Velvet

by Xavier Axelson

  “Ahh, what a fine kitchen you have.” His eyes surveyed the space. “How I long to be home in such a place. Claus and I left many months ago and have been wandering by land and sea, seeking our fortunes, but I never forget my home.” Sadness touched his words.

  Had he known much sorrow? The thought of him suffering in any way seemed unthinkable. My heart ached to think he suffered. He was much too beautiful. My mind swirled with such whimsies, so I wondered if I might begin to sweat from sheer excitement. But he is beautiful, I thought as I moved past him and gathered two mugs.

  “Would you join me in ale?” I asked and blushed at the way my voice cracked nervously.

  “Indeed!” he insisted. “But only if you will join me in my bounty. I passed a cart with a largesse of stone fruit and gathered two peaches and four apricots.”

  I was surprised when he undid the buttons of his vest and the fruit tumbled onto the table.

  “You didn’t steal it?” I asked cautiously, this time regaining control of my rogue vocals.

  “Indeed no, I am a musician not a thief. Although if I don’t find a way to earn my way, I may find myself snitching sooner than later.”

  This admission reminded me of Therese and Claus’s request for me to introduce him to Duir. After I presented Seton with ale, we toasted and drank thirstily. Over my mug, I surveyed him. His reddish gold hair hung to his jaw in wavy disarray. His face resembled a statue I saw once in a large book of drawings. Seton’s shoulders were broad, and where Claus had been narrow, Seton was muscle-firm, a musician who could have been an athlete, or a fighter.

  As I lowered my mug, I let my eyes fall and admired the solid muscles of his thighs, which his breeches, dark brown and obviously worn, stretched to contain.

  Could humans create such a being? I mused, or had a divine hand drawn him with some indelible magic ink? Unforgettable magic and stone statues were all fiction to his handsome reality. In his presence, the sweet truth of casual kindness seemed enough to sustain me. He did not know my secrets, and in his eyes I saw nothing of suspicion, only wide-open expanse.

  “Claus says you are a gifted musician.” I went about getting a wooden board and knife on which to place and cut the fruit.

  “Good old Claus. He is an avid supporter of my music. How I wish it had been me who sought your help. It is a coward who has another man beg a favor from a stranger, but I found myself engaged in a private concert the day my brother visited you.”

  I shrugged and prepared to begin cutting the fruit when Seton reached and took the knife from me, his hand brushing mine.

  “Let me do the honor of serving you, and while you eat, I shall play in hopes of winning your favor.”

  “It is not fair.” I relinquished the knife to him and sat across from him at the large wooden table Sylvain and I used to dine. “You ply me with food and music, two tempters of a man’s undoing!”

  “I will undo what is so badly in need of undoing. A man is only a man, he is not divine, he is flawed.” He sliced open one of the large rosy peaches and the clear fluid of its flesh ran from the cut. He put his thumb to his mouth and licked it. “It tastes of its time in the sun.” He dug the stone from the severed half and handed the glistening fruit to me.

  I took it from him and could smell the sweetness of the peach. My pulse quickened. A strange fluttering stirred my stomach. While I pondered the odd sensations of my physical and mental being, I ate the peach, and before I could make sense of anything, Seton began to play.

  I was unsure if it were he playing the instrument or if Seton were merely a pawn in some musical dream brought forth from the depths of creation. The peach dropped from my hand and made no sound. All noise had been sucked away and hidden behind the notes plucked from the lute.

  Seton leaned back so the curve of his bottom touched the edge of the table. His arms caressed the instrument, eyes closed, fingers pulling and strumming the strings like a practiced lover.

  I could only watch, mesmerized by his abilities, but also seduced by the music he created. His music gave voice to what lie hidden within my body, rattled the cage holding my hungry heart, and teased the pained organ with each chord plucked by his fingers.

  There was something about him, something I had never felt before. What was it? Had I become so adept at hiding beneath the surface of my life that I could no longer sense anything but the fear of possible discovery? Was my secret so consuming it clouded everything in uncertainty?

  The look in his eyes as he played, the flash of his throat as he swallowed, and the smile teasing the corners of his mouth when he caught me looking at him. These were all weapons of cruel seduction. I could let him destroy me with this weaponry; be carved open and splayed, let desire spill from me like blood, and lust would replace flesh. I would cease to exist and become a ghost allowed to follow after him in a tormented afterlife.

  Why could I not have him! Why must it be agony?

  Death would only be a kindness from his eyes, mouth, and throat. My fingers dug into my palm, and I dared think the unthinkable.

  Could he want me as I wanted him?

  It couldn’t be, and if it were, how could I know?

  But could he…could he truly want me?

  Before my thoughts could catch up with my heart, the music stopped.

  “You are not impressed?” he asked anxiously, his eyes eager but already accepting defeat.

  I couldn’t think to answer his question. My human voice could not begin to convey how I felt. Action was needed. Unable to contain myself, I stood suddenly from the table and in doing so, knocked my plate of fruit and my mug of ale to the floor. Shock spread across Seton’s face, but I couldn’t resist, could no longer hold the cage together with fear of consequence. Perhaps his music bewitched me, or some demonic lust held sway, but I had to act or risk never sharing what so desperately wanted to be shared.

  He faced me. I could see his erection straining the front of his breeches. Perhaps this was a trick, a way to make me reveal my truth. What if somehow I were wrong? This doubt made me stop. Now I could hear the sounds of the familiar world return and with it came cold realization. I stared hard at the floor. Flies had already begun to buzz around the fruit and spilled ale.

  “I’m sorry,” I started to say and bent to clean up the mess when Seton grabbed me by my shirt and yanked me towards him.

  Unable to bear his eyes on me, I squeezed my lids shut and shook my head sadly.

  “This song is about you,” he whispered and drew me closer.

  My eyes opened in surprise at this admission. “How can it be me?”

  I felt him press a finger to my lips. “The anticipation of meeting you. My fate rested in the hands of this strange tailor. Would he help me, or would I be playing in the streets? I made the music to ease my apprehension, and now meeting you, I know the song was always about you.”

  Seton’s lips brushed my ear, the feathery touch made me quiver.

  “I cannot, we cannot.” My legs began to shake and I thought I could hear the sound of someone approaching outside.

  I hurriedly pushed myself from him. “It is prohibited for one man to have passions for another in this land. The penalty is death, but not before torture,” I stated, staring distractedly at the mess of ale and fruit on the floor.

  “There are other places, other lands in a big world where such things are not forbidden.” His eyes were faraway, his words distant.

  Was he seeing some familiar place? Longing to be on some other shore?

  I felt my heart ache with this need. Could it be we shared some wanderlust?

  Before I could form a response, the voice of Auberon broke in on the moment.

  “Tailor Virago, are you entertaining a lady in your humble abode?”

  I could tell by the noise he was not alone. Auberon entered through the shop and came upon us in the kitchen, a huge smile on his face. Indeed, he was not alone as Cale came from behind him. The two men stopped short when they saw Seton.

  “W
hat goes on here?” Cale asked, coming from behind Auberon, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.

  Cale, the largest of Duir’s men, was fair of eye and possessed the swarthy looks of a foreign sailor who knew the sea and violence. This dark presence made him attractive and valuable in a court prone to possible betrayal and endless mischief.

  “It’s nothing.” I quickly went to Auberon. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in the store to greet you, My Lords, but I was being entertained by a master musician.” I gestured towards Seton. “Might I introduce the lute player, Seton. He wishes to be presented to King Duir in hopes of performing for him.”

  Seton made a low bow. “My Lords, it is an honor to meet men of the court.”

  Auberon offered his hand and a smile to Seton. “You are well met, musician. You must forgive Cale for he is anxious with our King’s coronation.”

  “Anxious!” Cale bellowed and kicked a mug under the table. “What is the meaning of such a mess, Virago?”

  “An accident. I was cleaning it up when you burst in. Surely spilled ale and split fruit is of no importance to either of you,” I remarked lightly and hoped my tone would discourage further examination.

  “Indeed, you are correct, tailor. We’ve come to collect you and get you to the castle in haste to begin your work. Duir insisted we bring you with us on our return to court. Shall we go now?”

  “I need only a moment to gather my materials.” I left the three men. With shaking fingers, I gathered my tools and secured the pack of velvet to my body. When I returned, I found Auberon and Cale leaning in the doorway while Seton, having resumed his stance by the table, played the lute. This time it was a faster tune, mesmerizing in its delivery, and looking at Auberon and Cale, I could tell they had been eased from the hilts of their swords and were enamored with the music.

  “Shall we—” I started to say, but stopped when Cale held a hand up.

  I remained silent and watched Seton. I could let my eyes linger on him now as Cale’s attentions were focused on Seton’s hands and Auberon had closed his eyes.

  For an instant, Seton’s eyes found mine and widened with a plea heard only by my own entreating heart. The music soothed the situation, but also served to enflame the unrequited need between us. When he stopped playing, we were all silent for a moment. Then Auberon, again, broke the silence.

  “Virago, how can you have kept such a talent from court? Surely, King Duir will engage the musician and so shall I for my wedding nuptials! He is a master of the lute and in your absence he told us there are other instruments he plays as sweetly.”

  A slow, embarrassed smile spread across Seton’s face. “My Lords are too kind, but I would gladly play for the King and would be honored to perform for your wedding, Lord Auberon.”

  “It’s settled.” Auberon stood up and clasped his hands together. His actions further shattering the peace Seton had woven around them. “Let us go now, and you will come as well, musician, for I hate to think of Duir not hearing your music!”

  Chapter 8

  The ride to the castle seemed unendurably long. The streets were wild with crowds of people gathering in anticipation of Duir’s coronation procession. Tomorrow he would ride from the castle to the cathedral, where he would be anointed with sacred oils and the holy men would pray around him. Only those closest to Duir would attend. I would be ensconced in the small workroom, intent on his vest. Two days would be all I would have to create the vest and learn the mysteries of the velvet. I held these thoughts in my mind as a way to distract myself from Seton, who sat close to me in the carriage. I felt his hand brush my thigh several times during the journey and each time a blush rose in my cheeks and blood flowed to my cock, causing it to stiffen painfully within the constraints of my breeches.

  Luckily, both Cale and Auberon were in full spate over the chaos and the delays caused by the crowded streets. Their voices rose over one another as they cursed the people and banged on the walls of the carriage to inspire the helpless driver.

  I arrived at the castle thoroughly on edge from Seton’s teasing touch and Auberon and Cale’s yelling. The quiet, dark hallways leading to the bright and noisy hall where Duir held court proved a blessing to my tumultuous emotions.

  Seton and I waited to be announced, as was the custom when one brought a stranger before royalty. Upon hearing my name, we were joined by two armed guards. The court had quieted, but a hum vibrated among the people. When Duir held his hand up, the hum ceased.

  Auberon and Cale had taken their places on either side of the throne. Briar was absent.

  Duir leaned forward as we approached. I could see earnest interest in his eyes and a playfulness in his smile. “My friend, Virago.” He majestically offered his hand, to which I quickly bowed and kissed his princely ring, which would soon be exchanged for the King’s black diamond.

  I guessed that while Seton and I were waiting to be announced, both Cale and Auberon made his musical talents known.

  “My Lord,” I replied, head bowed.

  “I hear you have brought me another astounding talent in the form of this hearty young man,” he continued in the same dramatic voice.

  “Yes, Your Grace. I present a talent new to me, but memorable and hopefully worthy of your ear.” I lifted my head to see Duir staring not at me, but at Seton.

  “Your name?” Duir asked, his tone rising to indicate slight boredom.

  Seton bowed politely. “I am Seton and I come to beg Your Grace’s delight and that of the court. May I play for you?”

  I heard laughter from the court and was relieved when I found Duir only barely smiling. Auberon nodded assuredly in my direction.

  “Silence,” Duir shouted. “I do not find anything amusing and loathe the one who laughs in the face of a master artist, as I am told this young man is, so I bid you play, musician, and silence these fools!”

  Once Seton found his lute, the music resumed. This time slow and low, at first like summer wind in the forest but it grew, and as it grew, so did the intensity in Duir’s face. It was the look he showed me when I revealed the velvet to him, when he realized he was in the presence of something rare, something he had to have as his own. I knew immediately he would engage Seton. The realization made my stomach pitch. We would be close together in the presence of many who condemned sexual passions between men. As the music rose, my eyes followed it above the heads of the court. Even the stray birds that snuck in through windows and flapped about the rafters were silent.

  His music seduced the court. When I allowed myself to look at him, he stared back, a slow significant rise in the tempo, and a faint smile indicated his enjoyment at my watching him. This time Duir caught the look between us, and I could only hope he would read no more into it than a mere coincidence of visual contact.

  Seton stopped playing and for several seconds the familiar eerie silence descended upon the hall. Duir broke the spell with sudden and raucous applause. The court exhaled a collective breath and joined in the applause until the hall filled with the rapturous sound. I couldn’t help smiling and laughing as the applause rose and, Seton, surprised by the reaction, bowed low and remained bowed until the applause subsided.

  “Will you play for my coronation feast and celebration, master musician?” Duir asked. He obviously admired Seton’s ability. He smiled broadly and leaned from the throne excitedly.

  Seton spoke with confident poise. “I have traveled far to seek your audience, Your Grace. Nothing would bring me further joy than to entertain you on such a monumental occasion.”

  Duir stood and drew up a chalice resting on a small table next to him. “I drink to you both, my loyal and talented tailor, Virago, and to my new and most gifted musician. Seton of faraway lands, your gifts will be well received in this court!” He drank and the hall filled with applause.

  We both bowed low and left Duir’s audience. I heard talk swirl around us and felt pats of congratulatory hands and words of praise. We just made it to the entrance of the hall when I heard Duir
’s voice shouting my name above the din. I stopped and was surprised to see Duir approaching us. Two guards on either side strode alongside him.

  Seton intently watched Duir’s advance.

  “Your Grace?” I started to say, but felt my voice fall away. Sylvain! My brother’s name burned hot across my mind and even before it faded, Duir came close.

  “Where is your brother?” he asked, looking about. “Did you not bade me welcome him into my court?” His voice lost all kingly reverence and had taken on the low, suspicious tone.

  “He is unwell, Your Grace, and sends his earnest thanks and sincerest regrets,” I answered nervously, and as I articulated the lie, wondered if I had somehow ensnared myself in a trap yet unseen.

  Duir clasped one of my shoulders in each of his hands and stared hard into my face. I dared not to look away, for Duir would know I lied if I did.

  His eyes searched my face for a second. “You must send my wishes for a speedy recovery to him. I trust you will be able to proceed with the making of my garment without his aid. Though how a blind man is capable of sewing a stitch worthy of a royal garment eludes me.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. You will have a vest worthy of your greatness!” As the words tumbled from my mouth, I fought the sudden bitter wave of anger caused by Duir’s insult towards Sylvain, but couldn’t retract the note of sarcasm in my words.

  “You would do well to impress me as I’m sure there are many who would be more than able to produce something indeed worthy of my greatness, Virago, considering the material.”

  Until now I’d ignored the velvet in the glow of Seton’s arrival and now, as it hung at my side, I could feel my protective obligation to it grow; and with the obligation came certainty. Duir would overlook Sylvain’s absence as long as I produced the garment I promised. At least for now.

  “My King!” Auberon’s voice reached us, and upon hearing it, Duir released my shoulders.

  “We have matters beyond clothes and music to discuss and much to plan,” Auberon continued. “May we have an audience?”