keep the farm. I on the other hand can not only keep my pay, but my father sends me a generous supplemental allowance, and I have nothing to spend it on. You give your time for free to train a runt. Believe me, it is more than fair.”
“I'm not complaining,” Bortram said while chewing on a chicken leg. “The food in the barracks is not bad, but not nearly as good as this stuff.”
“Neither am I,” Lethoras had chimed in. “I'm sick of patriph, national dish or not. Every freaking morning, midday and evening porridge with slivers of dried goat meat. No, thank you. You're outvoted, Hem.”
“I still think it isn't fair,” Hemarchidas had grumbled, but, when Anaxantis had laid his hand on his shoulder, he hadn't insisted.
Ehandar had said nothing to discourage Anaxantis, although sometimes the words burned on his tongue. He had listened to his excited stories of how he had mastered a new sword technique, or when for the first time he had won a race from Hemarchidas.
“He has a healthy color. All that exercising must do him good and he seems to enjoy the time with his friends. He is more lively. I just hope that he doesn't become overconfident. We still don't know what caused his spells and if they're truly gone for good.”
One afternoon Lethoras demonstrated how one man defends himself against multiple opponents. It was impressive. He had asked the other three to attack him simultaneously, and in less than five minutes he had disarmed them one by one. To Anaxantis's relief, Bortram was even worse with a sword than he. Lethoras explained the different moves and techniques he had used to simultaneously keep two attackers fully occupied while disarming a third.
“Now you,” he said to Anaxantis. “Don't try to do what I did. Just defend yourself. If you manage to keep us at bay for a few minutes that will be a very good beginning. Don't try anything fancy, just concentrate on deflecting our attacks.”
There was only one thing Anaxantis could do and that was retreat while fending off their blows. Very soon they threatened to surround him, so he maneuvered himself until he stood with his back against a tree to prevent being encircled. It also meant that he couldn't retreat any further, and he knew that whatever he did, it would be over in a matter of minutes.
Suddenly the four friends heard a cry and saw about a dozen soldiers on horseback storming at them, swords drawn. They had not the faintest idea what was happening.
“Stop, stop, it's only an exercise. They're my friends. I'm not in danger. Stop. Stop,” Anaxantis yelled at the top of his lungs
The soldiers came to a halt, only inches away from the four friends. The captain of the squad dismounted.
“Are you all right, my lord?” he inquired.
“Yes, yes, we were only practicing. My friends were teaching me to defend myself against a multiple attack.”
The captain looked at the other three with still a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
“How is it you find yourself in this part of the woods,” Anaxantis asked. “I've never before seen soldiers here.”
“Your brother, lord Ehandar, gave us specific instructions to keep an eye on suspicious movements in this sector of the forest, my lord.”
“And he didn't mention that I was here with friends?”
“Yes, he did, my lord, only, what I saw didn't look very friendly. For all I knew you were under attack by robbers, and your friends could be lying dead somewhere.”
“I see,” Anaxantis said resigned.
“I'm sorry, my lord, if I disturbed you.”
“No, no, captain, you weren't to know. On the contrary, you did your duty and you did it admirably. You are to be commended. Had I been in any real danger, you would have saved me. Thank you. I shall make sure to tell my brother that you executed his orders with diligence.”
Inwardly, the captain sighed with relief. He wouldn't have been the first officer to be reprimanded for just doing his duty with an undesired result, because his instructions had been incomplete. Blame tended to seek out the lower ranks, he knew. At least the young lord was fair in his assessment of what had happened.
“Thank you, my lord,” he replied. “With your permission we will leave you to it. I will patrol the perimeter of this section and not disturb you anymore.”
When the soldiers had left an uneasy silence descended upon the little group. Hemarchidas went to his horse, untied it and mounted.
“Your lordship,” he said tersely, “I bid you a good day.”
“Hemarchidas, wait,” Anaxantis said desolately, “let me at least explain.”
“No need to explain, your highness,” Hemarchidas replied bitterly. “Just find yourself some new toys to play with.”
With that he gave his horse the spurs and galloped off. Lethoras who was mounting his own chestnut, yelled after him.
“Wait for me, Hemarchidas, damn it, wait for me.”
Once mounted he turned to Anaxantis and said in a sorrowful tone:
“Sorry, Ana... sorry, he's my friend...”
Anaxantis followed them with his eyes until they disappeared behind the trees. He turned to Bortram, who had all this time looked on without saying a word.
“Well, why are you still here?” Anaxantis asked roughly. “Aren't you mad at me too?”
“I am not mad at you,” Bortram said calmly.
“Why not? They are.”
“Because I knew from the first moment I saw you who you were.”
“What?”
“I saw you riding by one day with your brother,” Bortram grinned. “Not ten feet away from me. You, of course, saw nobody.”
“Yeah, well—”
“O, no need to apologize,” Bortram interrupted him. “It's perfectly normal. There are hundreds of us simple soldiers and but two lord governors.”
“And you decided to say nothing to the others?”
“Yep. I was curious, to tell the truth. And hey, when was I ever going to get another chance to smack a prince down on his princely butt? To be honest, I was much harder on you than I would have been on any other beginner.”
“Me and my butt thank you,” Anaxantis sneered.
“Well, I wanted to know how long you would keep up the charade. After each time I threw you down, I expected you to say something like ‘Don't you know who I am, peasant?’ and become all highty-mighty on me. But, no, you didn't.”
“So, you stayed just to have the pleasure to pummel me into the ground?”
“Of course not. There was also the food. How often do you think a simple peasant's son has the occasion to sink hi
s teeth in a chicken prepared for the lord governor? By the Gods, I get hungry just speaking about it. You wouldn't happen to have some with you, would you?”
Anaxantis looked at him exasperated.
“Are you serious? Oh, in my saddlebag... Go and serve yourself.”
Bortram went over to Anaxantis's horse and opened one of the pouches.
“The other,” Anaxantis shouted after him.
But it was too late. Bortram had found his yellow tunic with the dragon crest.
“Ha,” he said.
“Yes, I take it off as soon as I reach the forest,” Anaxantis admitted.
After replacing the tunic, Bortram retrieved an enormous turkey leg out of the other saddlebag.
“Happy now?” Anaxantis asked.
“Delicious. You'll never know just how delicious until you have lived a few weeks on bread, water and gruel.”
“Try three months,” Anaxantis thought, “but you would never believe me.”
“And you're sure I haven't?” he said. “At least, you're honest,” he added dejectedly.
“Oh, there was something else. I never would have thought so, but I found you surprisingly fun to be around. You're good company, eh... yeah, what shall I call you?”
“You know my name. Obviously. But you can keep calling me Anack, if you like,” Anaxantis shrugged.
“I'll go with Anaxantis then,” Bortram replied, gulping down a piece of turkey meat. “It's a nice compromise between Your Divine Highty-Mightyness and Your Shrimpness, don't you think? Damn, this is good. I could use a swig of wine, though.”
“Saddlebag,” Anaxantis said morosely. “So, we're good, then?” he added while Bortram was rummaging around for the wine flask.
“Sure, why not? I still won't let you win, though,” Bortram replied, pointing the turkey leg at him.
“I do hope so,” Anaxantis said, “but one day I am going to smack you down so hard that your ass will hurt for a month.”
The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse) Page 8