Date: Wed, 28 Jan 2009 22:05:47 -0500
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile, Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**I have nothing to disclaim at this time. Please enjoy!**

Cedrik, his prim manners revealing nothing of the intimate moment we had
shared just minutes earlier, led me through the halls of the large stone
building. As we passed, soldiers nodded to him with respect. Once we passed
by a barracks where a quarrel was going on, two or three soldiers shouting
and pushing at each other with savage brutality. Cedrik merely stepped into
the room and looked at them significantly, and at the sight of him the men
fell quiet and stood apart. Every soldier, no matter how crude or
ill-mannered (and there seemed to be many of this sort) softened his step
or averted his gaze as the clerk passed.

We reached the upper levels, where the corridors were broader and more
brightly lit. The noise and bustle of the soldiers was left behind, and we
saw only the occasional finely robed noble or court advisor padding through
the halls in their soft shoes. We turned a corner, and the hallway into
which we entered stretched far into the distance. The building was larger
than I had originally thought, and we walked for long minutes in silence.

"You spoke of a favor?" I asked at last.

He turned to me sharply and raised a finger. I took his cue and did not
question him further. A few more minutes and we reached a finely wrought
wooden door which opened into a modest-sized but well furnished bedroom. A
fireplace in the corner was already alive, providing the stone room with
needed warmth. Near enough to it to enjoy the heat sat a large wooden bed
which looked soft and inviting, particularly for me, since I had slept on
the ground for nearly a week. The clerk closed the door and only then
turned to me.

"I am sorry, I didn't wish to speak of this in the halls, where anyone
might hear."

"I understand."

He paced the room, scratching his head thoughtfully. "You go to the Queen's
chambers tomorrow, I believe. Not many men enter there -- just as few women
are allowed access to the close quarters around His Majesty. I don't know
what you will find there, or how you will be treated. However, it is
possible... It may be that you will encounter my brother there. You'll know
him by our resemblance. He is a... a slave to the Queen, I believe. He is
kept in her household, that is all I know. I... I know you have no reason
to help me, and perhaps all too much reason to despise me for what... what
has happened. But I must ask you a great favor."

The clerk turned his face from me, but I could hear his voice choked with
emotion.

"I see," I said, touched by his concern. I am my father's only child, and
so I have no brother and have often longed for one. "I don't despise you at
all, nor do I blame you for what {has} happened. To prove it I will help
your brother if I can -- I will do all in my power to free him, if I get
the chance."

He looked at me, his face stiff with great pain. "You misunderstand me
entirely. I want you to kill him if you can. Kill him, and I'll find some
way to reward you, I swear it."

He bowed briefly, and I saw a single tear slide down his cheek as he
hurried from the room.

_____________________________________________________________________________________


King Valen came to me that night, when all the castle save only the patrols
walking its perimeter were deep in sleep. For some reason, I awoke from my
slumber to find that Damon, who had come to my window some hours earlier
and had been sleeping by my side, was gone. From this sign I gathered I was
not alone. He stood near the doorway, just barely illuminated by the dying
embers of the fire, dressed only in a silk robe dyed in the deepest royal
purple. He seemed rooted in place, unable to move forward nor to turn and
leave. He blinked furiously when he saw me wake.

"Your Majesty?" I asked, confused and still half in sleep.

"Markis," he said, and then searched for words, "I did not mean to wake
you. I am sorry."

I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the bed. "It's no trouble. What can I do for
you?"

He crossed to me then, and sat on the end of the bed. "I've been
thinking. I cannot rest."

"What troubles you, Your Majesty?"

"Please," he said, wincing and running a hand through his hair. I saw that
he had recently bathed, for his hair was still heavy and damp. "Please,
call me Valen. I'm sick to death of being a king. Just for a few moments,
let me be a simple man."

I nodded, thinking perhaps I understood. "Valen, then."

"You seem like a good man, Markis. I have not pried into your past any more
than absolutely necessary nor asked you questions about your strange
appearance out of respect. Yet it seems to me that you deserve better than
what you have endured. And now I would only add to your hardships. Since
you came into my hands, I have only been thinking of how to use you to
further my chances in this absurd political game. It isn't right. It is a
tricky, dangerous thing I am going to ask you to do tomorrow, and I'm not
sure that I can bring myself to do it."

I moved closer to him then. "I have volunteered. I go willingly."

"Markis," he said, looking at the floor, "I am not a good man. I have done
terrible things -- or commanded them to be done, it is the same. Things I
could never do unless the greater good demanded it. Forcing you to
humiliate yourself before me with Cedrik is nothing compared to many of my
sins... It is very difficult to be a ruler and a good man at the same
time. That is the hardest lesson I have learned in my years of rule. Should
any harm come to you in my service it would be another great weight upon
me."

I grew so bold as to touch him, then, putting my hand on his shoulder
comfortingly. "You could not stop me, now. I will do anything to retrieve
my sword. More than that, you have shown me some kindness in your
concern. To repay that, I would do anything."

He smiled then. "You're a brave lad. I have heard the forest people are
fearless and proud. You honor the reputation. Let us not speak of
tomorrow. There is time enough for that in the morning. For now, you should
rest."

He rose, and I settled back against the soft pillow. He turned to leave,
but then stopped. Something more was troubling him.

"I have..." he began. He stopped and breathed deeply, then began again. "I
have slept alone for many countless nights now. It may be I never see you
again. May I... May I sleep here, with you? Just for a little while?" There
was a softness and vulnerability in his voice that seemed much at odds with
the dignity of his carriage and maturity of his form.

I said nothing, but merely pulled back the blanket of the bed enough to
give him space to enter. He removed his robe, revealing a hard, somewhat
hairy and muscular body. The hair about his groin was thick and curly and
of the same pale color as that on his head. He slipped under the blanket
quickly, and I felt the heat of our bodies merge. I assumed, quite
naturally, that he desired to be pleasured in much the same way that he had
seen me perform on his clerk. I felt a part of myself yearn to service him,
to make it a gift to him, and wondered if that was perhaps similar to how
Damon felt about pleasuring me. However, he merely wrapped his arms around
me and held on tightly, saying nothing. His embrace was strong and yet
tender, and I felt warm and comfortable and soon drifted to sleep.

For a better part of the night he shared my bed, and our naked bodies
stayed tightly intertwined. In the few moments of semi-consciousness, while
I enjoyed the feeling of his skin against mine, I wondered if I loved
him. Certainly I wanted to love someone, and wanted it badly; could this
king be the love I sought? The one to show me the true union of mind and
body that had been hinted at by my father? It seemed unlikely, and as I
searched my feelings I found a deep admiration and respect that somewhat
muted my passion and desire. I had not had an elder brother, someone to
look up to and admire or seek to emulate. Here, somehow, I felt I had found
something very like that. I realized, of course, that we barely knew each
other -- that he clung to me so tightly only because I was the first person
after so much time to share his lonely bed, and I to him (if I was truly
honest with myself) only because he was the first real person to show me
kindness since my exile. And yet, for this one night at least, these paltry
reasons were more than enough.

When the first tiny hint of sunrise peaked through the window, he withdrew
and robed himself again. He smiled at me and rubbed my bare head
affectionately, then turned and exited the room. The bed seemed cold and
empty without him, but almost instantly Damon appeared next to me, in the
very spot Valen had so recently occupied. His appearance was so sudden, it
startled me.

"Did I not tell you that you were destined for greatness?" Damon asked,
grinning, "Tonight you were the bedfellow to a king!"

I sighed and rubbed my hand across his chest absently. "A king is just a
man, Damon," I said, "with the lives of other men resting on his
shoulders."

"You would make a great ruler, Master," he said, and started to kiss my
neck gently.

"Only a fool would seek such responsibility. It must be very lonely." I
kissed him, and our bodies drew together.

But even as we began our passionate act, I could not forget what Valen had
said about the burdens of a king. They were powerful lessons for me, even
then, and I have since found them to be only too true.

____________________________________________________________________________________


When I was ushered into the king's presence the following morning, dressed
in fresh new clothes of the local style and smelling of sweet perfume from
the bath I had been given, Valen greeted me with only the most courteous
and formal nod. I knew, naturally, that he would be unable to give any sign
of what we had shared in the night before, and yet still I found his
feigned formality disheartening. He was flanked by councilors, high-ranking
military men, and several servants including Cedrik, who stood close to the
king's side. When the king spoke, his words were directed to me but I could
tell at once that they were meant for all present, and that he spoke in
authority as a king in a way I had not yet heard him do.

"Unless we are much mistaken, a messenger from the Queen will come to us
this morning for an audience," he said. He sat upon his throne, a
beautifully crafted seat worked in silver. "Her Highness will demand that
you be turned over to her, to which -- after some carefully crafted
resistance -- we will consent. All signs suggest she is desperate to lay
her hands upon you... Perhaps quite literally." At this the men at his side
chuckled nervously. "She will no doubt take less precautions than usual in
bringing you to her side. She will attempt to win you over and bring you
under her power."

"Like the woman in the cell?" I asked, and then, after some of the men
glared at me significantly, I added, "Your Majesty."

"Yes," Valen replied, "Only much worse. But as we have explained to this
illustrious assembly, you alone of all the men we know may be able to
resist her sorcery. It is our great hope that you do. This is important,
Markis. You must make her believe that she has succeeded, and that your
loyalty and devotion is only to her. Only then will she trust you enough to
allow you to be where you may see or hear that which could be of great use
to us. You must find a way to send word to us of all you discover."

I thought of Damon. Though he would not wish to show himself to anyone, he
could no doubt deliver a note to an appropriate window. "I believe I can
find means easily, Your Majesty."

"We doubt it not," he said, smiling fondly for the briefest
moment. "Markis, now we must tell you of our greatest fear regarding our
Queen. She has been quite liberal in her gifts of late, bestowing the
riches and rare treasures of our kingdom to foreign powers to the north. If
our reports are to be believed, then it may be that she seeks alliance with
the Archbishop of Broxbourne -- a dangerous man. What she would seek to
gain from His Grace we cannot guess, but fear it may be political and
military support.  It is our further fear that she means to overthrow us
and rule the men of Fermanagh in violation of the Rule of Two."

The ministers at his side grumbled, in revulsion at the very idea. The
mention of a land called Broxbourne tickled my memory, and I tried to
remember where I had heard the name. I decided it must have been in one of
the legends of the outside world I had heard as bedtime stories.

"In this matter above all others we seek news. In addition, while in her
power you will perhaps have the chance to recover your sword. When the time
is right and your presence there is no longer of use to us, you may claim
it and escape. We trust you to judge."

A few of the other men looked displeased at this. There had been an
argument, I realized. Many of his councilors did not understand why the
king trusted me so much, for I was a stranger from another land. It seemed
only to be expected.

"Markis, there is one thing more. Should you fail, or your true intentions
be discovered, we cannot send you aid. Should you speak of this
arrangement, we will deny it before her and the world. You must expect no
help from us while this precarious political situation lasts."

A young messenger entered and bowed swiftly. "An ambassador to see you,
Your Majesty. From the Queen."

Valen's mouth curled into a joyless smile. "Right on time." He turned to
me, then, his eyes burning into my head. "This is the point of no return,
wanderer from the wood. Will you undertake this task for us?"

I had to hold my hands behind my back so that Valen would not see them
shaking, but I knew my answer.

____________________________________________________________________________________


The Queen's castle was as luxurious and comfortable as her husband's was
sparse and practical. The walls were full of bright colored tapestry, the
floors covered in soft padded carpets, and every room contained a plotted
plant or small tree. The air in the place was full of a sweet incense quite
different from that which had burned continually in our holy temple. It was
a sweet earthy smell, like the forest on a wet spring day.

The audience with the Queen's messenger had gone precisely as Valen had
predicted, and soon after it was finished I had been taken outside and
handed to a group of amazarii, perhaps the same group that had captured me
on the road, for I felt I recognized one or two of them. They licked their
lips with pleasure at the sight at me, and bound my hands tightly. As we
had marched through the city, we had drawn the curious gaze of the
populace, and I realized for the first time just how shocking and unusual I
must look without the slightest trace of hair.

If the people of Fermanagh were shocked to see me, I was in turn quite
shaken up by the sight of them. Hundreds and hundreds lined the streets,
hundreds more peaked out in clumps from windows on higher levels. It
occurred to me, suddenly, how many people lived in the world -- more than I
could ever meet in one lifetime, more even than I had the capacity to
imagine. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of insignificance. If so many
millions lived upon this world, then I was just a single man in an endless
crowd of men, with no more right to claim the space I occupied than any
other man. I thought, in face of this revelation, that I might just simply
disappear and the world, with its endless stream of births and deaths,
would never know the difference. I made the mistake of looking up in the
open sky above, peeping down through the various buildings of the city, and
felt a rush of panic that I might disappear indeed. I hurriedly focused my
attention again on the crowd. Many of these people showed signs of
desperate poverty which tugged at my heart, though I would later come face
to face with unfortunate souls much worse off.  The idea that there were
people who struggled each day merely to find food and drink and basic human
needs was abhorrent to me, for in our village all things were held in
common and no one went hungry.

The crowd thinned and then vanished entirely once we reached the wall that
separated the Queen's headquarters from the rest of the city. Once inside
Her Highness' household, most of the amazarii departed and I was escorted
by one or two up into the higher levels. At last we reached a chamber so
lavishly decorated that I could not see a single trace of the room's walls
or floors, every inch covered with some expensive looking tapestry, or
painting, or exquisite vase. One side of the room was populated by large,
soft looking pillows that rested directly on the ground. My guards left,
taking positions outside the large door, and leaving me alone.

I had thought the door through which we had entered was the only way into
this room, but at once a section of the far wall yawned open and through it
stepped a man dressed in pale clothes, walking softly and with his head
bowed so that I could not see his face. His yellow hair was cut so short I
could not have grasped it between two fingers, and through the low-cut neck
line of his shirt I could see a smooth, well-defined chest. Without raising
his head, he spoke, his voice a pleasant tenor.

"Her Royal Highness and Mistress of the Female Sex of Fermanagh, Queen
Valessa." At this he bowed even lower and drew to one side, revealing her
framed in the doorway. I knelt immediately, and lowered my head in respect,
examining her only in quick glances and through glimpses in the edges of my
vision.

I had said to Valen that no woman could equal the beauty of Shara, my
intended bride, and I had meant it. Here, though, was the first woman who
could make me doubt my boast. Each limb was soft and round to perfection,
her hair sparkled in golden curls, and her face, while not young, was still
smooth and circular and as well-proportioned as an elaborately planned
painting. She wore a glimmering dress made of a light, sheer fabric that
twinkled softly in the light as she moved. She lowered herself smoothly and
gracefully onto a large cushion and looked at me curiously. Her gaze
unnerved me, though I stared at the floor and did not dare to look directly
at her.

"So," she spoke, and her voice was sultry and vibrant, "the warrior from
the wood, the hairless wonder I have heard so much of. You are quite in
demand, it would seem, and now at last you stand before me."

"Your Highness, it is an honor," I said tentatively, "I bring you greetings
from your husband, His Majesty the King, who bids you forgive those foolish
men who prevented your servants from bringing to me directly to you. He has
punished them, and returns me to you."

She laughed at that, and then replied, "So it would seem, young man. He
turned you over to me rather quickly. Suspiciously so, in fact. Do not for
a moment think I haven't noticed that. Did he interrogate you?"

I nodded, "Yes, Your Highness, briefly. He wanted to know why his Queen
sought me so, but I told him, and told him truthfully, that I do not
know. He lost interest in me rather quickly, I'm afraid. "

"A fine reply. Perhaps too carefully worded for my taste, however."

The young man who had entered with her now brought a silver tray, upon
which sat an elegant goblet of wine. The Queen took it, holding it loosely
in one hand, and with the other patted her servant's head affectionately.

"If my brother has put you up to any tricks, I would abandon the idea right
now. Tolo here once thought he could spy on me." She indicated the handsome
young man next to her. "Silly, silly Tolo. He learned quite quickly
how... persuasive I can be. Why, he's now my chief consort and slave --
that has to rankle my brother-husband in a very satisfying way, I'm sure."
She grinned.

I looked curiously at the servant she had called Tolo, but could not yet
see his face clearly. His eyes stayed downcast, and every part of his body
seemed fixed to the Queen, so much so that I thought he perhaps did not
even notice me in the room at all.  I was distracted by my curiosity, and
only after a few moments did something the Queen said strike me.

"Brother?" I muttered.

"Yes. Did you not know? Apparently the founders of the Rule of Two, in
their endless wisdom," (her voice dripped with sarcasm), "decided that the
foundation of our government should rest upon an incestuous marriage. All
men and women are brothers and sisters -- I suppose that it what is meant
to be represented. Thankfully, we don`t lie with each other, not ever. He
never comes to my bed, and never will. Valen will be the father of my
children, our next Queen and King, in only a vague symbolic sense. The true
father will be any one I please... perhaps Tolo here. He's a fine buck, and
eager to please. Or perhaps you, stranger."

At this Tolo finally looked up to see me, and his eyes were wide with rage
as he studied me. I blushed and struggled to compose myself. I knew she was
just trying to unsettle me, and I resolved not to let her have the
satisfaction.

"Now, now, Tolo, don't get too jealous. Yet." She stroked him softly, as
though he were a riled cat. "I need to find out more about our guest. You
spark my curiosity, Pilo."

"My name is Markis, Your Highness," I said.

"Your name is whatever I wish it to be," she snapped, and her voice carried
weight and authority, "I have named you Pilo, and that is what you shall be
called. Now, what is your name?"

"Pilo, Your Highness." I hung my head, trying to appear subservient though
inside I burned with shame and rage.

"Very good, Pilo. Now, explain to me how you've come to look as you do."
She threw one leg over the other smoothly, revealing it from beneath her
dress. It was impossibly long and as smooth as the silken pillows she
rested on.

"I dishonored my people," I said simply, "When I was exiled, the hair was
removed from every part of my body."

Her eyebrows raised. "Every part? How interesting. But surely that was some
days ago."

"A full week or so has passed since, Your Highness."

"And yet I see not the slightest evidence of new growth on your head."

"No, Your Highness," I replied, running my hand across my bare scalp, "It
is the curse of our Elders, of... of the High Priest. My hair shall not
return while my shame remains."

"Fascinating. I love a smooth, hairless man. The men in my service must be
routinely groomed and waxed, and I understand it is not pleasant. But you,
my dear, will not have to suffer through that, it seems. Speaking of which,
its time for a waxing, Tolo. You`re getting a little too furry for my taste
again. If only you were permanently hairless like Pilo here."

She smiled mischievously. She seemed determined to incense her servant
against me, and indeed the look Tolo threw me was positively venomous. I
met his gaze, and his eyes seemed familiar. It was then that I felt the
sudden thrill of recognition that so distracted me that I did not pay
attention to what the Queen was saying.

"...worthy to share my bed tonight, perhaps. What do you think, Pilo? Would
you like that?"

I forced my attention back to her. "Your Highness shows me too much
honor. I do not deserve it."

Her eyes flashed, and she sat up slowly. "I will be the judge of that,
Pilo. I and I alone. Now, beg for me."

I wanted to turn and walk from the room, but I remembered the sword. I
bowed my head nearly to the floor and groveled before her.

"Please, Your Highness, great lady. Please let me have you. Let me share
your bed tonight." And so forth. I continued to debase myself in this way
for several minutes, wondering when at last she would stop me, and feeling
hate grow for her in my heart.

"Enough, Pilo," she said at long last, "Your Mistress hears your pleas and
will consider them. Tonight you shall share my bed, if you prove worthy. I
have three tests for you. A man worthy to be a consort to a Queen must
prove himself, do you not agree? Tolo, leave us."

Tolo looked at her pleadingly.

"Oh, dear boy, don't look so hopeless. Go, fetch the old woman from the
tower. Now, Tolo."

He left the room wordlessly, brushing past me with contempt.

"I like you already, Pilo," the Queen said, sipping some wine, "it is a
shame I must surely give you to the Ambassador tomorrow. I'd love to keep
you."

My mind filled with questions, but Valessa brushed past this comment
brusquely.

"The first test is the test of desire." She rose, taking a few slow,
luxurious steps toward me. "I want to see how much you want me,
Pilo. Remove your clothes."

A knot was slowly twisting in the pit of my stomach, but I did as
commanded. I soon stood undressed before her, naked save for Errold's
amulet that hung about my neck, and feeling cold and vulnerable as she
studied my body.  Without warning, her dress collapsed about her and fell
to floor, exposing her nakedness as well. In my mind I was suddenly in
wedding ceremony with Shara, with the Elders standing in a circle about us
and raising prayers in the Sacred Tongue. I had turned from that challenge,
fleeing it with all my might, only to find myself in such a situation once
again. Was it my doom to face such challenges again and again? Or was this
the fitting punishment to my prior failure? Here, it seemed, was the moment
Valen had warned me of. It had come too soon. I wanted more time to
prepare, but there was none.

It is always such. A man who expects to be prepared and ready for every
twist and turn of his life will find himself the most disappointed of men.

"Look at me, Pilo," she commanded, and I did. Her eyes caught mine like a
hook catches a fish, and I knew I could not look away. It was the power of
the she-witch in the dungeon once again.

Her eyes flashed and her womanhood folded open like a mysterious and exotic
flower, and my mind was filled with an onslaught of alien thoughts so
powerful I almost lost myself at once, almost launched myself at her to
have her right then. Nothing was so beautiful, so desirable as her. My
every muscle, bone, and joint longed to be near her. There was nothing I
would not do to please her, nothing I would not face to defend her. I was
hers, utterly and forever, and I lived and died by her smile and her
favor. For long, long seconds I struggled to find myself and sweat dripped
down my face. I could not look away, and knew that I must not. Still, I
tried to find the strength to resist her power. I tried to imagine
attractive men, but in my imagination they kept morphing back into her, my
new goddess. For one last desperate moment, I realized that Valen had been
wrong about me. That my personal tastes in lovers made me no more immune to
the seductions of the Queen than any other man, and that our plan had
failed utterly.

Here I must pause to collect myself.

**More to come very soon! Please feel free to contact me at
thephallocrat@gmail.com. For those who have written previously, thank you
and feel free to stay in touch any time! Also thanks to my helpful
editor. You know who you are.**