by Lazlo Ferran
I took it very slowly, my breath getting slower, punctuated with deep sighs as I finally relaxed, and we became one. It wasn’t long before we were lying in each other’s arms luxuriating in the touch of skin on skin.
“It’s so good to be with you again.” She finally said.
We must have fallen asleep like that, myself on my back, she lying curled towards me, because then I was awake and it felt cold. She had pulled a sheet across us and was lying half across me looking at my face.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” she said smiling. “I wanted you to wake up. I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to talk to you. You know you must never leave here again. This is where you belong and things go horribly wrong without you here. A King should stay near his Throne, in charge of his people. Not go gallivanting about across the country, fighting battles. That is what your Generals are for! You could have been killed! Suppose you had been killed? What would have happened to me? At best I would be thrown in prison for the rest of my life, which would probably not be very long because I know what prisons are like, and, at worst, I would have been executed! Or even worse made the wife of Lord Bulya!”
I giggled.
“Don’t laugh! It is not funny! I only realised after you had been away, just how vulnerable I am! I have nobody really to look after me except you! Oh I know I joke about the Politics here most of the time but when you were gone, Politics became dangerous. I didn’t know who to talk to and who to trust. My two closest friends seem to have deeper motives behind the things they do and it scares me.”
Although spoken quietly, it had been a passionately spoken torrent of words and I lay still for a moment, waiting for more. But she had finished.
“I would like to say I will never leave Pirat City and your side, again but you know it is just not possible for me to promise that. It may happen, God willing, but I cannot promise it.”
“Then you must take me with you, if you ever need to go into battle again.”
“You know that would be no good. You could be killed.”
“No. You must promise me. You must not leave me behind again.”
She had a very stern and determined look in her eye, one which I recognised. When she looked at me this way, I knew she would not be moved. And to defy her would be to push her away. She would not forgive me for it.
“You really want this?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I promise I will never leave you behind again.”
She kissed my chest and lay her head down. Her silky hair brushed against the hairs on my chest. It was like being caressed by the finest silk.
I felt her fingertips, with their long nails tracing patterns on my chest and occasionally playfully tugging one of the long hairs there.
“Tell me what the battle was like.”
I took hold of her little fingers in my own and held her index finger. This is Quareem. Then I took her other fingers and thumb and bunched them together. “And these are his Generals and his friends I think.”
“You say his name differently now.”
“Yes. Bulya told me how it is properly pronounced.”
“Ha! Bulya. I wonder how he knows?”
“Yes. Anyway, here is the battlefield.” I sketched out the slope leading up to the Ramparts of the Fortress, which was roughly where her chin was. “And here is watery Knoll, where there was a skirmish, and our camp was there.”
“Ooh. Tell me about the Battle of Watery Knoll!”
With my index finger playing myself, I played out the battle on my chest near my left nipple, which represented the spring, telling her about the run Abdil, I and twenty men had made for the spring and the stand we had made there. How I had spun round and round and how finally Geb and other men had arrived and we had won. How we had dug down to find out how Quareem had poisoned the water and how, finally we had all drank and made a secure camp. I also told her about Ahmed and his family, about the little boy and girl playing and the ride north and the soothsayer.
Then I told her about the main battle. Here I had to restart after attempting to use my index finger to represent myself and getting my fingers twisted up as the battle progressed. She laughed at the mess my fingers were in.
My second finger represented myself, my index, Lord Abdil’Khan, my thumb, Geb, my third was Zhuan’zhuan and my little finger was Yedigei.
I told her how Geb’s men had been secreted and how Abdil fought bravely up the slope on the left flank. How Zhuan’s men had been massacred and how I had led a charge to protect Abdil’s men. How Yedigei had become stuck but fought bravely on and how we had finally reached the wall and set it alight. Then how we had to leave the wall and return down to the rise and Yedigei’s brave charge towards the gate.
Then I played out the final charge and quick as I could. I took her little finger, next to her index, which she had been wiggling angrily to represent Quareem, and, placing it under her chin, told her how Meth had finally appeared at the wall.
“Oh good. I am glad I am not all bad,” she said. “Anyway, why am I Quareem?”
“Because you are a bad girl.”
Then I told her about the chasing of Quareem in the pass. She lifted up her chin and I told her how Quareem had escaped from the bridge and tried to force his horse up the slope.
“Like this?” she said moving her finger up the side of her breast.
“Umm Hmm.”
“But then he could go no higher and he had to turn and try to go down into the gully.”
She turned the direction of her galloping finger and galloped it down to the side of my ribs.
“Finally he could not go any lower and his horse and he, fell off, into space.”
“Ohh.” She said.
“Yes. And then we rode back to camp.”
Then, finally I told her about Abdil’s death outside the gates and I saw a tear roll down her cheek. Abdil’khan was a gruff man and would never have made a good courtier but he had a good heart and we were all fond of him.
As I finished the battle and looked at her blue eyes, watching intently and seriously, I thought she looked like a Goddess, larger than the world, watching the battle beneath her.
The last tall candle flickered out, just after I woke again. ‘It must be near dawn’ I thought and, as usual, I had the urge to get up and organise. But, this time, I didn’t need to. The battle was over. I deserved to take it easy. I lay there for a long time, looking at the vague shadows on the dark ceiling, thinking about all that had happened and many of the times I had spent with Shakira. The times we had made love outside, in the stables and in the forest. I lay like this until I felt a small hand, feeling my face and touching my lips. I kissed it and heard a little giggle.
“I wondered it you were awake.” Her voice was muffled as she was talking into the pillow.
Soon she was moving her body so she could kiss me and I could feel her hardening nipples on my chest. I felt her small hand closing around my cock and she slid her fingers gently up and down it.
“You are such a healthy boy.” she said. Suddenly the silk sheets around me were rising up like a great tidal wave or storm, coming in, as she moved to kneel astride me and then gently, with her hands guiding, she lowered herself onto my cock. I could just make out her shape in the dark and I took both her breasts in my hand. The nipples were now hard and I thought I could feel her heart pumping blood through them but it could have been my own. She moved gently up and down. I wanted to hold her waist and her breasts at the same time but of course, I couldn’t. I settled for one breast and one hip.
She moved up and down and I helped her, moving my hips so we moth moved together. Soon I could feel her reaching a climax and I let myself go.
There was much to be done that day. I had to get a grip on the political situation in the Palace and quickly.
I realised the one advantage I might have, in theory, over any conspiracy, was the surprise of my return. If I moved quickly, I might catch a few people out. I was guessi
ng that it would take time for the conspirators to get round to re-briefing all their henchmen. So I would start at the bottom.
Over a large breakfast of eggs, beef, bread, cheese and red wine, I watched Gregor as he moved about my chambers. He looked listless and seemed to avoid eye contact. He was always such a loyal servant and we had shared many jokes together. I had expected him to question me at length over the battle. When he was close to me again, pouring some more wine, I spoke and watched his reaction.
“You don’t seem very interested in my adventures, Gregor. Is everything alright?”
He started slightly and then met my gaze. His gaze was not open. There was something hidden there.
“Everything is wonderful, Sire, now you are back, safe. Bear and I have missed our Lord badly.”
“So what is the latest gossip, Gregor?”
“Oh nothing really Sire.”
“Kospan. How has he been?”
Now there was definitely a question in his eyes. Did I know something? So, maybe Kospan, or somebody had tried to buy Gregor.
“I know I have not had much time for you lately, Gregor. I may also have missed a few opportunities to thank you and to give you an increased salary. Yes, you deserve it.”
“No Sire. You have not neglected me, if that is what you are getting at.” He was looking at his feet, as if embarrassed to tell me something.
I could see this was going to be a delicate matter. Prising an admission out of a close friend and retaining their friendship is like prising a stone out of a peach, without damaging the peach.
“Things are going to get rough around here, Gregor, and I have the upper hand now. Bulya will not be back for some time, may never be back. I am going to have a long chat with Kospan, because, apparently he has been threatening the Princess. If you hear anything at all that I should know, you will let me know, won’t you?”
I could see fear, shame and confusion pass across his face, like brief, but dark clouds. I hoped that the shame would be the greatest and that he would find a way to choose my side. It was possible he had taken no part in recent events and I hoped he would believe this was what I thought and not that I was accusing him of anything. I gave him a long warm smile. This was a brutal method and not one I would have chosen, had I more time.
Immediately after my breakfast, I called for Kospan. At first he could not be found but I raised my voice to more than one Servant and finally I heard him, out of breath, calling for permission to enter.
His bald pate was slick with sweat but the paunchy man grinned warmly at me and bowed, as was customary, even for elderly statesmen such as him.
“Kospan. How are you, you old Devil?” I slapped him wholeheartedly on the back and we both chuckled, “Today we going to inspect the Palace, at length.”
“Very good Sire. But I might need a few breaks. My legs are not what they were.”
“We’ve got all day, Kospan.”
“True Sire, and the Palace looks so beautiful at this time of year.”
We started in the stables and then reviewed the Gardens and grounds. All the available gardeners and serfs were sweeping up autumn leaves and they all bowed in turn, doffing their brown cloth caps, as we passed.
The gravel, as it was called, recently imported from Europe, crunched under our feet.
“I have a feeling I have missed more than a few months of quiet Palace life, while I have been away.”
“Yes. You certainly have. There have been unwanted visits here and unwanted pressure brought to bear on certain factions within the Palace. Do you feel, as I feel, that Bulya is behind some of this? He has always been a rebel, as you know. Old ways die hard.”
“Yes. Bulya is part of it but there are others behind him. He is just a pawn, albeit a manipulative one.”
Kospan, the experience Courtier and politician, wily as a snake, seemed to consider this for a long moment. “Hm.”
“Do you see that bee over there? He flits from one flower to another, all day, collecting nectar. He does not differentiate between one flower and another. They are all the same to him and he is just doing them a service.”
I wanted to laugh at his cheek but I held it down. While we had been talking, we had reached one of the smaller, side-doors, at the end of a leg of the path, which surrounded the gardens. A Guard saluted and held the iron-banded door open for us. We passed into the gloom and were almost blinded, until our eyes adapted.
“I am not interested in the bee. I am interested in the hive.” I said. I too, was treading on delicate ground. Of course I could lock up Kospan but this would achieve little and he was popular. Also, I knew that Kospan was not motivated by money. He led a comfortable life in the Palace and was fortunate enough to have all he wanted, as he often said, himself. I was sure he would have been happy to stay out of trouble. Which meant he had probably been threatened.
He raised his hand and half waved me off. “If I knew anything, Sire, I would tell you.”
“Why did you question the Princess.”
“Me? Question the Princess? About what?”
Now I was in danger of feeling uncomfortable. I felt myself on the edge of a steep cliff. I cleared my throat. “Hmm. There are rumours, have been for years, about her childhood, where she came from. You know about them?”
There were long seconds while I waited for his answer.
“Ah. Well they’re not true you know.” I said.
Suddenly there was an awkwardness between us and I wanted to get away. My intention of questioning him closely about his fellow, or superior conspirators, had been forgotten.
A few hours later, after my daily tasks were complete and the autumn sun was past its highest point, I found myself back on the parapet of the tower, where Shakira and I had chatted just a few months before. The chilly breeze, which fussed around the stone carvings and raised goose bumps on my skin, seemed to add to my nervousness.
Had I made the same mistake that so many men had made in history, getting so close to a woman that I had neglected all my friends and thus lost control of my Kingdom? I certainly was wondering how much control I actually had. It may be that I had no control. I just wasn’t sure. These thoughts and others like them played around my mind and they seemed constantly to spiral into a dark place. I had a jug of red wine but I eyed it suspiciously, as if it were a Brigand. A born pragmatist, I left alone the higher philosophical points and considered what to do. I had become the hunted animal. Perhaps a better metaphor was that I was in a maze. There was probably only one way out and unless I chose the right one first time, I would only find myself deeper in the maze.
I considered sending Shakira away, well-guarded of course. I could spread word that we had argued and that I no longer wanted to see her. Perhaps this would take away their ammunition. Shakira was my greatest weakness and their weapon. Or at least, publicising it would be. I wondered if removing her from the scene would force their hand.
I stood up, walked forwards and leaned on the edge of the parapet, looking down at the small figures walking around below. I would have to look deep for the answer to this puzzle. On reflection I didn’t think sending Shakira away could help. They would either try to kill her, or kidnap her.
No, there was somebody in the Palace who had useful information and would talk to me but I had to find that person. Almost any piece of information could be used to throw them off their plans, to force their hand. Once they were exposed I could use the Guard to move in.
Suddenly, sick of looking down and indeed, slightly nauseous, I twisted my neck and looked up. I expected to see the usual vagabond crows, wheeling about, looking for an opportunity, but there were none. The sky directly above was a deep azure, as twilight approached and all I could see was the hard skeletal tower, reaching into the heavens. For a moment I fancied I could walk out on it, as if on a pier, to its very tip and I realised I must be drunk. I had an irresistible urge to climb the tower now. It had taken hold, a mad, idiotic urge unbridled by concern for life. I dropped
the flagon of wine and vaguely heard it shatter as I lurched back inside the tower, to the stairs, which continued up. To my knowledge, nobody had been up there for many years. From this point upwards, the stairs were even steeper than those below, forbidding and cracked. I started up them, smiling to myself. At first they followed the four walls of the tower, in four straight lines, with heavy oak doors, some unhinged, some missing, some still locked and intact, on the inner sides.
I casually pushed at them as I passed and saw many dust filled chambers, having long since lost their life and purpose. I half-fancied the rooms had been the apartments of some of the magicians I remembered from my youth, in the Palace, always whispering in my Father’s ear, always murmuring and looking at me with fierce eyes. Indeed, in one chamber I saw what looked like a bird’s perch, no doubt for one of their familiars, a crow, or raven perhaps. But I was moving faster and faster and could not be sure what I saw. I wondered at how fast I climbed. My body was gasping by my spirit was soaring. I felt a deep laugh welling inside me. Eventually I came to a stretch of stairs, shorter than the last and knew I was nearing the pinnacle of this great tower. If I looked out of one of the tiny slits in the outer wall, now, surely I would be astonished at the height. But I did not look. I kept on, in a madness. Then I reached a heavy door, blocking my path. It was very dim in the tower now, the slits being fewer here, and only those on the west side, offering any light. I could not see the door properly, whether it was heavily locked or not, but a fierce passion was upon me and I kicked and kicked at it. I heard a splintering, rending sound. I cursed that nobody could possibly know where the keys were, to this door, even the master key-holder would not know so it had to open. With a fierce yell, I kicked with all the force I could muster and the door opened, leaving behind an iron band still clinging onto the ancient and rusty lock. I ducked and forced my way under the band and through the door. I knew now that a madness was upon me and I suppose I must have been sobering slightly but I was too near the top to stop.
