‘Think about this. If Alofel were to die in battle, Cos would mourn and then crown his heir as king. The young monarch would be accorded as much loyalty and honour as his father. This has not happened in Mewt. Harakhte has been deified in death. When the time comes for war - and it will - Harakhte’s face will adorn the banners of the Mewtish forces. They will march to war led by love. Let us now come closer to home. Akaten was Harakhte’s beloved. And he is here, in Tarnax, in the midst of Mewt’s enemies.’
‘I see.’
‘Yes. I have voiced these thoughts to my friends on the Council, but they are too arrogant to believe Mewt can ever be a threat now that Harakhte is gone. What they fail to perceive is that Harakhte is not gone. He is more powerful now than ever.’
‘Knowing this, it seems preposterous that Harakhte’s beloved should be so close to the king.’
‘Indeed. Now, think, what did Akaten say to you when his guard was down.’
I thought for a few moments. ‘Now that you’ve reminded me, I recall he did speak passionately for his country’s freedom.’
‘And when Menefer came here - what was Akaten’s excuse for remaining in Cos?’
‘Well, he told me that he loved me and could not leave me. I was blinded by emotion at the time and did not question...’
Mallory interrupted me. ‘No, Darien, that is not what he said. Think again.’
I did. ‘Akaten said he had a duty to remain here. I asked him what he meant by that and he spoke of trying to persuade Alofel to be lenient with his people.’
‘Yes, that makes sense,’ Mallory said. ‘You would, of course, have believed that.’
I nodded. ‘Yes.’
Mallory took in a long breath. ‘However, should you spread any tales about the court, people will merely believe you are fabricating because you have been ousted. It’s doubtful they’ll give you any credence.’
I sighed. ‘That is most likely true.’
‘Hmm.’ She tapped her lips with pale fingers. ‘You must be prepared to wait, Darien. We cannot act immediately.’
‘I will wait for as long as it takes. However, my position here is tenuous. I may be sent away.’
Mallory smiled. ‘I have not been idle while you’ve been badgering your allies. I have learned that Alofel intends to punish you with disdain. He is furious you had the effrontery to barge into his rooms last night and has discovered the cause of your jealousy. You sought to own something he thinks is his. You deluded him. He sees it as a gross betrayal. I think he would have sent you packing, but it seems that the Mewt, despite having revealed the details of your relationship, spoke out for you at the last moment and begged Alofel for leniency. Whether this is a blessing or not, only you can decide. When you return to your apartments, you will find they have been stripped of your possessions, which have been moved to a room in the quarters of the other boys Alofel has at his disposal. You are demoted, Darien, and will pleasure the king’s guests as he sees fit.’
I had known something like this would happen, but it still shocked me to hear it. I went entirely numb. Mallory laughed softly. ‘At one time, I believed you had the upper hand, but at least, as queen, I could never suffer the ignominy you must suffer now.’
I put my head in my hands. I should have let Akaten return to Mewt with Menefer. I had been so foolish, so blind. Now, he had destroyed me.
‘Pull yourself together,’ Mallory said. ‘I could wash my hands of you now, because I have what I want. No-one will support you. But, we made a deal and I will stand by it. You might be of use to me in the future.’
As far as Alofel was concerned I might have simply dropped out of existence. I was no longer allowed access to areas of the palace where before I had roamed freely. The door to the king’s wing, along with those to my old apartments, would remain closed to me. For ever. As for Akaten, I did not see him. He made no move to contact me and I had no idea of his thoughts or feelings.
In my new quarters, the other boys took delight in humiliating me. I had once lorded it over them; now I was easy game. As winter breathed its chill across the land, so I became frozen - externally. I spoke to no-one. Even my former servant, Wezling, was above me now. Perhaps he served Akaten. At times, when dignitaries came to court, I and the other boys would be herded into a salon, and the men could take their pick. My peers often made sure the visitors knew who I was, what I had been, and for this reason I was chosen regularly. I did not care. I might as well be dead. Clearly, those who used my body thought this too as they grunted and heaved upon me. It did not matter to them.
Once, in the early days, Porfarryah came to my rooms. The grief that filled her eyes, the pity: I could not bear it. She held out her hands to me, but I turned away. In my heart, I was screaming for comfort, but I could not allow myself to take it.
‘He takes no-one now,’ she said huskily. ‘Akaten is the only one. We are all redundant.’
Just the sound of her voice conjured tears in my eyes. I did not want to hear her words, perceiving them as complaints rather than sympathy. She, after all, had not been stripped of her privileges. ‘I want you to go,’ I said.
‘Darien...’ She did not stay long to argue, and left without clawing another word from me.
I hid from everyone the fiery pain within me. The other boys thought I was strong and cold, untouched by and disdainful of their taunts, but in truth I was a flabby, gasping thing, shocked and bereaved. The small cruelties of catamites could mean nothing to me, because of the immense cruelty I had suffered at the hands of love. I nursed the wounds a tiger had made, while mosquitos buzzed around my head and lapped at my blood. I could not understand how a human being could feel as I felt. It was, after all, inhuman.
At night, alone, I indulged myself in terrible fantasies of reconciliation and vengeance. Sometimes, I imagined Akaten and myself fleeing the country, finding sanctuary in Mewt. I loved him then. At other times, I visualised Alofel realising the folly of his ways and begging my forgiveness. I would demand that Akaten be killed. And it would be done.
Occasionally, I would remember - as a memory of a memory - that time in the temple of Challis Hespereth. Was the goddess punishing me now for profaning the rite? If Akaten had not come to me there, it had been his ghost, the potential of his destructive power.
Winter was hard, and spring came slowly, but there was no rebirth within me. I received a summons from the queen, and was taken to her apartments, even though the lust for vengeance seemed futile now. Akaten was unassailable, Alofel unreachable. Mallory did not see me herself, but entrusted Orlando to interview me. To his credit, he was neither condescending nor smug, but cool and business-like. I was not a person to be envied now. He told me to be ready and that the queen would call for my assistance soon. That was all.
Returning to the boys’ quarters, I realised that great wheels had begun to turn, but it was difficult to glean any satisfaction from that.
Paranoia breeds the fear of conspiracy, and once in its grip, plots and connivances are perceived everywhere. It began, quite slowly, with a single event. A village on the border of Mewt was burned. It was an inconsequential village, of no value, but its demise was a message whose meaning could not be mistaken. Rumours, and finally reports, came thick and fast after that. Mewt terrorists were making attacks on Cossic citizens. Menefer, when confronted, protested firmly he had no knowledge of these events and even promised to investigate the matter in order to quell it. Perhaps he spoke with sincerity. Perhaps it was some other force creating skirmishes among the border villages. We shall never know. I heard that Menefer was worried though. His position was not yet strong enough for revolution and war.
Then, a more serious attack occurred. One of the king’s companies, collecting tithes from a remote town was ambushed. No-one was killed, but all the tithes were stolen. Those who were attacked attested that their assailants wore Mewtish garb, but that their faces were concealed. Information must be leaking out from the palace. As one, all eyes turned towards the r
oyal apartments.
Another delegation of diplomats were sent to Mewt, this time under greater guard, and the occupying army was enlarged. Menefer would be very worried now. To this point, I had not realised how deadly Mallory could be, and even believed her hand was not behind these events. I realised I must be wrong. Some of Mallory’s creatures were among the delegation to Mewt. They brought back astounding news. I was not surprised that Menefer was prepared to sacrifice Akaten, but astounded that he claimed his officials had uncovered an underground resistance movement in Mewt. Akaten, apparently, was its figure-head. Documents appeared, letters that connected Akaten’s name with terrorist activities taking place in Cossic territory. I have no doubt that if there were any terrorists, they didn’t know a word of Mewtish. Mallory, in some way, had coerced or threatened Menefer.
The time came when Mallory’s plans came to fruition. The government was convened and evidence presented. Alofel, who was present, listened to the accusations with a blank expression. His word superseded all others, but he was no fool, and would not, ultimately, risk his neck or reputation because of a lover. I wanted to keep myself in the background, and had no desire to attend the meetings, but Mallory insisted I was present. I stood behind her servants in the gallery, high above the governmental chamber.
I witnessed the moment when Alofel, defeated, ordered his guards to take Akaten into custody. Even then, the king did not falter, no shred of emotion crossed his face. I thought about how he must have assured Akaten constantly that he was safe, that the king’s word would protect him. Did either of them guess who was behind it all?
My future had been wholly concentrated on revenge, but now I had achieved it, everything seemed grey and vague. I would never be Alofel’s favourite again. Mallory was a cold, indifferent patron. I sent word to her, asking if she could arrange for me to be sent back to my parents’ estate, but she refused. I remembered that she had once told me I might be of use to her in the future. She intended to keep me at court, just in case.
At night, I lay alone in my new bed, but could not weep. My heart condensed slowly into a kind of numbness. Men took my body, my contemporaries tormented me, but strangely, it no longer seemed to matter. I felt as if my existence had ceased, and that what lived on in my body was just a ghost, devoid of thought or feeling.
On the day of Akaten’s sentencing, Mallory again insisted that I should be present. One of Orlando’s underlings brought me a message. I would be collected by one of the queen’s servants at the appointed hour.
Everyone met in the Hall of Judgement - I had never seen the galleries so packed with curious faces. I stood once more among Mallory’s lesser staff, high on her private balcony. I felt light-headed and slightly nauseous. The chamber tilted before my eyes.
Alofel sat on his throne, surrounded by his advisers. His face looked like it was carved of stone, but I thought I could see the bewilderment and horror beneath his facade. He was wondering, as I was, how all this had happened, how it had got so out of control. Now, he had supreme power over life and death, yet no power at all. Things were expected of him. He must perform. At the end of all things, he must be king before he could be a man. The crown must take precedence over love.
Akaten was brought in, his hands bound before him. As I looked at him, a shred of emotion came back to me. For a moment, my heart seemed to squeeze itself of blood, but I forced myself not to look away. He looked small between his guards, and so thin. His hair was a dusty rag down his back. Someone read out the charges and then announced that Akaten had been found guilty of treason, of plotting against the king’s life. He did not stir himself to contest these accusations. How can anyone believe it? I thought. Look at him. He’s pathetic.
Then Alofel spoke: ‘Akaten, the sentence of the crown is this. You will be taken from this place, unto the executioner’s yard, and there offer up your life in penance for your crimes.’
Akaten raised his head then. I could not see his face, but I did not envy Alofel having to look at it. ‘You are all barbarians,’ Akaten said. ‘You have abused me, and my people will not forget this.’
Alofel made a curt gesture with one hand. ‘Take him away.’
Akaten struggled a little as the guards attempted to turn him round. Perhaps at that moment he realised he was about to die. I saw his eyes frantically scanning the gallery. I knew what he was looking for. I wanted to run but was held fast in the press of curious bodies.
Akaten saw me among the crowd; our eyes locked. His face was that of a lunatic, without reason or feeling. He uttered a string of obscenities in Mewtish, among which I recognised my name. Then the guards began to drag him from the hall.
‘Darien!’ he screamed. ‘You have cursed yourself! It was me in the shrine! It was me! Now you send me to my death! The goddess will not forgive you!’
I could not move. Mallory’s people all looked at me with interest, perhaps expecting me to make some last retort. But I could do nothing. Mallory, leaning forward in her seat at the front of the balcony, did not even turn her head to glance at me.
The echo of Akaten’s wails resounded around the chamber for several minutes. Alofel stared at the doors through which he’d passed. I realised then that within minutes the person I loved beyond all others would be dead. The axe would fall. His perfect head would be severed from his body. I could not bear it.
The pieces of the body would be shipped back to Mewt. I wandered around in a daze, barely able to recognise face that I knew. Even the boys kept their distance from me, watching me with morbid interest, but realising the sport of taunting me would no longer satisfy them. I was broken now, truly broken, not even allowed the dignity of retreat. The palace, which I had loved, became the realm of hell.
One day, Porfarryah sought me out. Perhaps she felt concern for me, or like all the others, only curiosity. ‘You should have poisoned him when you had the chance,’ she said.
‘Yes…’ I sighed.
‘I can’t bear this,’ she said.
I glanced at her. ‘It could easily have been you.’
‘I know.’
So she visited me regularly, attempting to revive the friendship we had once had. I think she was superstitious about what had happened to me, and sought to appease the gods by trying to help me. But she could not. I no longer had the strength even to appreciate her gesture.
Some weeks after Akaten’s execution, I asked permission from the keeper of the harem to visit Phasmagore. I needed the solace of the temple, the quiet wisdom of the priestesses, and did not intend to visit the inner chambers. Porfarryah accompanied me and we went to make offerings in one of the shrines together, a gift of twisted flowers laid upon an altar. Tourists thronged around us. I stared at the inscrutable countenance of the goddess, robed and chaste in her nimbus of incense, and said to Porfarryah, ‘I have to go to the Shrine of Bestowing.’
She looked at me anxiously. ‘Darien, wait. Leave it a while.’
I shook my head. ‘No. Now.’
‘I will wait at the portal for you,’ she said.
When I entered into the tunnel of veils at the entrance to the shrine, it was as if I’d stepped back in time. Dreamily, I hoped that by doing this, I could somehow erase all that had happened over the last few months. When I came out again, I would find myself in early summer, and Akaten would just have arrived at the palace.
It seemed that it was the same priestess sitting fanning herself with a palm frond in the ante-chamber. She gave me the pastille and I swallowed it. Everything happened just the same. I went out into the darkness, swallowed by the thick shrouds of scented smoke. I found myself face to face with the naked goddess, who gestured for me to pass onwards. I went into a small chamber and sat there upon the cushions, waiting for the one who would come to me.
A shape appeared in the doorway, limned against the light. All around me, a thousand panels slid back in the walls. He came towards me and I stood up. Yes, it was happening, the magic of the shrine was working. I held out my arms
to him, murmured his name. Come to me, come to me. He did so.
I could only see his eyes, which were lit by a band of light. ‘Darien,’ he said. ‘Don’t you know that I will always be here waiting for you.’
I took his face in my hands. ‘Beloved. Peace.’
I leaned forward to kiss him, but he crumpled before me. I was confused, for I still held his head between my hands. Then I realised. A body lay at my feet, its severed neck gouting blood. I held only a head in my hands, a head whose mouth murmured, ‘Kiss me, Darien, kiss me!’
I began to scream, and flung the head away from me. It hit the wall and then rolled across the floor, its accusing eyes still staring up into my face. ‘But you love me,’ it said.
I remember nothing more.
That was three years ago. The severe decline I suffered after my visit to the shrine meant that I could no longer live at court. Visiting dignitaries had no desire to bed a gibbering lunatic, even if he had once been the favourite of the king. The keeper of the harem, who had some mercy, arranged for me to be cared for in a monastery, in the hills above Tarnax. I was ill for a long time, and my sanity returned to me only slowly. I was hidden away, an embarrassment, forgotten by all. I was lucky. Yes. I could have lived out my days in the palace as a shunned nobody, an outcast. Here, at least, I have found a kind of peace.
These days, I think to myself, but I am still a young man. Is this all my life is to be? I could run away, no-one would stop me, but where to?
Now, I work as a servant in the garden and the kitchens of the monastery. It suits me, for I do not need to talk to anyone except to discuss my duties. The monks are kind, but they know I am not like them. I have no faith. Challis Hespereth chose to champion Akaten; me she despises. Some weeks ago, I spoke to the Abbot here, and told him my story. I needed his opinion. He nodded slowly, then told me that he believed I had hallucinated in the shrine, my guilt and fear had driven me insane. I know this is probably correct, but another, less rational part of me still doubts. Throughout my relationship with Akaten, I had wanted to know whether or not he’d been the one who’d come to me in the shrine, and only at the end did he admit to it, when it was too late.
The Thorn Boy Page 9
