Velvet

by Xavier Axelson

  Once settled in the kitchen, and the drinks were poured, I sat opposite Therese.

  I could tell she now struggled to regain her composure after her outburst. She fidgeted and reached appreciatively for Claus standing by her side.

  “Shall we have a toast?” Claus entreated, one hand on Therese’s shoulder while the other raised his mug.

  “To King Duir, long may he reign and long may his men bugger my ladies!” Therese toasted as she brought the mug to her lips.

  “Ahh, but you should have been a poet!” I commented.

  “To the devil with poetry! I find my trade much more…” She let a hand drop to the curve of Claus’s rear. “Creative.”

  “Indeed, now tell me quickly your other business before I must retreat to court, where I am sure to be missed.”

  “Where is Sylvain? It is with him I have business.” Her eyes settled on the pack containing the velvet. “How goes your work on the coronation garments? Surely, you must have something quite splendid in mind.”

  “Sylvain is out,” I answered steadily. I did not move the pack or give any indication I’d seen her obvious curiosity. I adopted the old adage of “least said, soonest forgotten,” and chose to ignore the second question.

  “Pity,” her eyes lingered another moment on the pack.

  “Or perhaps Sylvain is lucky,” I interjected. “I can’t imagine what task you would have him attempt if he were here.”

  “I have been given the gift of four peacocks.” Her eyes darted from the pack to my face in anticipation of my reaction to this strange news.

  “Peacocks? Why in the world would you be given peacocks?” I asked, half laughing as I tried to imagine the birds strutting through the halls of Therese’s brothel.

  “In payment for services rendered, of course,” she answered smugly. “They will have the reign of the inner courtyard and are quite beautiful, but I cannot get near the creatures. I seek his advice on those I intend to keep as pets.”

  “What do you mean to do with the birds you shan’t keep as pets?” I asked curiously.

  Her smile curved into a wolfish grin and her eyes gleamed greedily. There has always been something ferocious about Therese when it came to consuming those things she thought above her stature.

  “Why, we shall feast upon them, of course!” she exclaimed. “Why shouldn’t the ladies and I know some creature comforts? An occasional scrap of fine meat is more than due us!”

  Hearing her talk in such a way brought to mind something Sylvain said after first meeting Therese: She is glutinous and greedy, and worse, desperate. If a more dangerous combination exists, I cannot think what it is.

  Now I realized precisely what he meant.

  “I will be sure and tell Sylvain of your visit.”

  Before she answered, she raised a finger to her lips, and leaned her chin on the heel of her hand.

  What was she thinking? I wondered. I despised the smirk I saw forming behind her hand.

  She let her hand fall. “It would be most appreciated. Their current temperaments are not suited to my courtyards, and I am anxious to tame them.”

  “Of course,” I answered, and drained my mug in hopes of ushering the departure of my guests.

  Therese nodded appreciatively, drained her mug, then stood to leave.

  “Since you are in court, Sir.” A shy smile appeared on Claus’s lips. “I am wondering if I may ask a humble favor?”

  I looked from Claus to Therese, and seeing an unexpected twinkle in her eyes, realized there were ulterior motives to their visit. It was my folly to not see through the charade earlier. Rare were the occasions Therese visited without some secret agenda.

  Taking my silence as permission to continue, Claus rushed forth his request. “My brother is a musician of the highest caliber. As you are talented with tailoring, so is Seton with the lute. May there be any chance you might persuade the King to hear him?”

  I narrowed my eyes at such a bold query. Therese must have sensed my indignation for she quickly took up his cause.

  “Surely Duir would hear the man. He is gifted beyond measure, Virago, and you know I would never bother with such a thing if I wasn’t certain he were worthy of the court.” She found her fan and whisked it before her bosom. “Have you given much thought to what the court will look like once Duir wears the crown and the coronation is complete? I’ve thought of it quite a lot.”

  “I’ve no doubt you have,” I replied sarcastically. “Perhaps he will make you his queen and I will be made a duke, or better, a lord.”

  Therese laughed. “You’re not a bit of fun anymore, Virago.”

  I caught Claus looking admiringly at Therese. “Ah well, you have plenty of other amusing trinkets to delight you. Now, really, I must say farewell. I am expected in court.” I walked encouragingly over to the door.

  Would they never leave? I wondered and thought I caught Therese’s eyes lingering on the pack.

  “Come, Claus,” Therese cooed. “Virago’s duty to his king outweighs our company. Duir mustn’t be kept waiting.”

  Claus took Therese’s outstretched hand and accompanied her to the door.

  I opened it wide. Therese passed, a smile lingering on her lips.

  “But will you tell the King of my brother?” Claus entreated from the doorway. “Please, Master Tailor. His gift has brought us both to this country. He must be heard!”

  “I will do as I see fit, but make no promises,” I answered vaguely.

  I bowed low to both of them and watched them leave. Not until they were ensconced in Therese’s carriage did I shut the door and lean on the solid wood of the doorframe. My eyes rested upon the pack containing the velvet. It was thrilling to have it near me, hidden in plain sight. I’d grown daring in my short exposure to its tantalizing mysteries. Impetuous behaviors often alluded my work-steady hands and thoughtful mind. Today, however, I would be victim to the thrill of impulse. I spun around, yanked open the door and shouted to Claus.

  “If you wish me to present your brother to the King, I must bear witness to his talents. Send him to me tomorrow and I will decide if his talent worthy of the court.”

  Claus’s head emerged from the open window of the carriage. “You are a fine man!”

  I didn’t wait for further adulation, but closed the door and found my gaze drawn to where the velvet rested.

  “What are you?” I went to the pack, opened it, hands shaking, and exhumed a length of gold velvet from inside. The morning’s sun had merely been the watery memory of light. Now, as it shone through the windows and hit the golden velvet, the world became a true, burning reality.

  “Tell me your secrets,” I begged. My hands caressed the velvet, my fingers sunk into its depths. My eyes searched for a hint of its nature, but saw and heard nothing.

  Had I truly expected a reply?

  “I’ve gone mad.” I folded the velvet when another impulse hit me.

  Must I tell Duir of all the velvet? Why should I tell him everything at once?

  There was no answer, and no answer meant no reason. I removed the gold and crimson from the pack.

  “I must be mad.” The words repeated, took on a sing-song quality. In doing so, they seemed closer to the truth.

  Chapter 5

  A carriage did not wait for me this day, and as Sylvain had taken our only horse, I walked the streets. I did so with some trepidation, considering the treasure I carried. The town bustled with trade, noise, and excitement of the pending coronation. There were foreign visitors, and the alehouses were doing a brisk trade. A general sense of unease mingled with the excitement in the air. People were restless. Duir’s coronation would be the one thing capable of resolving their worry. Even as I thought this, I saw a skirmish break out between several men. Luckily, there were guards about, and the dispute died before it truly took root. I clasped the pack closer to me and had passed the now dispersing crowd that gathered around the fight when a grand rosewood carriage drew up and slowed by my side.

&
nbsp; “Aye there, Virago!”

  I stopped only when I saw a familiar bald head lean out, followed by a swift rapping on the carriage walls for the driver to halt, and the horses came to an abrupt stop.

  “Get in out of the street!” Briar, a close friend and member of Duir’s Privy Council, beckoned to me and swung the carriage door open for my ascent.

  I knew Briar well as his father had been King Killian’s most trusted advisor and once friend to my father.

  “How is your father?” I asked once settled across from Briar.

  Briar rapped on the wall of the carriage and answered only after we started to move. “He’s as well as can be, the illness has made him forgetful and unsteady on his feet. It is unlikely he will return to court.”

  “I’m sad to hear it. He will be sorely missed. He is an irreplaceable piece in this kingdom’s court.”

  “Duir must be content with my counsel. I assure him my father’s wisdom has rubbed off,” Briar returned with a sly smile. “I have nothing to stop wisdom from entering my head. Duir should be glad of my baldness.”

  Briar had always shorn his hair to the scalp, and now as I studied his face, I couldn’t imagine him with a full head of hair. The strength of his face bore the baldness not as a quirk, but as an additive to his makeup. His crooked nose bore a bump on its bridge, the result of many street fights. His eyes were wide, blue, and squinted when he laughed. He often stroked his square, jutting jaw when absorbed in concentrated thought or conversation, and the fine, golden stubble that grew there would make a scratchy, papery sound. Today, he wore an open vest of black leather and a white shirt he hadn’t bothered to button past the middle of his chest. A champion jouster, he proved he could bleed with the best of them. I winced at the memory of a recent joust which had knocked him from his horse by a blow to his chest that caused Briar to lay unconscious for several excruciating moments.

  “What were you doing on the street?” Briar asked, resting his hands on his thighs.

  “Thank you for stopping. I am, of course, on my way to Duir with ideas for his coronation vest.” I settled down with a relieved sigh. “And how does the day find you?”

  Briar slid a hand inside the open folds of his shirt. “Ahh, the blasted wound aches. I cannot bear anything touching it, not even the softest of fabrics. Look here.” Briar removed his hand and opened his shirt across his chest to where a long, dark, purple and blue bruise spread from below his right nipple to above his navel. “I must wear my garments open like an old man in dressing gowns. I look a fat fool!”

  “You were lucky to not be killed, Briar. You will not joust for some time, I would guess.” I moved my pack onto my lap, then directed my attentions to the open carriage window and the passing street traffic. I dared not look at Briar’s bare chest. You fool, my mind warned. Look away, think of other things, and keep your truth hidden well!

  “You should take up the joust, Virago, and know the thrill of it.” Briar’s voice cut through my anxious thoughts.

  “Aye, easy for you to say, who doesn’t make their living with their hands and fingers. I am amateur at such sport. For now, I leave the field to you.”

  He smiled, revealing white teeth and a dent in his plump upper lip. “And I will take it from you! Enough of sport. What of Auberon’s marriage to Tienne?”

  “I know only what he himself has revealed, which is little except to say that I am entreated to make his marriage vest and the vests of the men who will stand by him.”

  His smile widened. “It is a surprise he will marry before Duir. Had it not been Lady Tienne of Duir’s family, I would imagine Auberon would be hearing a rant of kingly magnitude.”

  “Indeed, and who will stand by Auberon?”

  “Why Duir, of course, as will Cale and so will I!” he announced in mock surprise. “How can you wonder such things? We are brothers, always of one mind in all we do!”

  “I must plan to be busy, and ought to plan on fitting you all at my shop once the coronation is over,” I answered thoughtfully.

  “Aye, but you’re right, master tailor.” He bowed at the waist. “I will be Auberon’s most humble servant and your most humble model, too. If I were a woman, I would be your whore!” This time he laughed. He nodded in the direction of my sack. “What’s in there? The head of a fool?” He reached for it, but I yanked it out of his reach.

  “Material for Duir’s vest, which will be beyond anything seen before. In fact, I am tempted to make Auberon’s vest and those for Cale and you of the same cloth. You may be all of one mind, but I think I will make vests of different colors for each of you, lest you look like a juggler’s troupe!”

  Before Briar could beg a peek, the carriage stopped. I quickly opened the door, and bowed low to Briar. “I thank you for the ride. I must make my haste to Duir. If all goes well, I will have you by the shop for measuring.”

  * * * *

  “His Grace is indisposed,” Horace, an elderly man who served as Duir’s chief personal attendant barked as I approached Duir’s chambers. The two guards at the doors stiffened.

  “By god, Horace, surely he will see me. Announce me and if he turns me away, I will lap cream in the kitchen like a cat!” I snapped. He doesn’t yet wear the crown and already the tides are turning I thought nastily as Horace glared at me, unmoving. Before I could take up a second tact, a familiar voice boomed from behind the door.

  “For the love of my father, who is it now? The baker or the pie maker?”

  I could tell by Duir’s tone that he’d probably been bothered by every minutiae from the kitchen up in preparation for his coronation.

  Before Horace could stop me, I yelled. “Only the tailor, Your Grace. Pray may I be allowed to enter? I have tidings of your vestments!”

  There was a brief silence followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the door and Duir’s laughter.

  “Only the tailor! Put him in the tower and hang my clothes, I shall be crowned naked!” He opened the door much to Horace’s disgust, wearing hardly more than his own skin.

  “Your Grace!” Horace started to say, but Duir held up a hand.

  “I’ve told you,” he said, his tone full of royal authority. “There are those who are always granted my audience. Surely you have not forgotten Virago is one of them.”

  “No, Your Grace, but surely, you must—”

  “I must do nothing! I am to be King and, as such, I do as I please, not as you or any other man dictates.” Duir winked at me while he berated Horace and I could tell he was fighting his mirth. “Come.” He grasped me around the shoulders. “Tell me everything you are planning and let me be amazed.”

  Behind me I heard the doors close and Horace’s shrill commands at the two long suffering guards.

  Duir had not moved into his father’s chambers, for they were being made ready for him. As we walked and Duir talked of his immediate frustrations, I wondered how many days we spent as children playing in these rooms. While they had changed some, the bones were the same, and once Duir removed to the king’s chambers, they would be lost to me forever.

  “Enough of this drudgery. What do you care of political dramas? Show me what you have brought in your mysterious pack. Horace must be certain you plan to kill me with its contents. I only hope you have chosen a swift death for your old friend Duir.”

  “King Duir,” I corrected him as I found my favorite seat by the window and undid the pack.

  Duir sighed loudly, then went to the large window looking out over the gardens we both loved. “Ahh, so it will soon be. I will be attended by everyone and surrounded by people all the time.” He folded his arms across his chest and cast his eyes upward at the sky as if thinking of something far away.

  I remained silent. Duir was rarely morose, and when he was, it foretold trouble.

  He must have felt my unease, for he left the window and a familiar smile spread across his handsome face.

  “Ignore me, friend, and show me what you have brought.” He wore only braises and t
he cotton had been woven so fine, I could see the outline of his cock and the dark thatch of hair above it.

  I went and gathered the velvet-heavy pack to my lap. “The strangest thing has happened.”

  “Oh, a strange thing? Indeed, show me. I’m hungry for a surprise.” Duir crouched and leaned an elbow on my thigh.

  I could smell his freshly washed skin. Horace had anointed him in an oil of Frankincense and the smell only intensified as he drew closer.

  I swallowed hard, reached a hand inside the pack, and was pleased to find the touch of the velvet quieted my longings.

  “Yes, well, more an odd occurrence. A messenger came to the shop the other day and delivered wares ordered by my father before he died.”

  Duir stared up at me. “What has this to do with me?”

  Instead of answering, I removed the length of purple velvet from the sack and laid it across Duir’s shoulder.

  “This is what I will make your coronation vest from.” I wanted to say more but resisted.

  Duir lifted the fabric from his body and studied its richness. “It feels unlike anything I have known before. What is the name of such magnificence?”

  It was the first time I could remember Duir being awed.

  “It is velvet,” I said in an equally hushed voice.

  He looked from the fabric to me. “It is a shame your father never knew of its arrival.”

  I could only nod when words failed to find my voice.

  “I will wear it in his honor and the honor of my own father, and I will honor you if you make me a garment from it.” Duir took my hand, clasped it in his, and pulled me into his embrace.

  I was grateful when he patted me on the back and released me.

  “Does anyone know of your discovery?”

  I shook my head. “Only my brother and I. I wanted you to be the first. The very moment I saw it, I knew you should wear a vest of purple for your coronation.”

  “You say purple as if there are other colors. Is there more than one hue? How much do you have, Virago?”

  I hesitated.

  Don’t tell…secret…don’t tell him!

  The velvet undulated like a serpent