A Royal Affair

by John Wiltshire

  “I am not a mystic; I am a doctor. I was looking to see if it was clean. Which it is, for once.”

  “But what can you see in the lines? Am I going to have a long life?”

  I sighed and turned his hand over, looking at his palm. After a moment, I let it drop. “It is superstition. Next you will have me trying to perform alchemy or necromancy.”

  He seemed not to have noticed my change of subject on seeing his lifeline. He took my hand instead. “We had a gypsy come to court one Christmas and read all our palms. My father did not ban her, and so the priests could say nothing. You have a very deep line here. What is this?”

  “The heart line. Leave it, Aleksey. It is not scientific, and people only want to hear good things anyway. I could as well toss some bones and read your future in them as I could from lines formed in flesh. Your future is written in the things you do today.”

  “What do you mean? Is this another theory? I like your theories.”

  “You fell off your horse and broke your rib. That affected what happened to you for the next few days. If you had not fallen off your horse, you would not be here sitting with me now. You would be somewhere else, doing something else. We should all make careful decisions about what we do, and think about the consequent ripple from those decisions before we act.”

  He thought about this for an inordinately long time. I was very content sitting there warm against him and with the weak winter sun on my face. Finally he roused himself slightly and asked in a deceptively even voice, “So you are saying that every action has a consequence.”

  “Yes. It is not magic or superstition that cause things to happen. It is men and the things they do.”

  “So if I decide to do something, I should think through all the possible consequences and weigh them in balance.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “And even if I can foresee bad consequences, I am still justified in making the decision to act a certain way, because I will be acting with conscious will against my better judgment?”

  “I suppose so. But I do not see why you would ever foresee unfortunate consequences from an act but still do it.”

  He turned to me, caught my face in his hands, and kissed me.

  CHAPTER 17

  A MAN cannot be a rational creature, a man of science and thought, all the time. He is still a man when all is said and done. I was a man, and I was being offered the one thing I had wanted since I was old enough to want such things and from the very person I had fixated on as the person I wanted it from. I turned into the kiss, my hands going to his hair, tugging him closer. He opened his lips. Our tongues met. The joining went like a spark to my groin, awakening the touch paper of my need. I could have swallowed him whole.

  He pulled off, his face glowing and triumphant, sparking with that intense vitality I always associated with him. “There. I’ve done it. I said I would, and I have!”

  I jerked back, shifting bodily away from him. “What do you mean?” I felt a terrible chill run though my body. “Was this a bet? Are you playing a game?”

  His face was a mask of hurt and confusion. Poor Aleksey. He had made this incredible first move only to have it received so. But of course he could not know why this thought dismayed me. He knew nothing of my history. I seized his arms. “Who did you say it to? Have you discussed this with anyone?”

  “I only—Johan said—”

  “Johan!” This was what Johan had been discussing with Jules. Aleksey had proposed this dare; the bet had been accepted. Had they laughed as they’d planned it? Laughed about me? Probably whilst enjoying—I could not take that awful thought to its conclusion.

  “Niko—” He stopped abruptly. I heard it too: a clip of horses’ hooves, a jingle of tack. We stood as one and held our horses’ heads, hands over their nostrils, stroking and speaking silent words of calm. The group of riders passed above our heads on the ridgeline. We could see them, clearly outlined against the sky. They were heavily armed and wore uniforms.

  I think we would have remained undetected, except one of their horsemen let his horse slip and stumble, fragments of the sandy edge falling away and raining around us. He looked down, and we were seen. We were up on our mounts and away down the stream before he could shout alarm. They had the advantage of the higher ground, though, and could keep us in sight as we tried to find a route to outrun them. I had no doubt we could outpace them, for Xavier was a superb horse, and Aleksey always rode the best of horses. But we needed to get out of the valley of the stream and up into the open meadows. I heard something fly past my ear and saw a lance quiver in the soft sand ahead. I snatched it out of the ground as we passed. I intended to return it to them.

  At last we could negotiate the bank, and we slid off the horses and yanked them up to the top, remounted, and took flight. Only when streaming across the meadow did I feel the tension leave my shoulders. It is not a nice feeling to expect a lance between the shoulder blades at any moment. I looked behind and relaxed a little. They were still trying to come down off the ridge, and it was not proving easy. They’d had to dismount, and the horses were fighting the feeling of slipping and sliding in the sand. I eased Xavier back a little so Aleksey could come alongside. His face was stony. I knew he was dwelling on the interrupted moment between us. “Why do we not push on in daylight now? Lying low for the day did not protect us. Perhaps going forward boldly will.”

  He nodded. I don’t think he cared much one way or the other. I glanced behind again. We were sheltered from the view of our pursuers by the depth of the riverbed from which they had yet to emerge. I nodded toward the forest, and we turned our horses into the trees. I slid off Xavier and gave the reins to Aleksey. “Keep going. I will catch you up.”

  “What are you—”

  “Just go. You are wasting time.”

  “How will you find—”

  “Go!”

  He gave me a very unpleasant look, which I ignored, and carried on into the gloom of the forest. I began to cover any sign of where we had entered the trees, working back until we had turned and then back some more. It then appeared as if we had been lifted into the air. If they assumed we had turned to the trees and followed us, they would turn at the wrong point now and be lost. I jogged back into cover and hunkered down. In a few minutes, I watched them stream past. They were fired up with the excitement of the chase and had not even noticed that our tracks had ended. Well, they had now destroyed all signs with their own ineptitude. I slid from my position and began to run, following our own horses’ trail.

  As I ran, I could not help my mind dwelling on the kiss. I could not believe he had done that. I could not blame him for his ignorance of my history, but even for friendship’s sake, I would not have expected it of him. Perhaps it was no more to him than John laying his hand on my thigh.

  I wondered how much money he had won by the bet.

  How far would he have gone?

  I remembered the man I had witnessed kneeling to another, sucking and licking to ribald, obscene encouragement from his spectators.

  Would Aleksey have….

  Did the bet include….

  I punished myself with these thoughts as I ran, but even their insistent, stabbing repetition could not distract from another insidious question that wormed beneath.

  Did I care?

  Was I so far gone in my desire for Aleksey that I would have him any way I could get him?

  It was no wonder, therefore, that I did not discuss the incident calmly and rationally when I eventually caught them up. I leaned against Xavier’s back and panted, “We have lost them.”

  “I am not a baby, Doctor! I am a general. I should have stayed behind to do whatever it was you did. I should not have been dismissed as a messenger boy would with the horses.”

  God help me. I forgot he could have no idea that by the time I was half his age I rode a Powponi warhorse decorated with a hundred scalps. And they were not black with flowing hair but blond and brown and red. Did he think I had never b
een a spy before? How did he think I had retained my English whilst I lived within the tribe? Who better to infiltrate the new colonies, find their weaknesses and betray them, than a blond-haired boy who spoke their language? Aleksey could have known none of this, but even so, I knew it, and it colored my reaction to his childish outburst. I was sick of His Royal Highness Prince Christian—my apologies, His Royal Highness General the Prince Christian.

  I turned and in one swift move had him off his horse. I thank the gods now that I was not mounted, for I would have flung myself at him and taken him down to the ground anyway. Poor boy, his ribs would probably have broken again. As it was, he cried out—more in shock and outrage than pain. It didn’t really matter why; I ignored him.

  “You want to be treated like a man, huh? Don’t play games like a little boy, then.” I lay hard upon him and kissed him. He tried to escape, but he had no chance. I was a great deal stronger than he, and he was wounded. I ground my lips to his, forced his open, pushed my tongue inside. He tried to bite, but this only made me laugh. I’d played this game with experts, men who had overwhelmed me time and time again and made me their plaything. I wasn’t going to be intimidated now by a baby playacting as a man. I began to unlace his breeches. His eyes widened, and I smirked against his lips. “Mmm, not so keen to play now, no? This is what it does, Aleksey, when you deceive and play games. It wakens the beast inside.”

  I was very impressed with his next move. He brought his forehead up sharply, and it connected with my nose. I yelped and put two hands to it, feeling to see if it was broken, and he was away, rolling from under me and scrabbling to his feet. I rose too, still feeling the bridge tentatively. He had pulled a knife from his boot. I almost laughed. He’d copied me in wearing it so. I waved a hand at him. “Don’t even try it, child, or I will stick that knife where it will not see the sun for a very long while.” I had lost the edge of my anger. My nose hurt too much, and I was shivering again, sweat from the run having cooled my body down beyond the level of heat I ever wished to go.

  I was cold, hungry, had a very sore nose, and felt completely and utterly depressed of spirits. I swung up onto Xavier and said wearily, “Shall we go? I do not know the way to an inn. I will keep in your company until we reach one, and then we can part ways. My presence is clearly not to your liking.”

  He stood there with his mouth hanging open, so unlike his usual royal appearance that I snapped, “Stop playing the dullard and mount your horse, Aleksey.”

  He shut his mouth and swung up into his saddle with great difficulty. I spared him not one jot of sympathy. Before he urged his horse to move, however, he turned to me and said flatly, as if merely confirming the surprising price of a loaf of bread, “Not to my liking?”

  I was thinking of other things and did not catch his meaning, so I grunted and began to walk Xavier.

  He repeated, “Not to my liking?” and added this time, “I kissed you because I do not like you? But I am the one battered to the ground, insulted, and—” He stopped abruptly and glanced back over his shoulder at the spot where we had lain. He appeared to be processing something.

  I did not like the train of his thoughts, which I fancied I could hear. He may have misread my reaction to the kiss but not my essential nature. What man denies his unnatural attraction to other men by taking one to the ground and attempting to penetrate him? These were not the actions of a man disgusted by the act itself, merely, perhaps, its timing… its intent….

  My own inconsistency infuriated me.

  Aleksey was not stupid. The opposite, in fact, as his quick grasp of Powponi and very effective use of it proved. He would very easily make the connection between my actions on the ground and my desires.

  Perhaps he was now attempting to work out why his kiss had been received so.

  I dared not turn to him and observe his expression.

  Perhaps he was wishing he’d continued with his plan for the knife.

  I might let him sink it deep this time. I was feeling that wretched.

  So, lost to our own thoughts, we continued until I noticed it was getting dark. I looked around at the empty land. “Where is this inn?”

  He came out of his reverie and looked around too. “How should I know?”

  I frowned. “I thought you were the master spy. I thought you knew this country!”

  “I was eight! I hardly frequented inns! I have no idea where we are.” I could hear that he was adding some curses at me in his head. As long as he kept them to himself, we would get along famously. My days of being meek and mild with his highness were over.

  “We will have to make camp for the night.”

  “I’m not—” Whatever he had been about to tell me was lost when he suddenly hissed, “Light, look, over there.”

  He was right. I could see a telltale flicker of a fire against the dark of the tree line. We dismounted silently. I held a hand out to his chest. “Stay here. I will go see who they are.”

  He pushed past my outstretched hand, dropping his reins to the ground. I could not do much but catch them and hold the horses while he went forward on his own. I was only glad to be away from him, so I watched, entirely unconcerned, as he stomped away. This disdain for his safety lasted for about ten seconds, of course, until I pulled the horses after me and followed him, cursing silently, into the light.

  THEY WERE merchants from France, traveling through Saxefalia on the way to countries farther east. We were welcomed heartily, and they even shared some food with us, desperate as they were for news about the war. They had been stopped at the border and searched and had been told various roads not to follow, but other than that, they were entirely ignorant of the events transpiring around them. By dint of careful questioning, we learned more from them than they did from us. They even produced a rough map and showed us where we were. I was able to repay their kindness and generosity when they discovered I was a doctor, for one of them had a wound upon his leg. When I agreed to examine it, I discovered that he had packed it in horse dung, which he had been told was an effective remedy if the horse passed his shit during a full moon. We had seen a full moon some days before, so he had duly collected the dung and wrapped his leg in it. Strange to tell, he now had a large abscess and was in considerable pain.

  I had them build up the fire and boil some water. They were puzzled by my request, but my explanation that my hands were dirty only confused them more. I took the opportunity to dip my knife into the water too. It did not seem odd to me that if sickness came from dirt, I should also clean my instruments. When the water had cooled a little, I washed his leg. The abscess was horrible. I had quite an audience by this time. They all wanted to know what remedies I was going to apply. When I told them, there was a universal intake of breath. They were horrified that I was planning to open the wound and drain the pus. They all believed pus to be the great healer and that to waste it upon the ground was like wasting wine. One suggested I preserve it in a jar to be rubbed upon other wounds that did not yet have pus. Another offered to dig for earthworms and claimed they had been proved to be efficacious when mashed and applied to a wound. A third muttered that prayer alone could help, and fortunately he took himself off to do just that and left me alone to prepare.

  When I was ready, I told one of the man’s friends to hold him steady, but he refused, saying he would not take part in devil’s work. I heard a sigh, and Aleksey came into the light and sat behind the man, holding him securely. I glanced at him to thank him, but he would not catch my eye.

  We had not been this close since the incident on the ground, and that moment came back forcibly to me now as I went about helping my patient. I had lain on men before, of course, for far longer and in more intimate circumstances, but I could not recall a single instance where I had wanted what lay beneath me as much as I wanted Aleksey. What would he have done if I’d not been vicious? Not angry and hurt. What would he do now if I moved my hand a little to where his lay upon my patient’s shoulders and touched him? Perhaps he woul
d raise his downcast eyes to mine and all would be understood and forgiven.

  I began to slide my hand closer.

  The abscess burst to the accompaniment of cursing from both Aleksey and the young merchant, and the moment was lost.

  I rose, wiping my knife. I did not acknowledge Aleksey’s help in any way.

  I just wanted to be away from him and have some time to think.

  It seemed incredible, but I had finally kissed Aleksey. It didn’t matter how many times I said it to myself; it didn’t become more believable. The memory of his tongue upon mine was so vivid I fancied I could again feel the slight push of hesitant seeking turning to greedy joy. I had not felt them at the time, but now I could recall his hands upon my body, and where he had touched me scorched me anew. All within me smoldered; pent up need threatened to erupt. My dreams betrayed my desires. I woke in a very obvious state, despite the cold, and had to wander well away from the camp for some time before I was decent enough to meet my fellow travelers for breakfast.

  CHAPTER 18

  ALEKSEY WAS studying the map the merchants were using to navigate their way to the east. I wanted to see which way I should take to return to Hesse-Davia and thence to England, for I had decided we needed to part company as soon as possible. I squatted down alongside him and peered at the squiggles. “Where are we?”

  He looked a little reluctant to engage with me but pointed to a place that was marked with little scratches, indicating forest. “Where were we when we left the—our companions?”

  Again, he indicated a place. I measured the gap between, calculating distance and time traveled, and tried to estimate how long it would take me, on a direct route, to return to the castle. It had occurred to me that I could leave for England from Saxefalia, but I had left my coin and letters of reference back in my rooms in the officers’ mess so was very reluctant to return to England with only the clothes I stood in. After a moment, Aleksey said in a neutral voice, “This is the peninsula they have taken.” I made no reply. He waited for a moment, then continued, “This is the route that they will be reinforcing it from. Their troops will have to pass along here.” He pointed to a wiggly line, which appeared very close to our current location. Still I made no reply. “We could find out their troop strength and disposition if we watched from here.”