by Anne Rice
All this was said with apparent sincerity and the greatest politeness, but there was nothing obsequious in his manner. He was imploring me with the confidence of a highborn prince which is exactly what he was.
Now all the gossip, all the talk, all of the King’s interest, made some new sense to me. He was magnetic, powerful. I could see this, and feel it. What a spectacular naked slave he must have been. And as the old steward of the Sultan, assessing and commanding slaves, well, he must have been a chilling wonder just as the Queen had said.
I pondered this, pondered him as he knelt there looking up at me with a steady gaze, and then allowed his eyes once more to take my measure down to my painted toenails.
“I could worship you, my lady,” he said in a low voice, his eyelids quivering. “You are as everyone has said, a magnificent lady.”
“In my chambers, I choose who offers me worship, Lexius,” I said. “Stand up now.”
He obeyed quickly as Severin might have done. And was Severin ever going to be punished for allowing this! I wondered where he was lurking and no doubt quavering in fear just now.
Lexius stepped back against the open windows. The sky was paling and the stars were gone. The soft silent rosy light of morning was rising.
“Oh, I have dreamed of this moment,” he said again in that low secretive voice.
“And how so, my lord, and why?” I asked. “Why isn’t the King or the Queen the object of your abject devotion? Are they not the ones who have drawn you here over land and sea?”
He didn’t choose to answer. I felt a great desire to see the King discipline him for his outrageous behavior. But he was a returning prince.
“In time I will make all my secrets known to you,” he said. “Will you forgive me that I’ve offended you, that in my zeal I’ve entered the temple as a clumsy pilgrim? Please don’t close your heart against me!”
I moved towards him and closer to the window, causing him to turn to his right. Now the morning light fully illuminated him, and I saw the superb texture of his skin, and the taut perfect flesh of his face. Timeless, he seemed, timeless in the ways of Asian peoples, and with a regal air that suggested old Persian paintings of splendid courts and emperors of yore.
His hair was almost too long, spilling over his shoulders in serpentine waves and curls. And the rich colors of his beaded robe were visible now, the brilliant blue shining in myriad fragments behind thick golden and silver thread and emeralds and rubies and sapphires, sapphires like the magnificent sapphire at his throat.
He seemed to read my thoughts. Suddenly, he tore the giant sapphire from his collar and held it out to me, glittering like something made of water, in his hand. The sunlight found it and it became a light unto itself.
He fell hard on his knees and still held it up to me. “My gift to you, please, my lady.”
“Save it for the King and Queen.”
“Ah, but I have treasures aplenty for them, and wealth in other forms. This I give to you from my person. And I offer you my soul as well.”
What did this mean, I wondered.
I took the sapphire in my left hand and gazed at it. I didn’t need the lamp now so I put it back on the table and then took the sapphire to the windowsill and studied it, not because I wanted it or needed it, but because I hadn’t seen anything quite like it. Stories came back to me of the jewels of India.
When I turned, I realized that he had prostrated himself full length on the floor. It had a ceremonial quality to it, the way that he lay there, his forehead touching the stone. Without a command from me he rose, sinking back on his heels, and then stood without the aid of his hands. His grace was like that of a dancer. And coming to his full height, he gazed down at me with the same rapt expression as before.
“Beautiful Lady Eva,” he said.
“Enough. I accept your gift. Now, get out. I’ll send word to Our Majesties that you are here, though no doubt they’ll be told as soon as they wake. Go to the quarters given you and wait there until you’re summoned. You’ve behaved like a thief or an invader.”
“Please don’t tell the King,” he said softly. “Please. I am sorry. Forgive me this secret offense and you will have a friend in me forever.”
“And why should I want that?” I asked.
“Lady Eva, give me time to earn your trust.”
“Get out,” I said.
He left without another word.
In a moment, Severin entered, and he was indeed quaking with fear as I expected.
“My lady, he said you were expecting him! He said if I didn’t admit him the worst fate awaited me! He said terrible things, things I didn’t even understand, that I stood between him and the sun and the moon, and no force on earth could keep him from his mission, he spoke of worlds traversed, of seeking a blinding light—”
“You ever let anyone into my chambers again like this,” I said. “And do you know what I will do to you? You’ll be on your knees naked in the kitchens below, the plaything of cooks and bakers for a year.”
He was on his knees and kissing my feet immediately. My heart went out to him as it always did. He was so innocent, so tender of spirit.
“Now you listen to me, boy,” I said. “This will be the end of it, but you never let him past the threshold of my rooms again.”
“Yes, my lady, yes, please, please never send me away. Beat me, punish me, but don’t send me away.”
ii
“This is most strange,” I said to Her Majesty. We sat on the open terrace above the gardens, having our morning meal together. She listened attentively as I recounted the words Severin had spoken. “And what does he mean by all this, this language, his ‘mission,’ and that he has traversed worlds to seek a blinding light?”
“Don’t you know, Eva?” asked the Queen. She looked particularly lovely this morning in her gown of violet and silver with a silver necklace of amethysts and pearls.
Down below in the fountain court nearest the castle doors, the King was breakfasting with Lexius at a marble table. We could see them perfectly but not hear a word. Fountains everywhere gave a low whisper of sound to the morning gardens, and the day’s relentless rhythm of entertainment and busyness had not truly begun.
Lexius was dressed as he had been to greet me, and in the bright light of the high sun he appeared a great god of the East encrusted with jewels. So rich and long was his hair he might have been mistaken at a glance for a woman. And his fine features would not have given his gender away. But his manner was now without reserve or any special obsequiousness and he was speaking urgently and rapidly, it seemed, with animated gestures to the King.
The King as so often had an air of contented patience as he listened. Never was he not outfitted for the eyes of the Court. His scarlet tunic flattered his complexion, but then what did not flatter him? He was smiling and nodding easily at Lexius.
I had not told the King that Lexius had invaded my private rooms. But from my blessed queen I held back nothing.
“Rip your eyes off our august visitor and answer me,” said the Queen calmly.
“Oh, forgive me. You asked me whether or not I knew the meaning of his strange language.”
“Yes, and surely you do know what all this means.”
“No.”
“Eva, you are the guiding genius of discipline in the kingdom,” she said. Her voice was gentle. “You were that before we came! You are the shining representation of the old monarch and her exacting ways. The King may be the priapic guardian of the realm, but you are the prosecutor of our unique laws.”
I was stunned. The Queen didn’t say any of this in anger, nor did she seem to possess the slightest resentment of me, yet what could this mean for her to speak in this way?
“You are our queen,” I said softly. “Your Majesty, this is called Beauty’s Kingdom far and wide, and in the gardens during the revels and in
the village and in all the rooms and hall of the castle, as a matter of course. Bellavalten has become Beauty’s Kingdom.”
“I am merely a symbol,” she answered, “in a land of symbolic gestures and rituals and happy to be so. The old story of enchantment adds to my luster. But it is the King who rules Bellavalten and you who grasp the mystery of all we do and enjoy here, you who effortlessly command as others obey. This is not really ‘Beauty’s Kingdom.’”
What could I say? I waited. She was mistaken, gravely mistaken, if she thought my grasp of things exceeded hers. She fathomed depths of which the rest of us knew little or nothing. Her judgments were sound, and her decisions perfect. No scheme or design of hers had ever failed. The King marveled at this, as did I.
“Lexius has heard of you, Eva,” she said, “heard of your unquestioned mastery, heard of your governance and your personal power—a power that cannot be bestowed on one by others. He’s heard of your youth, and your strength, and your unconquerable soul.”
“Perhaps,” I whispered. “But my queen, why does this matter?”
“Eva, he would first and foremost be your personal slave.”
“No, Your Majesty, allow me to contradict you. He is a slave by nature, that much is plain to me, but he is a proud prince as well. I venture to say he is a domineering prince. This morning, I felt two currents coming from him—extreme need and indomitable will.”
The King rose from the table below and moved towards the castle doors. Lexius came after him, leaning close to him, slipping a bold arm around the King’s back and talking urgently to the King as before. Out of view they walked together.
“Your Majesty, you’ve never been unhappy with me, have you?” I asked.
“No, Eva. Never. I would have told you were I ever unhappy. It’s the opposite. I marvel that you can do what I cannot. I thought to rule Bellavalten properly I must at least understand what Eleanor understood so completely: how to punish and discipline with relish, how to savor the suffering of devoted slaves rather like savoring the fragrance of a great feast or garden of exotic flowers . . .” Her voice trailed off.
She looked out over the wilderness before her of handsome fruit trees and blossoming shrubberies, of ancient oaks here and there left as reminders of an earlier seemingly unconquerable forest—of dancing fountains and carpeted paths. She was sad.
The gardeners slave and free were appearing everywhere. Naked slaves bent to trim and tend the pampered roses and zinnias and oleander. Humbly clad peasants dug up the dark earth for new flower beds, and brought carts of mulch and rich black soil. She watched them as she watched everything.
“Do you fault yourself that you do not enjoy all aspects of this?” I asked. “But how can you fault yourself for such a thing?”
“Because I think that as queen I must. I cannot go out amongst my subjects as a naked slave, can I? I can’t recapture what existed decades ago, not for myself. Oh, never mind, Eva. You have realized all my dreams for the kingdom. You have anticipated most of them. I envision, the King confirms, and you make real.”
“Your Majesty, in your private chambers, you are free as any lord or lady of Bellavalten.”
“I know that, Eva. I had dreamed of something exalted for myself, a reign to rival Queen Eleanor’s, a face beneath the crown to strike terror in those who so long to be terrified, a manner to chill those who came to be chilled of their own will.”
“Ah, but you possess these attributes, my queen,” I said.
She did not believe it. She did not know. She did not realize the thrilling fear she aroused in all those around her. But how could she not know, she, who seemed so attentive to their anguished devotion?
“Your Majesty, the kingdom, such as it is, is your achievement!” I said. “You have a power over all of us, all your subjects, infinitely greater than Queen Eleanor ever had.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because you are the iron mistress with the irresistible sweet smile, the absolute authority with the soft voice, the merciless queen who binds with more than mere chains!”
“Is it really so?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” I leaned towards her. I spoke boldly but in a confidential voice. “Your Majesty, the late queen’s legacy was a great concept and a brittle refusal to carry it to greater and greater heights. Your genius with your slaves, your genius with Lord Stefan, your genius with all your subjects, is a marvel. Whatever you suffer inside, you make the kingdom what it is.”
She did not respond. She stared out over the gardens.
“Why do you think we are all so devoted to you?” I asked. “Rosalynd and Elena live to please you with the gilded slaves of the nightly festivals. Your tender fillies are thrilled to their naked hearts to be delivered to your stables. Your little pets, both kittens and puppies, are in a swoon of torment to be near you. Your conviction is blinding in its brightness! You are every bit as potent in the ruling of this realm as our lord, the King.”
She appeared to ponder this and finally she turned to me, her blue eyes soft and wondering, and her face as filled with sincerity as always. “I understand what they all feel, you see.”
“I know.”
“The King understands, but then the King understands everything!” She laughed.
“I know what you mean.”
“It’s as if every slave, no matter how lowly, how disobedient, how submissive, or how perfect is connected by a golden thread to my very heart.”
“Yes.”
“And I will be bolder in the sanctity of my chambers,” she said. “The King has repeatedly urged me to be so. I will, from now on.”
But this vow wasn’t made with much spirit. I wanted to take her hand as she looked again over the bustling gardens. But this seemed presumptuous. I only watched her and waited. And then without turning, she reached out for my hand and clasped it warmly and then drew it to her breast.
iii
The King was always sending me presents. A robe of lavender-blue silk, a dress of plum-colored velvet, slippers of jeweled leather.
Now came the letter in the afternoon as I left the Hall of Postulants, weary from the day’s work but quite encouraged. And the letter said simply for me to wear the plum-colored gown for him this evening, and that he had taken the liberty of retrieving from my quarters the blue sapphire given me by Lexius and that it was being set for me to wear in a necklace of gold.
The plum-colored gown was the King’s favorite, by far. It was low cut to reveal my bosom, but with great flaring sleeves and heavy skirts. How many times had he knelt before those heavy skirts?
But I knew this was no summons to whip him tonight as I did perhaps every two weeks or so. This had to do with Lexius. Why else had he sent for the sapphire?
So I dressed with this in mind.
Severin hovered over me, helping me to rouge my lips; and my naked maids, lovely creatures—the Queen had been so right to say that naked slaves might be used for all manner of labor—did up my hair with ropes of pearls, leaving only the longest locks to fall over my shoulders.
The King liked bare necks and bare shoulders and as much of a bare bosom as a lady might dare to display. That is, when he looked away from his many slaves. Very well. I was more than contented with his taste. And I had a new pair of slippers from him with pointed toes and with the highest gold heels I’d ever worn.
I was dressed and ready quite early. I knew it might be an hour or two before the King’s summons. In fact, I was sure of it as he was in the gardens now with the Queen, and Lexius was with them. Alexi had told me he would be seated with Lexius at the King’s table. And the table tonight would be on the border of the Bridle Path so that the King and Queen and all their Court might pay particular attention to the slaves being paddled along by their masters and mistresses, boy, girl, boy, girl, as the King liked it. And I knew that Stefan, wearing a mask still, and unidentified
to the Court, would be one of those boys. Dmitri would ride in the chariot to drive Stefan with the great leather paddle. Stefan was now Dmitri’s obsession.
He’d returned the ravishing flaxen-haired Becca completely transformed into the most sensitive chamber slave for the Queen, and the Queen was most pleased with that. And though the Queen left the strict punishing of Becca to me, the Queen took Becca into her bed nightly.
The Queen was eager to see Stefan’s performance tonight, to see his form.
Dmitri was toying with the idea of giving a new name to Stefan, a name to mark the trajectory of his new life when the masks were finally put aside. He was calling Stefan by the name of Xander, a nickname Dmitri particularly liked.
I would love to see Stefan for myself tonight, or Xander, and had no doubt that he would be perfect. Dmitri would never have brought him up to Court had he not been ready.
Indeed the strange “Masked One” was now a story in the village, and crowds gathered before the Public Turntable at the predictable hours just to see him whipped. It was the novelty of the mask, certainly, and the whispers that he was of the Court. But it was also that Stefan had become a paragon of decorum. Bad slaves from their pillories were instructed to raise their heads and watch Stefan being punished and learn from his poise.
Rosalynd had told me that it had been this way with Dmitri before he’d left the village years ago to be sent home. He had become the paragon of style on the Public Turntable where once he’d suffered so much. He had become the one whom the crowds gathered to see most especially. And now he had made of Stefan a rival for himself.
Rosalynd was brilliant. The Queen certainly thought so, and she was right. Rosalynd continued to supervise all the many gold-burnished slaves throughout the gardens, those bound to crosses and set in wall niches, and made into footstools, and those whipped in artful and extravagant ways and combinations for the Court. She was ever devising new motifs, new designs, new and artful combinations. She did all this so effortlessly and happily that she had time to spare. Elena was her natural assistant, her devoted friend. These two were the Queen’s favorites.