by Lee Abrey
Everyone was wearing white armbands or ribbons. I wondered about twisting my handkerchief round my arm, but then there would be nothing to blow my nose on. Mother had provided me with spares but those did duty mopping up body fluids in the coach. I paused to clean off a platter with some glace fruit and cheeses. I was almost ready to stop eating before the food ran out, though there was no sign of that, which seemed very decadent. On the farm, I might have some fruitcake and a cup of coffee for morning tea.
The gossip was all about the Crown Prince being assassinated. People were pretending it was a tragedy then saying well, it was for the best, he was a drinker you know. Except the king, he seemed genuinely upset over his son. I didn’t really care as I hadn’t known my cousin once-removed or whatever he was, the late Crown Prince Perry, though I felt sorry for the king.
Despite the scope for embarrassment I could see I’d landed on my feet. Polo Shawcross was in a king’s citadel, surrounded by the beautiful and wealthy. Mother said people were prettier in the capital and I had to agree. Everyone was wearing expensive fabrics that clung to their bodies in fetching ways. The king was quite heavy but didn’t look so, clothes beautifully tailored to flatter him and fool the eye of the onlooker. Though I was careful not to stare, watching everyone was quite fascinating.
It occurred to me that this one time, my parents and Grandmama Daeva were right. Sending me here was a good idea. The Royal Court was exactly where I should be, among my own kind. If I had half the sense I was born with I should probably find a wealthy woman. Not yet, it could wait for a couple of years. For now, I should enjoy life. Wasn’t that what people always said? Sow your wild oats while you’re young, before you’re tied down with responsibilities and a family. As I didn’t want the latter I reminded myself to get in a stock of condoms.
Meantime, time to try some tarts, sweet custard in pastry, topped with various fruits set in jellied glazes. That was it for me, I hoped, and tried not to catch the eye of the man rolling a creaking trolley past, laden with a range of cream-filled cakes and buns. The king was called away and Azrael was busy with a horde of young women trying to chat him up. I wandered about, coffee in hand, pausing to speak to people as politely as I knew how. Most commonly I was asked,
“And whose child are you?” I would explain my mother was a Casterton and they’d nod wisely. Saraia caught my eye from across the room, and smiled gently. With a matching smile, I nodded respectfully back, as befitted a fifteen-year-old boy and not as a lover might. I looked over, saw Azrael, and he saw me. He raised his eyebrows, mimed a smoke and jerked his head. Then he started moving, leaving the girls pouting, and I put down my coffee and went after him.
****
Once out the door, Azrael stopped and waited.
“Hey Polo,” he said, and grinned. I didn’t grin back. I wasn’t angry, just curious.
“Hey Al,” I said, “or should I call you Azrael now?” He gave me a penitent look.
“Sorry I lied back at the library,” he said, “Azrael is my name. Please don’t call me Az, I can’t stand it.” He gave me a cheeky grin. “You can call me Al when you’re mad with me. Come on, we’ll go for a pipe.”
The citadel was designed to awe the visitor but I tried to keep breathing. The corridor we walked along was so ornate and wide that, although larger than life-size statuary and paintings decorated the sides, there was still room to drive a coach down the middle.
There were clusters of chairs for those too exhausted by the distances, tables with little stores of stationery, trays of water jugs with glasses, and so many flowers that the air was heady with their scents. Murals and plasterwork covered the high barrel-vaulted ceiling, the walls disappeared behind paintings and tapestries, and there was a surfeit of gold leaf everywhere. Every so often, a plain white door signalled an entry into the servant ways.
Most of the artworks featured dragons, especially the battle scenes, which meant they depicted events at least seven hundred years ago, before Dragon went to Redoubt.
From even longer ago, a white marble statue of Galaia about to merge with the World, larger than life-size, her decaying beauty covered with a veil, starflowers springing up from her tears, and I remembered the line from the Book of Thet. “And Galaia wept.” The sculpture was in marble, which I found amazing, as the result was almost fluid. How could you make stone look like that?
The tearoom had been spectacular, all blue, gold, and white, the citadel servants bustling about dressed in their livery of various shades of grey edged with red piping, protected by white aprons. The citadel guards wore grey with black trim. It made it easy to spot the guards from Sutherland Castle as they were now wearing all black with green. We didn’t get far before a squad of six caught up with us. Captain Fenric was with them.
“Told you,” he said to Azrael, sounding snappy, “do not go anywhere without us.”
“Oh sorry, Fenric,” Azrael said, “I wanted to get out for a smoke. You met Polo?”
“Aye,” he said, nodding to me, “in a way.”
“Hello again,” I said, wondering if I should offer my hand. He stood over me slightly, and I didn’t.
“Just so you can’t say you didn’t know,” said Fenric to me, “his father was killed and we don’t know if there’s anyone else involved-”
“That’s nobody’s fault except Grandpa’s,” said Azrael, and turned to me. “During the interrogation he got too close to the assassin, who was chained. The man got one of his chains round Grandpa’s neck.”
“No?” I said.
“Aye,” said Fenric, “nearly strangled Himself, and I had to clout the man, so we don’t know if his story about working alone was true, since he’s dead now.” I whistled.
“I was wondering what happened to the king’s eyes,” I said. They nodded.
“He’s also got bruising round his throat,” Azrael said, “that’s why he’s wearing a scarf.”
“Anyway,” said Fenric, “Azrael here needs protection, always. So you two don’t sneak off.” The heir to the throne looked innocent. “He’s as slippery as an eel, Polo, so I’ll appeal to you. Encourage him to get us before you go anywhere. Or believe me, anything happens to him, I’ll hunt you down.” I believed him. “We won’t interfere with what you do,” Fenric went on, “but we have to protect Sendren’s only heir.”
“I’m not a child, Fenric,” said Azrael. Fenric rolled his eyes.
“Technically, Highness, you are. You can’t even inherit for two years. And your father’s not in the ground yet so I’ll thank you to try to stay alive until your next birthday.” Azrael laughed.
“That’s not long,” he said, but turned back to the big man, “we just wanted to go for a smoke. I’m completely straight and coping with the Hangers On is doing my head in. Sorry I didn’t call you, I wasn’t thinking. Come on, I want to get out into the garden.”
The bodyguards insisted we sit somewhere secure, which meant not overlooked and where they could guard any entrances and exits. We ended up in a walled garden with several large trees and only two entrances, small enough for the men to clear. Then the bodyguards withdrew to where they could see but not hear us. We sat under a tree on a bench, Azrael packing up a pipe. He lit it up, handed it to me.
“Suppose you’re wondering why I lied to you?” he said, and I nodded. “Normally, I’m allowed to wander alone inside castle grounds, but outside only with guards. I persuaded them to let me go as far as Beech Wood library. I love the old Yusaf and Dragon artefacts, so it was something I wanted to see.” I nodded. I enjoyed the library’s historical collections too. “Then there were some death threats,” he said, “and I couldn’t get permission to get back. I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t wait long.” I didn’t mention I had or that hoping he’d turn up, I went back more than once.
“So,” I said, “you lied because?” He smiled.
“I wanted to meet someone as me. Not as Prince Azrael Westwych, Lord of Beechwood, second-in-line to the throne.” He sighed. “As
I then was. On Saturday, I’ll be declared Crown Prince Elect of Sendren, and affirmed as Lord of Beechwood, though I won’t be duke until I’m eighteen. As for king, well, I’m praying that Grandpa Theo lasts a good ten years or more.”
“Azrael,” I said, “who you were with me, is that who you are?” He nodded.
“Aye, I only changed my name.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Polo, I was dreading the citadel.” I was flattered and pleased.
“Well, truth be told,” I said, “I’m glad you’re here too. I don’t know a soul.” I handed the pipe back to him.
“I know some of them,” he said, “I’ve spent a month or so here most summers. Father used to get leave, come to Peterhaven, and we had to come here to see him.” I frowned.
“He didn’t like the duchy?”
“He hated it.” Azrael tapped the finished pipe out and packed another. “He was only out of the army a year and dead drunk for most of it. Mind you, until he left the army, Father was tanked every time I saw him.” He paused. “I may ban booze when I’m king.” I smiled but he was serious. I grimaced.
“I don’t think prohibition works, especially when they can get it legally in the kingdom next door. It encourages smuggling. When anything popular is banned, people go underground. And criminals get involved.” He passed me the pipe.
“Aye,” he said, “I remember reading that the Yusaf had mindweed banned for years until they realised nearly everyone on the planet was smoking it and they’d made most of their citizens into criminals.”
“Better to make the taxes on it come to you,” I said. He laughed.
“True, according to Grandpa. The taxes on alcohol and mindweed bring in sizeable revenue.” I smiled.
“I can’t believe you’re a prince,” I said, and he smiled back.
“You thought I was just ordinary?”
“Something like that,” I said and he laughed again. “You had very good mindweed, and with your eyes, you weren’t quite ordinary.” He nodded.
“I’m really sorry I lied.” I shrugged.
“Guess I can see why,” I said.
“It’s alright?” he said. I smiled.
“Aye,” I said, “it’s alright.”
****
We finished two pipes, then I said I’d better find out where my quarters were. Azrael said he’d come too, so we collected the guards and headed for the citadel administrator’s office. It was a twenty-minute walk. There was so much to see that I was feeling a bit dizzy.
The mindweed helped, took the edge off my feelings of panic, made me feel like I could get through whatever came at me. It did make me want to stop and just stare at the gorgeous decor. Especially I wanted to touch the magnificent carvings in wood and marble and the rich fabrics used to upholster everything, and to examine more closely the fabulous paintings, many of them portraits of past kings, queens, and heroes.
Finally we reached a very grand counter, where gold lettering announced Administration. It was indicative of the decor that the counter was right next to the long corridor that we’d walked down from the entrance, and I must have walked right past on the way to morning tea, but hadn’t seen it. My attention was taken at the time by a statue of Thet that stood opposite the front desk, which I was literally knee-high to. The god had a small dragon in one hand, a life-size man in the other. Azrael nudged me to get my attention.
“Good morning, mistress,” I said to the woman behind the counter, “I’m staying here and I don’t know where exactly. My name’s Polo Shawcross.”
“Polo Shawcross,” she said, looking in a large ledger, “yes lordship, I have your keys here. You’re in this building. Has anyone given you a guidebook yet?” Lordship or ladyship was what the Blood were called. Master or mistress was the polite way to address a peasant.
“No, miz,” I said, “that would be useful.” The guidebook had a series of maps that folded out in the back, and she found Citadel, First Floor then marked my room with an X.
“Up a level, that is,” she said, “this is the ground floor you’re on.”
“I think you’re near me,” said Azrael.
“Aye, Highness,” said the woman, “next door. Himself thought it would be nice for you to be near each other, seeing you’re both new to Peterhaven.”
****
Chapter 9 – I Land on My Feet
After a brisk fifteen-minute walk, Azrael left me at my room and said he’d be back in time for lunch. My room, or more properly, my suite, was amazing. There was a hallway big enough for couches either side, then the main reception room was simply massive. Sumptuous furnishings and my own belongings scattered around in a way that was at once thoughtful and heart-warming. There was even a stack of presents from Mother, Father, and Grandmama Daeva, ready for my birthday.
I had a servant, Bernard, a heavy-set man with a completely impassive expression. I admired the place and the beautiful appointments but was hitting overload. Even I could tell mine was a very desirable address, so close to the Royal Family. It was so much more than I expected. I thought mine would be an attic room, maybe a dormitory shared with some other boys, not this.
Bernard threw open double glass doors that led outside to a wide private balcony, with a grapevine and espaliered fruit trees on a trellis over it, everything budding. There was a very wide balustrade, fit for lying full-length on, though of course, Bernard told me solemnly, one should avoid falling off.
I peered over the edge, resolving to take that advice as the garden below was close to sixty feet down. Bernard listed the kinds of fruit I could pick come summer. Strawberries tucked into the flowerpots would be first, already brought along in cold frames, on the espaliers were peaches, pears, and other stone fruit. I listened while trying to take in the panorama. Below and around me were pretty gardens, emerald lawns, sunken seating areas, ponds, rivulets, and more buildings faced with the beautiful green marble shot with gold. Everything was nestled in foliage and alive with birds.
Part of the view was the very picturesque North Tower where Saraia was staying. Topped with a conical copper dome, it matched the towers studding the larger buildings. Below it and more gardens, the top two floors of the new fort were visible, the old fort further down the hill below that, each with its terraces and gardens cunningly fashioned so that in the heart of the biggest city in Sendren, the greenery was enveloping.
We went back inside and Bernard led me through another smaller sitting room into a bedroom big enough to play a game of football in, then a dressing room. I kicked my shoes off and managed to pick them up before Bernard moved in, though I did hand them to him politely when he put his hand out.
“I’ll take those, lordship,” Bernard said, “now, a young man needs a Court wardrobe so it’s all arranged. The tailors will be here this afternoon, as will the cobblers, and the king says to tell you it’s all on the Crown.” I tried to focus on his words but the carpet was the most lush I’d ever felt. Soft. Some design with dragons dancing round the edge. My dressing room alone was as big as half our cottage back at Lower Beech. Bernard’s words sank in.
“On the Crown?” I said.
“Himself pays,” said Bernard, “no need for you to worry your head about it. A present. Now, you’re looking a little overwhelmed, lordship, would you like to be alone?” That was an excellent description of how I felt. I was going to explode with the wonder of it all. I wondered if Mother had known the king would be so generous.
“Um, gods, Bernard, yes. I think I’d like to lie down. Just for a bit.” He nodded sympathetically.
“Of course, lordship, come along. Quite common with first time visitors, the size of the place gets to a person. When I first came here, I nearly fainted from all the gasping I was doing at the sights. Shall I wake you up for lunch?” I managed a smile.
“Um, yes, thank you,” I said, “that sounds good. If Azr- I mean His Highness comes back, will you tell him I’m having a nap? Oh, and could you find me a white armband?” I was proud for remembering
. My parents would be proud too.
“Of course, lordship,” said Bernard. He turned the bed down, I began stripping off, and he took my clothes before I could hang them over the chair next to the giant four-poster bed. I slid between ironed linens as he pulled the curtains. I could hear him bustling about, then I was asleep.
****
I woke with a start. It was dark and I didn’t know where or even who I was. Dreams of sex were still vivid before my mind’s eye. After a few moments the surroundings made sense. It wasn’t completely dark. I threw back the covers then pushed the bed-drapes back. I was naked and didn’t remember getting that way, but memory came back. I slid out of bed, shaking my head at how spaced I’d been.
Judging by the light from outside it was still a gloomy day, and I walked across to see, kneeling on the window-seat. We were so high. The dark wisps of cloud weren’t far above me, reaching for the towers of the citadel. I hadn’t really taken in the immensity of the view before. The bedroom window looked out past the North Tower, the back of the new fort, the old fort mostly hidden below it, and then I could see the citadel wall. Beyond that the city spread out.
After coming through the city I was surprised that it looked thick with trees, some of them in large groves, which must be parks or the grounds of the houses of the rich. I could only glimpse the Peterhaven Wall in a few places, but there were miles of soft distant hills and behind them the peaks of my Beech Wood mountains rose.
Somewhere there was my home. Probably empty by now. There was nothing to go back to. This was my home for the moment, at least for a year and a few months until school finished, so I better make some kind of future. Someone cleared his throat behind me.
