Velvet

by Xavier Axelson

I heard her sigh as her eyes continued to linger on Sylvain. “He is quite handsome. I’d forgotten how beautiful he was. Even in your own handsome shadow, he cuts quite a figure. Might you introduce us?”

  “My Lady.” I bowed and went to Sylvain, who although nervous, seemed to be enjoying himself amid the chaos.

  “The air is alive and wild and the food smells are savory, sweet, and sour. Is the banquet table already spread?” His earnest inquiries made my heart ache. He had such a wide view of the world outside the palace and yet was an innocent of everything within. Seeing an awed smile on his usually serious face made me smile, despite my anxiety.

  “You are enamored and are only at the entranceway! Come now and meet Duir’s cousin, Lady Tienne who will marry Lord Auberon shortly.” I took his hand and placed it firmly on my shoulder. “She is quite beautiful and thinks you handsome. Do you remember her from when we were younger?”

  Sylvain gripped my shoulder. “Of course I remember Tienne. Her voice is one I think of often, but she mocks me to say I am handsome. I know how I look by the way people have laughed when I pass, but I will meet her because I cannot help but want to hear her voice.”

  “Come and let us meet her and perhaps I will leave you in her care while I find the musician, for I fear for him.”

  Tienne was where I left her, but as we approached, so did Auberon and when he saw Sylvain behind me, he made the face of one who is about to endure something unpleasant.

  “Lord Auberon and Lady Tienne.” I bowed, and Sylvain followed suit. “Surely you both remember my brother, Sylvain.”

  “Sylvain?” Auberon sneered “In court? It must be a historic day indeed to be graced with his presence!”

  “I am fortunate to be welcomed in King Duir’s court. God save the King,” Sylvain intoned respectfully as he rose from bowing. “Lord Auberon and Lady Tienne.” He offered his hand, to which Tienne placed her own. “It is you who smells of bergamot and tuber rose? I remember you smelled as lovely years ago when I met you in my father’s store.”

  “You are a visionary, Sylvain,” Tienne cooed as he drew her hand to his lips. “I’d forgotten how clearly you see with your memory. How pleasant to see you in court after all this time. You must allow me to steal you away for a dance and let me introduce you to all the beautiful women who would swoon under your words!”

  “Do I not woo you with silvered words, my love?” Auberon asked, his eyes never leaving my brother’s face.

  I knew Auberon’s jealous mind well enough to know I must intervene. “Fear not, my brother told of no tales to steal the Lady Tienne from beneath your arms!”

  At this, Auberon leveled his gaze upon me and smiled. “Tienne, why don’t you take Sylvain and make him known to the court. I wish a moment with Virago.”

  Sylvain held his hand out to me. I clasped it tightly, then let it go. This was our sign from childhood to indicate the other was all right.

  “Go and make merry, Brother.” Aware of Auberon’s glowering face, I smiled at Tienne. “Mind him well, for I worry some witch-woman may steal him away!”

  Tienne smirked and drew Sylvain from my side. “He is in the hands of a lady, and will be treated as my guest.” She winked coyly at me before taking her leave.

  Auberon snatched her to him, forcing her to drop Sylvain’s hand and kissed her roughly.

  “A blind man may know how to honey you with words, but words are no substitute for actions.”

  These sharp words would have cut anyone else, but Sylvain, knowing the arrogance of Duir and his men, merely bowed. “You are a much better man than I, My Lord, if your actions can secure the beauty of one such as the Lady Tienne.”

  Auberon’s face grew dour, but before he could say more, Tienne interrupted. “Virago, be sure and quiz Auberon about his wishes for his wedding vests. Duir has approved my request to have you as the men’s tailor. I insisted he allow you to use the new fabric you employed for his coronation vest! What is the material called?”

  “It is velvet, My Lady.” I thought I could hear music beginning to swell from the depths of the room.

  “It is a fantasy, and if I could, I would have my wedding dress made in it! It is like the hide of a magical beast!” She laughed at this foolish comparison and seeing Auberon’s unsmiling face, took Sylvain by the hand and led him from us and into the crowd.

  Alone, Auberon’s mood lightened, but I could sense a strange heaviness between us.

  “What is it?” I asked, cautious of my own words in his presence.

  “Come, let us skirt the crowds and make our way to the throne. Duir did not see you at the coronation ceremony.”

  I had to practically walk on top of his boots to hear him.

  “The King must know I have worked tirelessly on his garment and am bone weary and sought the comfort of my bed for a short time. It is not my place to be by his side, Auberon. You know this as well as he, and it is time I recognize my own position in this court. It was one thing when he was Prince to have his tailor at his heel, it is another when he is King and I am not part of his privy council as are Briar, Cale and you.” I stopped talking when we reached the edge of the crowd and we sought space behind a large pillar.

  “I don’t understand you, Virago. Have you lost your senses? You leave the castle after Duir instructed you not to do so for fear of having his coronation vest stolen or exposed. You don’t attend him at his coronation because you say you are tired?”

  “My Lord, I—” Before I could say more, Auberon interrupted me.

  “And what of this, My Lord, My Lady?”

  “It has been made clear to me my position in this court, Auberon. Painfully clear. In fact, if I am merely the tailor, I shall regard those above me as one in my position should.” I heard the callousness in my voice and saw the way my words struck Auberon. His face hardened as though he wished to strike me.

  “Is this because of the musician?”

  If my words struck him, this question was like a cold knife to my stomach.

  “I know not what you mean,” I answered quickly and heard the breathlessness of my words. Music played clearly and I knew it to be the sound of the lute and was for a moment relieved. Then, remembering Seton’s wounded fingers, I grew angry.

  “He plays as though gifted from above.” Auberon’s head cocked to listen to the music above the voices around us. “I wish him to play at my wedding. I told Duir it should be overlooked.”

  Fear brought sweat to my brow. Had I been weaker, I would have run from the court. Instead, I allowed the memory of Seton’s and my abuse to seal my feet to the floor.

  “Come, Virago. It is not a surprise. Your hunger is plain in your eyes and always has been. How many years have we all known each other? How many times have we seen one another nude? Your shyness, your blushing and physical aversion when we touch you in jest, these all told of your true passions. So when Cale—”

  “Say his name not to me!” I broke Auberon’s suspicious onslaught. “Listening to Cale is like listening to the wind. You hear many tales and little truth. If I have been shy it is because I was reared to be mindful of my place and I am not accustomed to being manipulated by other men for jest!” I’d spoken beyond my limit, and realized it too late.

  His face grew grim. “The laws you have broken are centuries old and though I have implored Duir on your behalf, you must seek his forgiveness, and swear you will not act in this depraved way again. You’ve done wrong to disrespect him as you have.”

  I felt a threat in his voice as I jerked my shoulder from under his hand. I strode from him, unsure of where I meant to go. I could only follow the sound of the music and hoped it would lead me to Seton.

  What would Duir do? Worse, what did he expect? Of me? Of Seton? These questions held me as a spell holds an enchanted child. So when I broke from the crowd and found myself before Duir, I felt stunned and exposed.

  He sat resplendent upon his dark throne of ebony and rare black wood. Seeing Duir upon it was like seeing a demi-
god, for he shone in such magnificence. It was frightening.

  Duir talked in earnest with a small, dark man while those around him kept a vigilant watch upon the court. Briar was on his left and Cale on his right. It was several seconds before any of them noticed me. It was in fact Seton, who upon seeing me, faltered in his playing and thus made Duir raise his head.

  At first he glanced to where Seton sat nearby. Cale leaned close and uttered something, at which Duir held up a hand.

  “This is your King, tailor,” Cale barked. “Fall on your knees and show him your allegiance!”

  “Cale,” Duir’s voice resonated in the now silent hall. “It is enough you have spoken before me, but you will not address the royal tailor in such a way. He is friend and loyal to me, as was his father to mine.”

  Behind me, I heard a rustling and the faint sound of a familiar voice. When I dared a furtive glance, I saw Sylvain, his brow furrowed as though every fiber of his being were trying to sense what was happening.

  “God save the King,” I bowed low. Unsure of what would happen next, I found myself holding my breath in anticipation.

  “Rise, Virago, you are a welcome sight. Come forth and accept my praise and thanks.”

  Although kind, I did not fail to hear the command behind Duir’s words.

  When I straightened, his hand was outstretched. On it I saw the glorious black diamond his father had worn, a symbol of his position, and the confirmation of his coronation. I moved forward slowly, bowed, and kissed the ring. The stone felt cold and hard against my lips.

  “And who is this?” Duir asked as he jerked his hand from my lips. “Sylvain? Will surprises of this day ever cease?”

  I saw my brother bow, and heard his calm voice.

  “Your Grace.”

  “Welcome to court, Sylvain. I hope you are finding it pleasurable.”

  I couldn’t help but find my eyes searching Duir’s face for his true emotions, but where there had been an almost transparency in days past, there was now a mysterious aloofness.

  Before Sylvain could reply, Duir stood, held his arms wide, exposing the full majesty of the velvet vest. “My loving people and most honored guests,” Duir’s voice boomed majestically. “I would like to share with you a new and most precious discovery.”

  I could hear the awed sounds of the crowd behind me. The weight of their eyes trained upon the throne and the expectant hush was heavy with excitement.

  “I present you with the man responsible for bringing this new material to my court. The royal tailor. He is Virago and this,” he said, stroking the front of his chest appreciatively, “is velvet and upon its arrival, has been made a royal textile to be worn by only those of positions within court and gentry. The laws of sumptuary have been made clear in this regard.”

  My eyes found Seton. He stared hard at Duir as though bemused by this speech. I could see the velvet-lined cape draped across his seat. My own cape felt suddenly heavy, as if it carried the weight of the law within its lining.

  “Now,” Duir continued in a less booming, but regal voice. “Let us feast and enjoy the theatrics of Lady Therese!”

  At the mention of Therese, I felt my stomach lurch. My thoughts raced urgently.

  He must be warned! I must tell him!

  Applause broke out and rose up from behind me in a wave. Seton was provoked to begin playing and soon the hall was merry.

  “Your Grace,” I began, trying not to shout above the noise, but was interrupted by Briar, who came and clapped me on the shoulder.

  “His Grace will see you tomorrow. Virago—”

  “Indeed, we have much to discuss, you and I,” Duir interrupted, a faint glint in his eye.

  “Yes, Your Grace, as you wish. I will be here,” I replied uneasily, bowed, then took my leave.

  My brother was immediately upon me.

  “I dislike Duir’s words. He is suspicious. I fear you are right to leave, and quickly. If you will still have me, I think I will join you.”

  “Peace, Sylvain, please. It is in motion and we shall leave as smoke leaves a chimney. Only I am uneasy with Therese. Duir will engage in more than her theatrical talents this night and I believe she is now tainted with whatever illness has killed her birds and her women.”

  “There you are, Sylvain.” Tienne came and hooked her arm through Sylvain’s, a coy smile on her pretty face.

  “Come and let us find seats for the theatre! Virago, will you not join us?”

  “In a moment, My Lady. I must see to something first. Please reserve a seat for me by your side,” I replied and smiled kindly as she nodded and started to pull Sylvain by the arm.

  Before he allowed Tienne to guide him from my presence, Sylvain hastened to my side. “Do as your conscience dictates, for you know my mind on this subject.”

  “As my conscience dictates?” I repeated aloud. The words, although mine, were cold. “I have known monsters here and made them my brothers.” My eyes sought and found Cale, his face dark, but his eyes bright. “But I have also known good.” And I saw Seton, his face calm though I knew he ached with exhaustion and pain.

  Which am I?

  I guess I would have to wait and see which would emerge, the good or the monster.

  From the room where the theatre would take place, I heard the sound of applause.

  The performance was about to begin.

  Chapter 17

  I found a seat next to Sylvain, whom Tienne abandoned once Auberon insisted she sit with him in the better seats towards the front of the room.

  “Can you smell it?” my brother asked furtively.

  “What?” I whispered. Luckily or wisely, Sylvain chose seats to the side of where the stage was set up, so there was no one next to me and a vacant chair next to Sylvain.

  “The sickness,” he answered, annoyed. “Therese’s performers.”

  I jerked my head to the stage and watched as the silk curtains Therese used for all her theatrics parted and several female performers emerged dressed ironically and morbidly as peacocks. There was a gray pall to them, but I was unsure if it was their makeup, the lighting, my unfortunate view, or the illness.

  “Therese wouldn’t risk bringing disease to court,” I said as I watched the peacocks move gracefully across the stage. I saw one flounder, her face blanch with embarrassment as she continued her movements.

  “She is sick herself, you saw her.” He shook his head sadly before adding, “It is an unfortunate man who delves between the legs of her women now.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my eyes now transfixed by male performers who emerged. They moved sensually about the women, pulling feathers from their costumes, tickling and teasing them with the plumes. The eyes of the peacock feathers caught the candlelight and glittered.

  “I believe this is not a plague one will get from breathing. This illness will spread from within.”

  “No!” I jerked my head at my brother. The whores were possibly carrying plague and didn’t know! If this were the case, how many men already carried the disease home to their wives?

  As if stating facts he’d read in a book, Sylvain continued. “These women will likely be dead within the fortnight and so will the men who have buried their cocks inside them.”

  I stood suddenly, made my way quickly from the room, and sought the fresh air of the night.

  The courtyard closest to the theatre was the one named moon garden. The former queen had instructed the men from the north to construct three white marble pools. When filled, the water reflected the silvery moon and cast the courtyard in tranquil light. Tonight was no exception, though as I descended the steps leading to the pools, there was unease about the usually peaceful space. As I passed the first pool, the water rippled. There was a thunderous movement nearby, a struggle and the muffled sounds of an argument. When I saw two figures struggling in the entranceway opposite where I stood, I rushed over and was shocked to find Seton standing before a man who had fallen to his knees. I could smell blood.


  “Seton.” His name and in saying it made me realize it had been him I’d missed the entire night. Everything else, every distraction, every foolish word was now meaningless.

  “Don’t move, Virago.” His voice was clipped, his breathing heavy.

  I saw him swipe his hand across his face and in the movement, my eyes caught the glint of something in his other hand.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, confused.

  Seton stared at the man before him. “I’m about to slit a throat.” He moved the hand holding the shining object closer to the man on his knees. Pain registered clearly on his face.

  I saw this and thought of his long-abused fingers. “Your hands.”

  “I told you once I would bleed across the marble of this court before surrendering to its brutality. Now you see I meant what I said.”

  “You are dead,” the other man hissed. “You will hang.”

  This was a voice I knew. If I knew no other, I would know it, for it haunted my dreams and plagued the minutes of my life worse than a specter haunts its grave.

  I saw Seton’s hand recoil. “Oh, aye?” he snarled through gritted teeth. “I will go to the devil and drag you with me! Where I come from, you don’t learn how to play an instrument with one hand and not wield a knife in the other.”

  I moved as if I were in a dream, slow and deliberate, and hoping in some blind way it was not the man I knew it was. I tripped over something, and looking, saw the cape I’d given to Seton. I reached to the ground and dragged it to me as one would pull a secret treasure. It had been ripped, the ragged edges of the cape felt sharp to me, dangerous. Every muscle in my body tightened. Fear wound its way into my heart. My jaw began to twitch nervously. I tried to swallow, but found I couldn’t.

  “Where is it?” I croaked.

  “Where is what?” Seton answered sharply.

  I could see the hate burning in his eyes as he stared at the man before him

  “Where is the missing piece of cloak, Seton? The velvet—” Before I could continue, Seton moved aside, revealing what my mind already knew and my heart dreaded

  “We are beyond the worry of velvet lined cloaks, Virago. Wouldn’t you agree?”