“OK. You're finished for today. Put your things away and go to sleep.”
Ehandar stood up, sweating from the exertion, his knees hurting and red.
“Anaxantis,” he started, miserably and almost crying, “do we real—”
“Not now,” Anaxantis interrupted him coldly. “I said to go to sleep. Can't you, for once, just do as I ask?”
“Yes, of course,” Ehandar whispered hoarsely and quietly went into the bathroom to put the towel and basin away.
“Goodnight,” he said softly when he left for his little room.
There came no answer.
Once in his cell like room, he fell on his still damp straw sack and buried his head as deep into it as he could, to muffle his anguished cries of despair.
“There was nothing there,” Anaxantis thought discontented, while staring at the flames. “There should have been at least some vague sign. A gesture. A look. Anything... but, no, nothing.”
Chapter 20:
Where the Dark Monsters Dwell
“I admit that it is disconcerting,” Anaxantis said, “but I am not going to distrust them right out of hand all the same. I have... I have enough on my plate as it is.”
“That's all good and well,” Hemarchidas replied, “but we must find a way to look deeper into these matters. You're far too trusting, Anaxantis, and as admirable as that is, you mustn't let it cloud your better judgment. There's too much at stake.”
“Oh, you know,” Anaxantis made an almost imperceptible, self deprecating gesture. Then he turned to his friend, smiling. “I missed you, you know? More than two weeks I couldn't speak to you. By the Gods, I've missed that. And you.”
“I missed you too,” Hemarchidas smiled back.
“I missed you more than I can say. It took these two weeks of separation and the long days on horseback to appreciate just how much I miss you when you're not around. You're my addiction, my strange boy, my little prince, and I start slowly withering away when I am not with you. I must hear your laugh, your teasing laugh. I must feel your eyes resting on me. I must hear your worries, your fears and your hopes. I must see your face, your beautiful face, when you're thinking, when you're far, far away... that face can not be an impostor.
I can no longer think of life without you in it. Yet those long days of separation were a good thing. They gave me time to think and I know now that sooner or later I must declare myself. That against all odds I have to let you know that your friendship alone is not longer enough.”
“Did he say anything special about Marak's family?” Anaxantis asked.
“He didn't even mention them. I suppose there was nothing to report. That can only mean one of two things. Either there is nothing to report—”
“Or they are very adept in covering their tracks,” Anaxantis finished his sentence, grinning.
“So, any idea what we should do about this nettlesome problem?”
“Let me think about it,” Anaxantis said pensively. “I don't want to hurt them. Whatever we do must be as discreet as possible, at least until we know with certainty what's what. It's ironic, but the best man we have to investigate the House of Busskal and it's financial imbroglio, is Tomar. To look into the difficulties of the Parmingh brothers we have... nobody.”
They walked on in silence for a while.
“I wish I knew where mother was,” Anaxantis thought. “All rumors agree that she is safe and has escaped Ximerion to some independent city state. Most probably Soranza. But for several reasons I can't take action and try to confirm that. I have not enough people I can confide such a delicate assignment to, and besides, those I do have, I need here. I can't take the risk to endanger her position, or bring her enemies on her trail by rash action. The best I can do is nothing and wait till she sees an opportunity to contact me.
Damn, I could use her. I wish I had access to her resources. Or to aunt Sobrathi.”
“Can you imagine what an eighteen year old boy could have done to merit being kept at the pleasure of the king?” Hemarchidas eventually broke the silence.
“The only thing I know is that grandfather invented the procedure, or rather, revived it and improved upon it, I should say, to get rid of those he estimated a threat to the new dynasty. I had no idea that father still used it. It is meant for those who are suspected of crimes against the state. Of high treason.”
He kept silent for a moment.
“It's ironic to think that we both used grandfather's draconian laws to get to our ends. And worrying.”
“You're nothing like your father, Anaxantis. I am not worried in the slightest.” Hemarchidas smiled.
“Well, maybe you should be. Did you know that father started out as a decent ruler? In the last years of his reign, grandfather had become completely paranoid. A stolen crown apparently doesn't sit easy on the brow. Certainly not the Devil's Crown. Some say he murdered his own sons, father's brothers. Others say father did. However, father managed to gain control of the government. How he did that, I don't know, but for the last years of his reign Portonas III was only a figurehead, while father was the real power behind the throne. He abolished quite a few unjust laws, reformed even more of them and was generally regarded as a blessing for the kingdom. That's also why, when grandfather died, nobody disputed the rights of Tenaxos I to succeed him. He already was the actual ruler. And so the Tanahkos dynasty gained a little more legitimacy. And see to what it has come.”
“Is he serious?” Hemarchidas thought, astonished. “He can't possibly see himself go the same way. He has more compassion than everybody else I know, and he is working tirelessly day and night to protect the people put in his care. Look what he had to surmount. He arrived here a lonely, sick boy with a domineering, stupid brute for a brother and colleague. He survived by his wits and sheer strength of character.”
“The fact that you're even worried about these things tells me you have nothing to fear. Nor do we.”
Anaxantis looked at him with a mixture of fondness and gratitude.
“You always thought far too high of me, Hemarchidas. You're my friend and your opinion in this can't be trusted,” he said, smiling thinly. “But, thank you.”
“What is the difference, really? I also keep someone at my pleasure, without giving him any recourse to aid whatsoever. I had no choice, it was that or killing him outright, and I still may have to do that. Is it like this that corruption sets in? By convincing yourself that there is no other way?”
It was a beautiful winter day. It had been dry for a few days, and a bleak sun stood in the open the sky. Anaxantis and Hemarchidas walked at a steady pace through the woods. Although they had just discussed the difficulties some of their friends were in, they both were in a good mood.
“While we are looking for possible weaknesses, we have a lot of other things that need our attention,” Hemarchidas resumed the conversation.
“You're right,” Anaxantis said. “The work is only beginning. The Landemere Contingent is coming along nicely, mainly thanks to Lethoras, but it is hardly enough. In a few days I'm off to Dermolhea for the Provincial Council. A lot, if not everything, depends on my ability to convince the Council to give me the money we need. I count on Lethoras and Bortram to see to it that things run smoothly here while I am gone. We can't afford to lose a day. Time, my friend, is not on our side. Not anymore. And this winter being so mild doesn't bode well. Spring might be upon us much sooner than we thought.”
They came to a part of the woods where the trees stood far apart and the sun shone through in places. Hemarchidas looked at Anaxantis and when he saw how the sun gave a special gleam to his golden hair, his heart missed a beat. He knew he couldn't keep still any longer. Soon Anaxantis would be gone for another few weeks. He couldn't bear the uncertainty any more. For better or for worse he must broach the subject now. It was the perfect day for it. Things were looking up and even in the encampment of the army the mood was rising. Soldiers liked it when their commanders went to war prepared and saw to it
that they would be in strong enough numbers to face the enemy. Nobody doubted anymore that the young prince knew perfectly well what he was doing.
“Why not now?,” Hemarchidas thought. “Nothing has changed these last months and nothing very much will change in the coming weeks. This may be one of the last quiet moments we have together. He's unattached, we're already good friends, why not take the next step?”
And so, throwing all doubt, and with it all caution, overboard, Hemarchidas decided to declare his love for Anaxantis. He had been preparing for just this occasion for months now. He had played the scene out in his head a thousand times. It was not as if this was just a crush. It was love, a love that tore at his heart, that sometimes lay heavy upon his chest, and he had come to the point where everything was better than this gnawing irresolution. He had steeled himself for doubt, a flat out refusal — nicely formulated, of course — and even for surprise. He only hoped that, if he were to be denied, that it wouldn't be compassion that he would see in Anaxantis's eyes. That, that would be unbearable. For the rest, he was prepared for everything.
Except for what happened.
Anaxantis halted and looked around for a place to sit down. Hemarchidas came up behind him and threw his arms around him, hoping to whisper his carefully prepared, polished words in his ears. Faster than he had ever seen him move, Anaxantis wrestled himself free of his embrace, turned around, drew his dagger and jumped upon a totally unprepared Hemarchidas. Both fell to the ground, Anaxantis on top, holding his dagger under Hemarchidas's chin.
“What did you think, Hemarchidas?” he hissed, his eyes wild and a grim expression on his face. “I have him alone. He's used to me by now. His guard is down. He trusts me completely. Nobody around. What can he do? Well, a few months ago you might have been right. But you see, that's why I insist on training every day. What did you think? He's much smaller than I am? He can't resist me for long?”
Hemarchidas was speechless and totally dumbfounded. He felt the point of the dagger uncomfortably pressing under his chin, and the wild eyed boy who lay upon him, suddenly seemed a dangerous stranger.
“What is it you're after, Hemarchidas? Is it sex you want? You should have said something,” the stranger continued in a biting, metallic voice. “I do sex. I don't do love, but I do sex. And I do it good, Hemarchidas. How would you have wanted me? Docile, melting in your arms, sighing at the mere sight of the awesomeness that is you? Or did you want me playful, daring and maybe slightly perverse? Would you have liked me passive, whimpering and moaning while you fuck me? Or would you rather be fucked by me, forcefully yet tender, while you groan under me until you can't take it anymore? Maybe you want it rougher? Maybe you'd like to slap me around a bit first, before forcing yourself upon me? Or do you like to be dominated by a stern, young master? What is your preference, Hemarchidas? I can cater to your every penchant. I can play them all and I play them well... If it was sex you wanted, you should have said so. You would have gotten it. It would have been all you'd have gotten, though.”
Hemarchidas had silently, with growing horror and revulsion, listened to the rantings of this strange, raving boy that lay upon him. Ignoring the dagger, he threw Anaxantis off of him and jumped upright. The suddenness and the force of his movement made Anaxantis roll a few times over in the half rotten leaves on the ground, some of which stuck in his hair and gave him an even more feral appearance.
“What was that all about?” Hemarchidas shouted, the disgust and hurt undisguised in his voice. “I don't deserve this.”
Anaxantis looked at him as if he had just woken up from a deep coma and had no idea what had just happened.
“What did you think I was doing?” Hemarchidas yelled at him. “I wasn't exactly going to murder you, you little fool. I was simply embracing you. What the fuck. What did you mean with that revolting, sickening fulmination. After all these months, do you know me so little? Do you trust me so little? Is that what I am in your eyes? A predator? Is that why you think I... Argh, bah.”
He stopped suddenly, sickened and offended to the very core of his being. He made a contemptuous half-gesture and turned his back to Anaxantis.
Several minutes neither of them spoke or moved. Then Hemarchidas heard soft crying noises. He turned around and saw Anaxantis, still sitting amidst the dead leaves, with his clenched fists pressed to his eyes, his chest heaving irregularly.
“There's something wrong. What could have provoked this nauseating outburst?”
“Anaxantis,” he began tentatively in a soothing voice. “What—”
“You came from behind,” Anaxantis shouted, sobbing. “I didn't see you. I had no time to prepare.”
“What's he talking about? Time to prepare. For what? For being embraced?”
“What's there to prepare for, you blistering idiot?” Hemarchidas shouted back, angrily. “It's not as if I was going to ravish you.”
“I know that now,” Anaxantis yelled, crying. “You took me by surprise. I just reacted...”
“Reacted? Reacted? You almost killed me in blind rage. You had your knife at my throat.”
“I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Anaxantis wailed bitterly. “I'm sorry...”
His words died out in a soft whimper, and once again he pressed his fists to his eyes.
Hemarchidas had all his life been quick to erupt, but that had never prevented him from keeping his wits about him.
“There's something wrong here. Seriously wrong. He's devastated by what he just did. It's as if he wasn't in control of himself. What could have made him burst out like that?”
He took a few deep breaths. His anger was more caused by the surprise of being attacked by the one he had come to regard as a dear friend and maybe more, than by real indignation. It dissipated quickly under the mounting worry that there had to be something very amiss to have provoked this violent reaction.
“Anaxantis, I would never... not if you didn't want me...” he said in a much calmer tone. “Whatever gave you the idea that I was... that I even could—”
“Because it has happened before,” Anaxantis sobbed loudly. “It has happened before...” he wailed miserably.
“What do you mean it has happened before?” Hemarchidas said, cursing himself immediately after he had let the words escape.
“What do you think it means, genius?” Anaxantis bit at him through his tears.
“But how? When? Who?”
Anaxantis looked at him, undecided whether he should, whether he could tell Hemarchidas what had happened. And how much. He had never told anyone before. He saw that his friend was not angry anymore and had sat down, as if wanting to place himself at the same level. On an impulse he made up his mind.
“You're a good friend. You deserve the truth. I'm sorry to have to say that there are still a few things I have been less than completely honest about. But I'll tell you now. I'll tell you everything.”
He looked at Hemarchidas, who didn't react, but seemed to brace himself, and sighed.
“You remember how I told you that I had fallen sick a few days after we arrived at Lorseth? Well, that was what Ehandar told everybody to explain why I remained in our apartments all the time. Later we decided to keep to that story.”
“Story?”
“Yes, it was but a story. In reality he kept me a prisoner, with an iron chain around my neck, fastened to the wall. Like an animal. For more than three months. Every day he told me nobody had asked for me. That nobody would ever come to rescue me. That nobody was interested. How he could kill me and nobody would even know. Or care.”
“What?” Hemarchidas cried out. “I should have known it. I never did like him, not one bit. I knew he was rotten to the core. The bastard, the miserable, miserable, filthy, dirty bastard.”
He was visibly perturbed. He breathed loudly in through his nose.
“In a way it is good that you didn't tell me this earlier. I would have gutted the vicious dog and laughed in his face while I did it.”
“It doesn't st
op there. I said I would tell you everything. You wanted to know. Well, you shall. So, now hear me out.”
Anaxantis's face became calm and neutral. He spoke in an even, matter-of-fact voice as if he was explaining some boring administrative details.
“One night he came home and I knew immediately that something was wrong. He was distraught in the extreme. He must have had some very bad news, and he had been drinking. I could smell it. I can still smell his breath reeking of wine. After all these months, I can still smell it. He tore my shirt off and tied me, belly down, over the table. There was nothing I could do. He was stronger, much stronger than I was. I never felt more helpless. Until then, that is, because later... Well, he started beating me on my back with his belt. I cried out in pain. I begged him to stop. He didn't. So I stopped crying and I stopped begging. And still he beat me—”
“Anaxantis, stop,” Hemarchidas said in a shocked voice. “You don't have to tell me all this—”
“Yes, I do. I said I would and I shall. He kept beating me, even after my back started bleeding, but I refused to cry anymore. So, he took that as a challenge. He pulled my pants down and started beating me on my bare ass—”
“Please, stop,” Hemarchidas, who had become red, said in a tortured voice. “There are things that nobody ought to—”
“No. You wanted to know why, and what, and who. You shall... He used more force than on my back and this time there was nothing I could do to prevent myself from crying out. Loudly. And I cried. I cried like a little child. It hurt. It hurt terribly. And it was degrading. I thought I couldn't be more humiliated as I lay there being beaten on my bare ass by my brother. I was wrong. He turned me around and yanked my pants from my ankles and, now completely naked, he forced my legs back over my chest. He took his time to look me over. He looked long and hard at my naked body. At my private parts. At my ass. At my asshole. You see, Hemarchidas, it happened all rather quickly and yet it took forever. I was completely defenseless. Degraded. Humiliated. Treated as a thing. And he smiled. Or rather, smirked. He stared deliberately at my most intimate parts and then looked me in the eyes, to make certain I knew what he was doing. And he smiled, Hemarchidas. He smiled. I swear, Hemarchidas, he smiled...”
The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate Page 34
