He lowered his head, and when he raised it again, Hemarchidas saw that he had been crying again.
“Do you still admire me?” Anaxantis asked with a sarcastic undertone. Then, shrugging, “You wanted to know. Now you do... This is what I am. I can't escape it and I won't lie to myself or try to find excuses for it. Neither will I lie to you. Nobody, least of all me, would blame you if—”
“Stop right there,” Hemarchidas said decisively. “I love you. I love you with all my heart and with all that I am. There is nothing, nothing at all about you that I am not prepared to accept. Nothing that I would be ashamed of to share with you. Do you have more horror stories? Bring them on. Try as you may, you can't make me hate you. Do you have more examples of what kind of monster you are? Lay them on me. I dare you. You can't make me despise you. You forget that I know you. You are not dirty. You are not guilty. You are not worthless. You are no monster. So, you are not perfect. Big surprise. I don't care. I don't give a damn. You are my friend, I love you, and I will take you for what you are, you and all the baggage you bring with you. Did you think me so narrow minded? Did you think I wasn't big enough to stomach this? Did you think my friendship came with conditions? Well, it doesn't. And yes, I still admire you. Even more, if that were possible. For how do you live with all that? How do you keep standing? How do you keep functioning? How do you manage to keep sane? How is it you can still care for other people? How is it you can still feel compassion? How do you do all that? And all the while you have a war to prepare for and you're making an excellent job of it too.”
Anaxantis pressed himself against Hemarchidas.
“Oh, Hemarchidas,” he thought desperately, “why couldn't it have been you? You would have called forth far better things in me. Now I am hurting you, because I am bound to this contaminated love that keeps smoldering in me.”
“Do you mean that?” he whispered.
“Of course I do.”
“It's just... sometimes I am so afraid that it will overwhelm me. That not only I will grow to like it more and more, but that I will... need it.”
“I don't believe that. All I have ever seen of you points in the opposite direction. You've told me that you learned it from your mother. To always be true to your word.”
“My word is the only thing I truly have. She was right.”
“Exactly. You swore to get back at him and that is what you are doing. That... other thing is a side effect, and it only applies to your rapist. My guess is that it will disappear with him.”
Anaxantis frowned.
“I so hope you're right. And meanwhile?”
“And meanwhile you make do. Like the rest of us. I for one would be happy to know how you kept going until now. How do you do it?”
“Deal with all this, live with myself, you mean? I honestly don't know. I stand often enough at the abyss of my soul, asking that same question, looking down in the dark crevices where the black monsters dwell on the bottom. They gaze up to me and I look them in the eyes. ‘This also you are,’ they say, and I almost fall into the void.”
“And then?”
Anaxantis shrugged.
“And then? I turn around and go do what needs to be done. What else is there?”
“So why are you asking me questions if you know the answer already,” Hemarchidas smiled.
“By the Gods, there are things, far, far less serious, I would never tell anybody, living or dead, and he laid his very soul bare for me to stare at. Never again can I say that he doesn't trust me. He has laid his honor in my hands.”
They sat for a long, long time like that, with Hemarchidas keeping his arms protectively around Anaxantis. A strange, soothing peace descended over the young prince. At long last he tugged at Hemarchidas's arm.
“Come, let's go back. I have no time for this. As you said, I've got a war to prepare for.”
“I changed the sheets on your bed, like you asked,” was the first thing Ehandar said when, a few days after his long talk with Hemarchidas, Anaxantis entered his room.
He went over to the bed and took his time inspecting it. Then he nodded and smiled.
“Very good. I'm so proud of you,” he said cheerfully. “You're really getting proficient at this, you know. Very, very good.”
Ehandar accepted the praise with gratitude. He was happy to have pleased his brother. Anaxantis came to him and rubbed his body against his, embracing him and planting a light kiss on one of his shoulders. Then he took a step back and pointed to his mantle. Ehandar unclasped the garment and hung it in the wardrobe.
“I'll have your foot bath ready in a minute,” he said while he ungirded Anaxantis's belt. “You must be tired. Maybe you'd like to go sit in the chair meanwhile?”
Anaxantis did so, and a minute later Ehandar came back with a basin full of warm water and towels. He was careful to carry the towels over his arm and to not drape them over his shoulders. He didn't want any misunderstandings. He sat on his knees and heels beside Anaxantis's feet and started unlacing his boots. When he had taken them off, he guided his feet, one by one, in the warm water. His brother sighed contentedly and this also made him happy.
“The water isn't too warm?” he asked smiling and looked up.
“No, it's just perfect, exactly what I needed after such a long day, Tarno. Thank you.”
Ehandar gave him a surprised look.
“Tarno?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. Remember I said I would give you a name? Well, I finally decided upon a new one for you. We can't have you being nameless, if only for the administration.”
“I... I thought that was only a formality... but that between us...”
“No, I think it's better we use it too. After all, it is your real, in fact, your only name.”
“Still... How did you come by it?”
“It's just something I made up. I liked the sound of it. It's also kinder. One thing less to remind you... of earlier. Anyway, I have decided, and Tarno it will be. I have already notified the administration. I couldn't keep referring to you as the person that lives in my room, now, could I?”
“I suppose,” Ehandar said hesitatingly while getting up.
Anaxantis rested his hand upon his head.
“Wash my feet, Tarno, will you?”
“Yes... yes.. of course,” Ehandar said. “Let me get a sponge and soap.”
Anaxantis removed his hand.
“From tomorrow on, bring them together with the water and towels.”
“Is there no end, no end at all, to this?” Ehandar though miserably while he went to the bathroom. “Now he has taken my name. I've given it up myself, but I thought that was only for the outside world. What's next? How much of this can I take? And Tarno. Of all names, Tarno. I know I am not exactly a scholar, but I managed to translate the ancient Boltac inscription on the dagger, didn't I? Does he think I can't even remember the meaning of a simple, common word like ‘tarno’?”
He sat down again beside Anaxantis's feet and started washing them.
“Anaxantis,” he began tentatively, “do we really have to—”
“Wait,” Anaxantis interrupted him calmly, smiling down upon him. “Do you really think it is appropriate for you to call me by my given name?”
He placed one wet foot unceremoniously on Ehandar's thighs.
“Well, do you?”
“How else should I call you?” Ehandar asked, looking up with big, round, wondering eyes.
“Why not what everybody else calls me?”
Ehandar started drying his foot. Then he realized what his brother wanted from him.
“You want me to call you...”
He couldn't finish his sentence.
“Why not? General Tarngord doesn't seem to mind and he is the commander of my army. Do you want to compare yourself with a general?” He smiled indulgently. “Seriously? Look at you.”
“No... no... of course not,” Ehandar stammered while taking Anaxantis's other foot in his lap.
> When he had finished drying it, he wanted to stand up, but Anaxantis once again laid his hand on his head, and kept it there.
“Stay,” he said, smiling friendly. “I know this is new to you, but I'm here to help you. Let's practice, yes?”
“Yes,” Ehandar said, feeling everything in him revolting and at the same time realizing how dangerous, how very, very dangerous revolt would be.
“Yes who?” Anaxantis asked softly.
Ehandar let his head sink down.
“Yes... yes...,” he whispered.
“Yes who?” Anaxantis repeated patiently and as softly as the first time.
“Yes... my... my lord,” Ehandar murmured almost inaudible, slurring the words.
“Better... Louder now.”
Ehandar remained silent, his head bowed down, with Anaxantis's hand still resting upon it.
“Come... you can do it... I know you can do it,” Anaxantis coaxed him on.
“Yes... my lord,” Ehandar said, somewhat, but not much, louder.
“Again and louder.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Better. Much better. Now, look up. Look at me. Look in my eyes... and again.”
Ehandar looked up, deeply humiliated and his eyes moist with tears. With some difficulty he forced himself to look in his younger brother's expectant eyes.
“Yes, my lord.”
Anaxantis patted him on the head, leaned forward and pinched one of his earlobes. Smiling he lifted the earlobe a little bit, forcing Ehandar to tilt his head.
“Very good, Tarno. Very good. I'm pleased with you,” he said smilingly.
He let go of the earlobe and Ehandar remained sitting still.
“What do you say, when I give you a compliment?”
“Thank you... eh... I mean, thank you, my lord.”
“You're welcome, Tarno. Now put those things away.”
When he came back from the bathroom, Anaxantis was standing beside the hearth.
“Come here,” he said.
Ehandar went gingerly up to him. Anaxantis took his hand and guided him before the fire where the flames lighted up his body. When he raised his head he noticed that his brother was gazing at every part of his naked body.
“Let me look at you” Anaxantis said softly, while he glanced up and down at his brother. “Now, turn around... slowly... slowly... stop... right there.”
Ehandar stood with his back at Anaxantis now, waiting for permission to move.
“You're so beautiful,” he heard his brother whisper.
He felt his brother's hand wander down from his neck, over his spine, caressing his backside.
“My beautiful, beautiful boy.” Then after what seemed like several minutes. “Turn further... slowly... yes.”
When he was again facing him, Anaxantis wrapped his arms around him, laying his hands, fingers spread wide, possessively on both his buttocks and pressing Ehandar's naked groin into his own.
“I just realized,” he said with a hoarse, guttural voice, “that it has been a while since I invited you into my bed. Do you want to spend the night with me?”
Ehandar looked up at him.
“Of course, of course, of course I want to spend the night with you. I want to spend every night and every day and every waking and every sleeping moment with you, and you know that.”
“You don't have to,” Anaxantis said in his normal voice, as to an equal or at least a valued collaborator. “I mean it. You're completely free to decide what you'd rather do. I promise, I swear, I won't hold it against you if you were to decline my invitation. There will be no repercussions. No repercussions at all. You have my word. So, don't feel as if you have to.”
Ehandar nodded.
He was totally confused. To hear that voice again. To be spoken to like that and not as if he was a nuisance, an annoying child or a lowly servant. It was like water to one who is dying of thirst. And he felt wanted again. Wanted by his love. By his lord. His lord who was pleased with him. There had been real longing, real desire in his love's voice. So what if... it didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit. They were only words and they were what his love, his demanding love wanted to hear.
What his lord wanted, his lord must have.
He nodded again.
“I'm so glad you're staying,” Anaxantis said, looking coyly, almost bashful and he kissed him on the cheek. “Shall we go to bed then?” he added, taking his hand and smiling happily.
Ehandar looked at him, at the handsome face, the golden hair, at the boy who smiled so genuinely inviting at him, and suddenly it wasn't difficult anymore. This was his love and it was what his love wanted. Therefore, it was easy. It felt natural even.
“Yes, my lord,” Tarno said, smiling contentedly.
Chapter 21:
Warlord
“We are leaving for Dermolhea in three days, guys,” Anaxantis said to Arranulf and Obyann who stood at attention. “Please, take a seat.”
He handed Obyann a parchment.
“This is a list of the pages I want to accompany me. Look it over.”
Obyann glanced at the parchment and handed it at Arranulf, who read it from top to bottom.
“Unless I am very much mistaken, these are all the pages with the highest ranks. Sons of dukes and counts mostly and a few sons of viscounts.”
“Very discerning, Arranulf,” Anaxantis smiled. “Believe me, I have my reasons.”
“So you won't be needing me,” Obyann grumbled.
“What do you mean?” Anaxantis said.
“Yes, what do you mean, Obyann?” Arranulf concurred.
“Well, isn't it obvious. The Ramaldahs aren't dukes or counts, not by a long shot.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Anaxantis said. “I looked it up. The nobility of the House of Ramaldah predates that of many a duke. In fact, the lack of a specific title attests to that fact. Dukes, counts, marquesses, barons... they are all later inventions. Originally there were only lords and commoners. Make no mistake, somebody was called a count because he wasn't as high as a lord, and not the other way around.”
“Humph,” Obyann snorted, but Anaxantis saw that he seemed to grow an inch or two, and smiled.
“And your name stood at the top of the list, didn't you see?” Arranulf said. “Besides, I wouldn't think of going without you.”
“Yeah, must have looked over it,” Obyann said.
“So, guys,” Anaxantis resumed, “I count on you to see to it that the pages will be at their best behavior and dressed at their finest. Which shouldn't be too difficult, as their uniforms are brand new. Don't forget, this will be the first time you will have to perform at a public function. And the Amirathan Provincial Council is very, very important for our plans. In fact, everything depends on a good outcome of that meeting.”
“We'll do everything in our power to keep them in line, my lord,” Arranulf said.
“Oh, and another thing,” Anaxantis said smilingly. “There are still more pages coming. There seems to be an endless supply of them. I expect that there will be over sixty in a few months. So, I have decided to set aside a complete unit of barracks for you guys. That includes a general's barrack, which I have decided will be your place of residence. It will set you aside from the others and give you some privacy.”
Both Obyann and Arranulf smiled proudly at the announcement.
“Come on, let's move immediately,” Obyann said to Arranulf, the moment they left the war room. “I'm a light sleeper and I could live to be a hundred without ever having to hear a pampered count's son snivel for his mother again or having a baronet keep me awake with his snoring.”
After having explained the new arrangement to the twenty or so pages, they began packing their belongings. Rahendo had all the while looked nervously around him. Finally he scraped all his courage together and went up to Arranulf.
“You aren't leaving me, with... with them, are you?” he asked slightly panicking.
Arranulf looked up, saw his sad, droopy face and smiled en
couragingly at him.
“It will be all right, Rahendo,” he said.
“No, it won't. Look at them. They're so big. And strong. Oh no, it will definitely not be all right.”
Arranulf looked around. He saw two big guys snickering and glancing furtively in Rahendo's direction from time to time. It was obvious they were up to no good and Arranulf knew that it only took one ringleader to turn a peaceful group into a pack of hungry wolves. Rahendo began to look more and more like the hare they planned to have for dinner. The constant twitching of his nose only reinforced that image.
He tugged at Arranulf's sleeve.
“Can't I come with you guys?” he insisted, trying not to whine. “You two have many duties. Meanwhile I could take care of the barrack. Clean it and so on. It would be like having your own page, wouldn't it?”
“I'll have a word with Obyann,” Arranulf said.
“No, no, no, no, Arranulf, no,” Obyann growled. “Are you bonkers? Have you lost your head? No. The guy sneaks into your bed. In the nude, if you please. Besides, a little scrap won't hurt him. It might even make a man out of him. Grow some hair on his chest. No. And that's final.”
“They're going to eat him alive, man,” Arranulf said. “Look at them. Some of them seem vicious bullies who—”
“Bullies? I hate bullies. They remind me of Ruldo. Have I ever mentioned him? He's barely human. He's the bully that bullies bullies and one of these days I'm going to... Ooh, I hate that guy.”
He looked around. Rahendo found it safer to join them and followed with his eyes where Obyann was looking. He was debating whether he would present his case again, when he saw the surly boy go to his bed and worm himself between the head of it and the wall, pushing it forward.
“Don't stand there gawking with your mouths open, ladies,” Obyann muttered, “and help me with this bed. Or were you thinking of letting me carry this thing to our barrack by myself?”
“Oh, oh, oh, I'm coming with you guys, I'm coming with you guys,” Rahendo exclaimed in a rare outburst of enthusiasm.
The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse) Page 36
