Velvet

by Xavier Axelson

  “Let him be well, let it all be well,” I repeated this until I heard Sylvain’s voice behind me.

  “Come and eat, Brother. Be comforted, your work is done, and all will be well.”

  Sylvain stood at the worktable with two bowls of what smelled like porridge in his hands.

  I smiled, kindly. “If you say it shall be, this time I will believe you because I must if I hope to make it through this day.”

  Chapter 13

  Before I left the house I clasped Sylvain to me in a hug. “You have been more than family to me this past day. I could not have accomplished this task without your aid.”

  “It is only as it should be,” he responded when we broke apart. “Now you must go and do what must be done. I will find you later.”

  “I will be glad to see you at the celebration, Sylvain. Fear not Duir’s notice. He will be drunk and paying no attention to anything aside from ale and women.”

  “Power is a far more powerful seduction than ale and whores, Brother!” Sylvain yelled out as I made my way from him to the gate.

  “Ahh, but I can think of others!” I shouted over the sound of an approaching carriage. The streets were coming alive and I paid the carriage no mind until it was nearly upon me. Sylvain stood in the doorway.

  “Virago?”

  I heard Sylvain calling my name. Before I could answer, another voice replied.

  “Aye, Sylvain, how long it has been since we have seen you!” Auberon’s voice was mocking.

  It was folly for me to have not left even earlier. I should have left before the cock crowed to avoid the menace of riding with Auberon to the castle.

  “So it has,” my brother shouted and stepped from the door. “Who is with you?”

  I could already see Briar sitting on the other side of Auberon. Neither man answered, I could see them both beginning to laugh. They would sit and wait for Sylvain to repeat the question and make up some falsehood to try and confuse him.

  “It’s Briar, Sylvain,” I said as loud as I could.

  “Oh,” Sylvain answered.

  I could hear knowingness in his voice. He was familiar with this game and it hurt him each time, though he would never show it.

  “Be well, Sylvain, I will see you later!”

  I gathered my pack closely to my side, took a breath and joined Briar and Auberon in the carriage. I watched as Sylvain made his way inside the house.

  “Why must you mock him?” I chastised as we rode away. “It is not as if he does not know your game.”

  “We mean no harm, Virago,” Auberon answered, his amused face breaking into a smile.

  “You are pitiless and derive satisfaction from my brother’s torment. I’ve grown weary of such childishness,” I retorted and clasped the pack even tighter to my side.

  “Easy, tailor. What side of the bitch did you crawl out from this morning to be in such a temper?” Briar joked and kicked at my leg with his booted foot.

  “I have been up all the last night finishing Duir’s vest. I am weary and long to find sleep. Pay no attention to me, My Lords.” Although neither of them had undone the threads of our friendship, I could no longer look at any of them without seeing Cale. Did they all think of me beneath them? And did it matter what they thought? I no longer sought the closeness of their bond. Cale’s actions cut me from it as cleanly as if his cock were a knife.

  “Will you show us what you have made?” Auberon asked. “I understand you have been secluded for all of the last day in the castle workroom. Duir was none pleased to find the space vacant this morning.”

  “I will not!” I returned and kicked at Briar. “My head will be upon a spike before I show you the coronation vest!”

  “He had us sent for and woken to seek you out even before the first meal was served!” Briar lamented.

  “Why did you leave the castle, Virago?” Auberon asked, his eyes flicking over my being until they rested on my pack.

  “I am sorry for having you troubled on my behalf, but I found myself needing the familiar tools of my home to ensure Duir’s vest was to be perfect. In my defense, my need proved correct. The vest is truly magnificent.”

  “So, will you make my wedding vest and those of my men?” Auberon asked greedily. “Surely you will not deny Tienne!”

  “If you so desperately seek my aid, seek Duir and implore him with Tienne and your desires. If he relents, I will do as you wish.” I spoke as if my tongue were incapable of caution. I found release from the tormenting shame clinging to me in this new freedom. They can all be damned! I thought almost merrily as the carriage plodded along. What do I care anymore for these jackals in their finery?

  “It must be so!” Auberon shouted joyously. “I will implore Duir once he has been crowned and the ale is poured!”

  Briar shook his bald head. “You are a wedded fool, Auberon! Duir’s mind is rattled enough as it is. You cannot possibly think of bothering him about such nonsense!”

  The two men fought good-naturedly, and the question of my leaving the castle was forgotten. With every turn of the carriage wheels, I was closer to seeing Seton. How I would embrace him and implore him to find some secret place to taste his lips.

  “And the musician! How he played and plied Duir with sweet music the long night!” Briar continued, obviously finishing a thought I’d missed in my daydreams.

  “How did the musician fare?” I asked quickly and cursed my eagerness, for Auberon had not missed my sudden interest in their conversation.

  “What interest do you have in the lute player?”

  “Only it was I who recommended him, Auberon. I am not unfamiliar with Duir’s capacity to blame not only the message but the messenger of things failing to delight him,” I added coolly.

  At this, Briar laughed. “Our tailor has gotten the vinegar in his porridge this morning instead of milk!”

  “You must watch yourself, Virago,” warned Auberon. “Duir is in a strange mood.”

  “I’m sure no stranger than any I have witnessed these many years.”

  I saw Auberon’s face change from one of mild amusement to one of sarcastic knowing. “You asked about the musician, so I’ll tell you. Duir had him play the night through with nary a minute of respite between songs. The man played on until his fingers bled. I saw the crimson drops fall at his feet even if I was drunk with ale.” The last was added with a smirk in Briar’s direction.

  My face betrayed my shock and I tried quickly to mask the rage with which I was becoming more comfortable. He knows! My mind shrieked over the pounding of blood in my ears. He knows!

  “You have taken a keen interest in this wandering minstrel. I wonder why you care for his wellbeing but not of your King’s wishes?” Briar asked.

  Auberon, apparently seeing the disgust on my face, put his hand on my knee. “We are your brothers, Virago, not this man who plays a lute! It is we who have secured your place among the court!”

  “My brother,” I started to say with such ferocity, both men’s mouths dropped any smirk they once held. “My brother is not welcome in this court, and it was my father, who secured my place in Duir’s court, and it is my talent which keeps me there.”

  The carriage came to a halt before the castle. I gathered my pack to me and dismounted from the carriage before either man could make comment on my outburst. As I made my way inside, I wondered if my actions hadn’t secured my place in the dungeons or, thinking of Seton, worse.

  The halls of the castle were full of noise and movement, people running from task to task, loud voices panicked over coronation details. The castle guards were dressed in event finery, and every corridor smelled either of flowers or food. Instead of going directly to Duir, I instinctively sought refuge in the lower kitchens. If Seton were here, I hoped he would have been advised to find food and rest there.

  Naturally, the kitchens were in full, bustling motion. The lower kitchens were used for the menial tasks of preparing the food to be cooked in the higher kitchens. It was also a place of
respite for servants and guards alike.

  Familiar with the setup of the noisy, active room, I quickly found Rosemont, a cook I’d known for many years. Her ebony curls were barely contained beneath her cap and her skin was glossy with sweat. I could see exhaustion in her eyes, but she smiled as I walked beside her.

  “And what are you about being in here? Surely His Grace must be in need of you this morn!” She stopped and slapped the hand of a scullery maid. “You fool girl,” she shouted at the girl who had all but shrunk into the side of the wall in terror. “The next time you chop a plum the wrong way, I’ll show you on your finger how it’s supposed to be done! Now get to it and properly!” She swiped the oddly cut pieces of fruit from the large juice stained wooden board the girl used and handed me a piece as we walked. “Damn fools!” she boomed. “I get fools here while Belinda gets the goodies up in the higher!”

  I took the plum and ate it. My mouth had gone dry from my outburst in the carriage and the sudden moisture of the fruit was a relief.

  “Well,” she snapped impatiently once arriving at the far corner of the kitchen where she searched for something on a large, cluttered rack. “Why are you here?”

  “Have you seen a musician, a stranger to your eyes, here to play for the coronation?”

  Rosemont stopped her search and let out a large boisterous laugh.

  “A musician? What will I be asked next this day, I wonder? If I’ve seen the fork who ran away with the spoon? I ain’t seen no musician here!” she concluded with another fit of laughter and left me standing unsure of what to do next.

  It was only as I decided to leave and attend Duir before I truly was put in the dungeon for my tardiness, when the maid Rosemont slapped came close to me.

  “He’s in the herb garden round the way. Come in early this morning with horrible cuts on his hands. I’d offered to bandage him, but he said he’d tear them off!”

  I thanked the girl, hurried out the back door of the kitchen, and ran to the edge of the wall. A small herbal garden used by the lower kitchen grew there. I found him beyond the large, overgrown bushes of rosemary. He was sitting on a bench staring off into the distance, his precious lute in his lap, his shoulder erect, but he sat slumped as if he were enduring something.

  “Seton!” I shouted and hurried to him.

  I rejoiced to see a smile pull on his mouth.

  “My love.”

  “Yes,” was all I could think to say as his eyes found mine. I hesitated, was he truly in front of me? I took him roughly into my arms and held him long enough to hear his sigh.

  “We mustn’t, I fear they know of our passions.”

  The apprehension in his voice chilled me. Although the sun was out and the warmth of the nearby kitchens was present, I felt a shiver crawl along the base of my spine.

  “You mustn’t think such things, they know only what they think they know. There is no evidence—”

  Seton thrust his hands before my face, cutting my words short.

  “No? I’d say this is evidence of the King’s mind.” Our eyes met and before he let his hands fall, he pressed one of his wounded fingers to my lips. “Don’t look afraid, it does not matter what they believe.”

  My eyes searched his face. How I ached to let my tongue escape my mouth and ease his pain.

  “You must go to him now, Virago. You are late in coming as it is. You will likely endure the tongue lashing of His Grace, and if he does suspect something, you are unwise to make him think more because of your tardiness.”

  I wanted to soothe him, but before I could, a washerwoman came from the kitchen and seeing us, stopped, and stared.

  “Go,” he urged. “I will find you when the coronation is over and the celebration has begun. I am fortunate the King is consumed with his duties this day for I am certain he would have me playing until I begged for his mercy. It is enough I will be forced to play this night.” He stared at his hands. “A maid offered to bandage my wounds, but I would rather they hurt so I am reminded of this kingdom’s true nature.”

  He lifted a sleeve and swiped it across his face.

  I could see his eyes were glistening with tears he wouldn’t let fall.

  “Duir is a fool to think he can turn a man from his passions. I would make music with the bare bones of my knuckles and bleed across the marble floors of this palace before I will give way to his brutality.” He came to me, gathered my hands in his wounded ones, pain plain on his face as he attempted to clasp my hands tight. “You must promise me you will one day visit other lands and see for yourself the foolish tyranny of this place.” His voice was earnest and yet I felt distance in his words.

  “We will go together.” My heart began to beat harder. “I’ve made you something to wear this night.” I removed a carefully folded garment from my pack. “It is a cape, not new, but lined with crimson velvet, the color of my heart when it beats in your absence. Swear you will wear it!” I handed it over to him and he clumsily took it from my hands. The need to have him close to me was so sharp, I felt a physical pain in my chest. “No one must know, but you alone will have your wish of wearing something grand as a king for you are far nobler than any fool in this realm. Will you wear it?”

  He nodded, but said nothing.

  Chapter 14

  As I made my way to Duir’s chambers, a strange sense of foreboding haunted me. My pulse quickened with each step. The familiar had become strange. Even the sound of my boots upon the stone floors sounded ominous.

  When I knocked upon Duir’s bedchamber, I was rewarded with not the shouts of many, but the resonating echo of Duir’s voice alone. I entered cautiously, aware of my surroundings. The room was dark save for the light streaming in through the large window overlooking the interior rose gardens. Duir stood at the window, his freshly shaved cheeks and stormy dark hair cut a dramatic, but handsome profile in the semi-darkness. One arm rose, found the support of the window and he rested the side of his face alongside it. He was dressed in an ivory shirt with wide sleeves that hung from his arms like wings. His bottom half was in black leather. He would wear the vest over the shirt and beneath the royal overcoat his father wore the day he was crowned King.

  “Your Grace.”

  I heard Duir inhale as if he were contemplating his words.

  “My mother planted those roses. They are starting to bloom. Come and see.”

  There was a strange undertone in his voice that made my feet heavy to move towards him.

  “Come.” It was not a command, but an entreaty.

  The shadows finally started falling away and the day grew even brighter. Perhaps I’d been wrong. Perhaps nothing was known and Cale remained silent. I would endure the shame, but Seton and I would go away.

  “Why did you leave the palace yesterday?”

  When I didn’t immediately answer, Duir grew strident.

  “Why did you allow the musician your audience when you were tailoring my garment?”

  I felt words bubbling up from within but none of them felt correct. What would I answer? Better, what should I answer?

  I could only think to speak his familiar name in hopes of soliciting the part of him I knew as a brother. “Duir.”

  “I am your King, Virago, and if you are to remain in this court, you are to remember your place as my tailor.” He swallowed hard and stared at me. “And my friend. I have ignored many things as prince that I shan’t overlook as king.”

  Although I knew I should drop my eyes, I couldn’t. The velvet. Its seductive voice laughed up from the pack. Let him kill me if he thinks he is a king of any caliber! The words sprung upon my mind behind the velvet’s laughter. They were a death wish. A knock on the door and hurried voices coming from behind saved me from shouting my way into the dungeons.

  “Show me what you have done, and may it be as magnificent as I hoped or you will know my disappointment.”

  There was another knock at the door, more urgent, voices louder.

  “Enough!” shouted Duir and the echo
and power of his voice filled the chamber and silenced those on the other side.

  Under his watchful eye, I lay my pack upon a nearby chair and carefully took out the vest from where it had been placed with care by my own hands.

  I brought it over to him by the window. With the smell of the queen’s roses rising from the gardens, Duir saw the velvet.

  He lifted the vest from me and let it undo itself from its folds. “You have not disappointed your King, but have exalted him.” Duir stared at it, eyes gleaming.

  I forced lightness into my words. “Your Grace, you must put it on. Time is short, and Horace will have both our heads if you are late to your own coronation!”

  He handed the vest to me. As I took it, he held out his arms.

  The vest felt heavy in my hands, its weight both physical and emotional. This garment existed because I deemed it so. I was proud of each piece as a father would be of his child. Each stitch and button, the silk backing, the velvet itself, rich and foreign at first, now as familiar to me as my own skin. I undid the buttons, my fingers trembling as each one released. It had all happened, love, cruelty, realization and sadness and each of these things were woven into this vest. Was it any wonder it felt a burden upon my hands? A new King admired by those who would worship him would wear it and none would ever know the story behind each stitch.

  “Virago?”

  “Your Grace,” I answered, shaking myself from the painful reverie. I put the vest onto Duir. “Now you must see yourself.” As the vest left my hands, I exhaled so a small gasp escaped my lips and with it, my final acceptance of who I was and who I would have to be in the days ahead. Liberation was costly. I felt an overwhelming need to weep. I would never know the false peace I’d known before Seton, for I’d not been myself before his love spoke truth to my heart and body.