A Royal Affair

by John Wiltshire

  I shook my head, now busying myself with Xavier’s tack.

  “It must be hard to be so far from home amongst strangers.”

  I gave an imperceptible shrug. I had always been far from home and always amongst strangers.

  “You lost your parents very young, I think… and… a sister?”

  I turned sharply. “You would do well, woman, to keep such strange ability to read a man’s mind to yourself in this country.”

  She did not seem offended by my complete and uncharacteristic lack of manners. It was not every day that the very things I had been remembering were plucked so accurately from my mind. “I do not need to be a witch, sir, to read the sadness and longing in your face when you saw me with my husband and children. Am I wrong?”

  I debated telling her that she was being impertinent and that I had no intention of sharing my personal business with her or anyone else in this horrible place, but as I was about to speak, my eye was caught by a structure in the yard: a little bird table. I had not seen such a thing since I left England. It was just a simple wooden construction, painted sunflower yellow, but it spoke volumes about the kindness of these people in this little valley by the sea.

  So instead of cruel words, I found myself telling her about my parents and their terrible deaths. How I had witnessed the massacre of our small colony, hanging so precariously on the edge of the world. How my sister and I had been taken by the Powponi to raise as their own, the tribe unconcerned that, having massacred our parents, we might resent them or their way of life. And how they had been proved right. That despite the early death of my little sister from the shock, I had come to think of those savage people as my own. I had never told anyone this, so why I told that strange woman I have no idea. Maybe she was a witch. She certainly bewitched me. When I had stopped speaking, she swayed a little, rocking the baby.

  “My mother was from a place so far away that no one here knows where that was. Not even Aleksey, and he knows many things we do not. She was not like us. She was the color of the rich earth when you turn it for planting. She spoke no words that anyone but I could understand. There were just the two of us, and her stories of a wise people who knew everything about the world and the stars and the way the seasons turn. She could cure the sick. She could tell of future events, because she watched and thought and put the world into order around her.”

  “How did you come to be here? In this country?”

  “We were brought on a ship as slaves. I saw something of her in your face: sadness for what cannot be again. I’m sorry. I should not have spoken to you thus.” She smiled shyly. “You ride with a prince and must be very important.”

  I did not have to have witch powers to read this to mean Aleksey thinks he is very important, and we all let him continue to think so. I laughed. I suddenly felt a lightness of heart again, the same zest for life I’d felt during our horse race, before my shame and desire for what could never be had overtaken me and put me in such a bad humor—before I had beheld something I wanted but knew I could not have.

  I held out my arms, tentatively. “May I?”

  She nodded and passed the child over. It was no tender moment. The creature was entirely unimpressed by doctors or apparently beautiful men with sad histories. She screwed up her little face and sobbed. I apologized and passed her back over—quickly.

  When we returned to the table, I felt Aleksey’s eyes upon me questioningly, but food had arrived, and by that time I was so hungry I ignored my growing obsession with him in favor of eating. The food was far and away the best I had been presented with since my arrival in Hesse-Davia. I mentioned to Pia that she was a very good cook, only to have my innocent comment hooted at with derision by all present. Gregory was the cook. He was also the proprietor of the inn and headman of the small village. Gregory had been a cook in many of the great palaces of Europe, and consequently he spoke many languages fluently. He was clearly a very cultured and wealthy man, but he had been born in Hesse-Davia and so had returned to where his blood called him to pass his final years. He spoke like a man in his dotage, but I could tell by now that this was something of an affectation, for he was only a decade or so older than I. He had unexpectedly met Pia upon his return. Her circumstances were not alluded to at that table, but I suspected they all knew the story of her enslavement but were too polite to bring it up in front of a stranger, not knowing she had shared this with me already.

  While I had been entertained by Gregory’s story, Aleksey had been deep in conversation with the scarred man whose name I could not remember. I did remember, however, that I had not particularly liked him, and this cozy little chat with Aleksey now did nothing to change my opinion. They leaned their heads very close together so their conversation could not be overheard, and they sat so close that their thighs were pressed one to the other. It was not the usual way for two men to sit, especially since one was a prince, and I felt Aleksey demeaned himself by such behavior.

  I was slightly surprised, therefore, when he broke off his whispered conversation and said to me, “You remember Colonel Johan, of course.”

  I did and said so, coolly. I had not realized he was a colonel in Aleksey’s army. I reappraised him, given this knowledge. He did not seem as put out to be of inferior rank to an arrogant child as I would.

  Perhaps he liked Aleksey giving him orders.

  “Johan has come up with a solution to your problem, Nikolai.”

  I huffed slightly. “I was not aware I had a problem.”

  He frowned. “The king?”

  I felt foolish. How many times did I need to tell myself to be more neutral and professional? Many more times apparently. I stopped thinking about Aleksey giving me orders and tried to concentrate. They had been discussing the poisoning of a king. It was no wonder they had been secretive and spoke in whispers. I turned politely to the colonel with raised eyebrows.

  “There is a summerhouse by the sea that is used by the officers of the regiment. It is empty this time of the year. It is isolated, habitable, and—” He turned to Gregory. “What is the word I am looking for?”

  Gregory huffed. “Cold?”

  Johan smiled at him but added to me, “Bracing.”

  Agreeing with the colonel, Aleksey added, “No one could be ill there. It is very beautiful.”

  Johan flicked him an affectionate look. “And there speaks the pampered prince who has never even had a cold.”

  Aleksey turned cool eyes upon him, but I could tell he was only feigning his anger. “You do remember the ten inches of steel I took to my gut in the war?”

  “Ten inches? The only ten inches you take are in your dreams, lad.”

  Gregory choked suddenly on something he had been eating. I turned, mulling over whether to just leave now or remember my vow to try and remain professional. I wasn’t sure I entirely understood the conversation, but I understood enough to know leaving seemed like a very pleasant option.

  Aleksey seemed to sense my thoughts yet again, for he slid farther away from the colonel and next to me. “What do you think?”

  I was fairly sure he didn’t want to know what I thought, so I merely commented, “It is getting dark. We should return, no?”

  Aleksey looked chastened. He pouted a little. I heard a snort from Gregory, but then Pia was clearing the table and pushed a few plates to the colonel and told him angrily to carry them for her. To my surprise, he did. I did not think I had ever seen a man carry a plate before, besides a servant of course. It was rather novel.

  We rode back most of the way in silence. I had a lot to think about, and so, I assumed, did Aleksey. But as we rode through the oppressive closeness of the forest, it seemed necessary to say something to keep the darkness at bay. “What happened to Pia’s mother? Do you know?” He turned to me, surprised, so I added carelessly, “She was telling me something of her history. I was interested.”

  “Margaret was burned as a witch.”

  Xavier stumbled at my hiss of shocked anger. Aleksey put a
hand to the rein to steady him. It slipped to my thigh, and he left it there. After a suitable time, which put the touch somewhere between brotherly comfort and something else, I pulled away. We did not mention the moment. Instead, glancing off into the trees, Aleksey asked, “What did you think of Colonel Johan’s suggestion?”

  I matched his cool tone. “If the colonel agrees to my use of the house, then I think it is an excellent idea.”

  “The colonel will do as he is told. Do you think it will work?”

  Damn him, but his moods were beginning to wear on my nerves. “Yes, Your Royal Highness, I think it will work, but I cannot begin to see how we will separate the king from his court and all his attendants.”

  “I was thinking we kidnap him.”

  I laughed, some of my tension released. Then as an afterthought, I added, “Surely you jest.”

  He shrugged. “If he lives, he will forgive us, and no harm will come to us. If he dies, we die anyway.”

  “What is with this we? I will—”

  “You do this with me or not at all.”

  “Damn it! What if my cure doesn’t work? What am I to think if you are the only person there?”

  “Well, I suppose you will have to think me a king-slayer.” He paused, staring at me in the darkness. “You have thought worse things about me, have you not?”

  I stared back. “And are they true?”

  I think the night waited for my answer with me. He blinked, turned to face the way home, and said very distinctly, “I would never do anything that would harm my father.” With that adroit reply, he kicked his horse into a canter, despite the dangers of the darkness, and drew beyond my vision.

  CHAPTER 7

  I WOKE to clatter and disturbance. My head ached, and I felt incredibly out of sorts. I had been left to find my own way back to the castle and through to my rooms. It had set me in such a bad temper that I had slept fitfully, my thoughts spinning and churning as much out of my control as the waves beneath my window. I was slightly mollified to find that Stephen was making the clatter and that he was making it with hot water, some food, and a fire. He was a welcome sight. I yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”

  “Time to rise?”

  “Ah, a wit.” I climbed out of bed, modestly wrapping the sheet around me. In the habit of sleeping naked, I was not used to being woken by small, noisy boys. I particularly did not want this inquisitive small boy to notice the state I was in. It would pass. I ordered him to ready my horse. I was determined to take matters into my own hands this morning—visiting the proposed house being my first intention.

  When he left, I cast off the sheet and tested the water. I was beginning my shave when Aleksey breezed in from the adjoining room. “The devil’s arse, Aleksey!” I grabbed the sheet, but it was a little late for modesty.

  His eyes widened. If he was about to remonstrate with me for cursing at a prince or make some other comment on… something, I wasn’t interested and forestalled him sharply, “You knock next time, yes?”

  “You do remember that I am a soldier?”

  What this had to do with my erect member I could not imagine. He must have seen my annoyed confusion, for he waved dismissively at my barely covered nakedness. “I live all day long with naked men. Your modesty does you credit, but it is wasted on me.”

  “You paint a very interesting picture of your armed forces. They must have great success in battle. Vast hordes of naked, aroused men would make every enemy combatant flee the field!”

  He grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. Anyway, you have distracted me from what I came to tell you. Please carry on.” He indicated my ablutions. The water was getting cold, so I did not tell him that I would wait until he left. I turned my back on him and began to soap my face. In the mirror, I could see him watching me with great interest. For someone who, as he claimed, lived his whole life with naked men, he seemed to be studying my naked back uncomfortably closely. “You are brown and white.” He snorted. “It looks ridiculous.”

  “I do not ride around naked. Unlike your soldiers.”

  He ignored this, as I thought he might, and said more soberly, “It’s agreed, by the way. My brother has agreed to your proposal.”

  I turned, razor in hand, face half shaved.

  He nodded. “We held a council of war… well, not a real one of those of course, because we’re not at—anyway, we all talked, and we’ve all agreed. You will accompany the king to the Beliebenhaus, and there you will cure him.”

  “That’s ex—Beliebenhaus? Doesn’t that mean—” He gave a small imperious wave, and I let it go. “That is excellent news. I’m… surprised.”

  He shrugged. “As am I. Nevertheless, George commands and George is obeyed. You go. Do you need to make preparations? Does my father?”

  I looked down with a sly smile. I was about to ask for a Powponi sweat lodge to be built at the House of Pleasure and Lust.

  TO MY amazement, Aleksey managed to find half a dozen servants who he assured me were quick witted enough and skilled enough to carry out my building instructions from a diagram and a description of what was needed. They listened intently, looked at the sketches, took in my anxious look, and then the leader asked neutrally, “So… you want a hut, sir?”

  I frowned but nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. Can you do it?”

  “Can we build… a hut?”

  “Yes!”

  He sucked his teeth a little. I could tell he was refraining, just, from glancing at his companions. “I think that will be within our capabilities, sir. We built the king’s summer residence. Of course that was a few years back, and architectural styles have changed a tad from those I was accustomed to in Cologne… when I apprenticed on the cathedral there….”

  “You’re not household servants, are you?”

  “No, sir. I am Master Mason, and these rogues are my current apprentices. I call them that as I call my current wife. It keeps them all on their toes.”

  “Please, my apologies, sir. I believe His Royal Highness Prince Christian has an unfortunate sense of humor. So, a hut. It does not require gothic arches.”

  “Good. I hate the buggers.”

  To my astonishment, the lodge was built within a day, and the following morning, I was riding with Aleksey to inspect it and to take provisions for our stay. I was still not too clear whether or not he was intending to join in my exile. I wasn’t too sure how I felt about this either way. I could see both advantages and disadvantages to his presence, pleasures and difficulties. My professionalism was telling me that I needed to concentrate on my patient. I could not seem to concentrate on anything else but green eyes when Aleksey was present.

  The House of Lust (as I had translated and insisted on calling the officers’ summer residence) was perfect. Situated on the sunny side of a small bluff overlooking the sea and with airy rooms, it reminded me of the villas built by ancient emperors of Rome for relief from the hot southern summers. Aleksey assured me that it did get very hot in Hesse-Davia in the summer months. This was late September, and the days were beginning to chill noticeably.

  I think Aleksey’s change of mind about accompanying me coincided with the moment I told him I would be bringing no servants and we would not actually be living in the house. He had genuinely not thought that when I said I had to be alone with the king I meant alone: no courtiers and no servants. Master Mason had done me proud with the sweat lodge. The walls were built of new straw and sweet-smelling cedars, which I had requested. The central pit was stacked with wood, and he had even covered the floor with furs. They were not bear or cougar, as the Powponi had used in their sacred lodges, but they were good enough.

  When I turned, Faelan was lying on one of the skins, staring at me with his unnerving amber gaze. He didn’t growl, which I think was a first. I smiled at him. “You want to come? Sit naked and sweat with me?”

  “Yes, please.” I jumped, and Aleksey swept aside the door covering, chuckling. “I did not realize this endeavor involved nakedness. I don
’t think I have ever seen my father naked.”

  “And isn’t that something every son should be able to say?”

  He nodded absentmindedly and sat on the ground cross-legged, for all the world like the Powponi chiefs he so resembled. “Tell me how this works.”

  I debated how best to explain it and sat down across the fire pit from him. “The poison sits in the body the same way salt does. You know how sweat tastes?” He gave me an odd look but nodded. “That’s the salt being washed out of the body when we become too hot. It will work for the poison as well. Eating certain foods helps the body heal itself; liver and shellfish are particularly effective, although I don’t know why. As the poison goes, you replace the bad humors with water. In particularly bad cases, you have to keep doing this for weeks.”

  “Oh.” He picked up a twig and began to draw little pictures in the dirt between the hides. “Where did you learn to be a doctor?”

  This was a tricky question. I usually let people assume I had attended one of the new universities teaching medicine. No one had ever come out and asked me directly before. “I was apprenticed to another who practiced medicine.” I was very pleased by this reply, as it skated close to the truth but said nothing truthful at all. He nodded, not listening anyway, intent on his own thoughts. Suddenly he blurted out, “If he dies—if my father dies—damn it, if he dies, I’m going to smuggle you out of the country. It’s all arranged.”

  “What! Why? Your brother has agreed to this! He must understand it comes with risk.”

  “What he understands now and what he will choose to understand when he is king are two different things. You must see that, Nikolai! All kings begin their reign by sweeping out the old rushes… sweating out the poison, if you will. He will be no different. He will take the opportunity to rid himself of anyone who has threatened or displeased him and make his excuse our father’s murder—whether they are guilty or not.”

  “But I am not his enemy!”