Aleksey's Kingdom (9 page)

I had to laugh. “I was entirely confounded, I do admit.”

“You were lucky it was not one of the other men who discovered you so. I think her story would then have been believed more readily.”

I pursed my lips, slightly annoyed by his implication. “I
could
have been ravishing her. I am not… incapable.”

He laughed again. “Oh, trust me, I am very aware of that.” He sobered then. “That was very strange, though, do you not think? Why would she do that?”

I shrugged. “She tried to seduce me, and when she saw it had failed, she got angry and took her opportunity for revenge?”

“Yes, I got
that
. But what good wife decides to seduce a man she has known for less than a day when her husband is mere feet away?” I liked the way he added this, as if the proximity of her husband should make a difference to a good wife’s seduction plans. I smiled, despite the situation. He then added quite seriously, “I suppose you are the most beautiful of all of us, and even the most godly would not resist you.” He glanced behind to ensure we were still alone and pulled me into his arms for a kiss. He had called me beautiful, so I was very willing to indulge him for a while. But I knew Aleksey only too well and saw he would now have something else to worry at and discuss and enjoy gossiping about. Only too soon, he pulled away and asked, “Do you think we should warn the other men? Imagine if it had been Owen and not you she picked on…. What an odd woman.”

I made a noncommittal reply and began to walk back toward the camp. We were too exposed to risk more than a kiss, and if we continued, I would need a great deal more, and that is always hard to hide when you are a man. I told him we should keep our knowledge about Mrs. Mary Wright to ourselves (which I now know was a very bad error on my part). I did not do it out of any gentlemanly motives but more because I needed to think privately upon her. When she had removed my shirt, she had been completely naked. I had seen a great deal, most of which did not interest me at all. The marks of an old, severe lashing upon her back did, however. Godly wives, in my experience, did not get lashed like common whores.

“What?” Aleksey had caught at my arm. “What is wrong?”

I debated keeping this new knowledge to myself, but then reflected I had too many lies with Aleksey just then—in my experience it was easier to only have a few, and thus I could keep them straight in my mind and more believable. Besides, this was not my secret but hers, and I didn’t like her and saw no reason to keep it for her.

I told him what I had seen. He seemed surprised, as well he might, and began to say what I had first thought—that it indicated she was not the good woman she pretended to be. Suddenly his eyes opened wide. “Perhaps she was not a widow but a maid without virtue. Oh”—he actually crossed himself—“perhaps she lay with the
devil
and the child is a demon!”

I shook my head in amazed wonder at the ridiculousness of his brain. “Come, I am hungry. I like the food we are having on this expedition, and I am very pleased with you for inviting me along. When we are seated, you can tell me more about the princesses and queens you have bedded.” He knew by my tone not to speculate more. But unwittingly I had now given that young man something else to play with in his mind, to tease at and chew over. I only hoped his theory on all this was more to my liking than his cannibal one. As we walked together back to the table, I murmured, “By the way, I would leave off crossing yourself, Your Highness. You are in enemy territory now, remember? If they do not burn you for being a sodomite, they might for being a papist. There is only one way to worship, apparently, and I am fairly sure the Reverend Wright had his way handed to him directly from God.”

T
HE
EVENING
meal was very good indeed, but I did not get to enjoy it much. We began with discussing the food supplies, which well we might, given the great quantities we were eating with every meal. I was informed that our current supplies would run out in another two days or so, and then we would rely on hunting. The conversation turned to the musketry the trappers had brought with them, and with a rueful smile Aleksey showed everyone the bruise upon his shoulder where the recoil had taken him unawares. I had been wondering over something since we had sat at the table and since I had been observing the lowered head and eyes of the young wife. Casually, therefore, I asked her if her crossing to the New World had been easy. I say casually, but of course, all conversation stopped when I spoke, for a man does not address another’s wife so. She could hardly refuse to reply, despite what had occurred between us earlier, and said that, yes, it had been quite acceptable.

“You left from Southampton, I believe?”

She nodded and took a modest nibble of her bread.

“How did you like it?” I could feel Aleksey’s eyes boring into me. He alone around the table knew how uncharacteristic was this speaking of mine.

“I liked it well enough, sir.”

“I remember wondering at Rudyard’s lighthouse. Was it not an impressive sight?”

She inclined her head again. “Yes, sir, my poor dear husband wondered at it greatly.”

“Did you stop and pay your toll?”

Once more she indicated assent, and I let it drop.

I was aware the reverend’s eyes were upon me, and naturally I assumed his wife had told him her version of the story by the river, although she was on very unstable ground if she had, for I had a witness—an unimpeachable one at that. But apparently this was not the train of his thoughts, for he suddenly asked, “Hartmann, is that correct, sir?”

I replied that it was.

“I knew a family called Hartmann. We traveled from England together on
The James
. Three months. Terrible journey. Isaiah Hartmann and his good wife, Grace. They had a little boy about my son’s age. I do not remember his name. Always running here and there and making a noise.”

I could feel all eyes upon me. I tried a nonchalant shrug. “It is a common name, sir.” This did not help my cause, for the old man persisted.

“Indeed, sir. It is. But this man, Isaiah, had your look about him. Very tall, I remember, and his hair just the gold of yours. I remember him well, for he was a man of God, and spoke most passionately about reform.”

“Many men of God come to this land, sir. I suspect most are very sure what God—” I sensed more than saw Aleksey’s frown of warning and moderated my response, mumbling once again, “Common name.”

“Perhaps distant relations? What
was
your father’s name? Mayhap I knew him as well.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and then replied, “It is a long time ago, sir. But you are right. Now that I think on it, we were on
The James
.”

I could feel Aleksey’s eyes on me particularly now, for I had told him that I did not remember my parents or my time in the colony. Well this had been only a partial lie, for I only recollected little things. Now, however, thanks to the good reverend, I began to recall more. The reverend’s pleased response to my words faded to a dull drone, for it occurred to me why I had forgotten—the memories were not good ones. Clearly they had been suppressed, and not lost at all. I could recapture some of our time upon the ship, for I had loved the ocean then and had found particular favor with the sailors, being only four and energetic and interested in anything that was not to do with religion and observance and discipline and other such boring things. Reflecting on that journey now at the table, it occurred to me for the first time why I had fallen so quickly and so irrevocably in love with James Harcourt. I think I must have seen in him and his life aboard the whaling ship a return to the last time in which I had been truly happy and free. I had associated him with love and freedom. No wonder I had found the truth of what he was and what he wanted from me so dreadful.

I had not thought upon my life in our colony for many years now, but revisiting it as suddenly as I did then shocked me. Grace. Isaiah. I could hear my father calling for my mother to help him with something, my mother remonstrating with him: “Isaiah, I cannot, the baby….” For of course, my little sister, Elizabeth, had been born in the colony—a freeborn child of the American Colonies and not a European. It had been such a celebration of their commitment to their God. Elizabeth. Beth. Bessie.

I could actually feel the weight of her in my arms as I had carried her, running after our parents as their captors dragged them from our home. I could hear her fearful screams and remembered my attempts to quiet her so they would not turn upon her. And my mother, of course. Grace Hartmann. Her hair blonde as mine is now but loose and flowing behind her. She had been taken and stripped. I had never seen her hair loose before. Or her naked flesh. She had been very godly and modest, as befitted one who had such a harsh devotion to her God.

I closed my eyes and stopped listening to the voices around the table.

Could a man become a man like me because of such horror at so young an age? That was a revelation I had never considered before. Such a violent and unexpected exposure to a woman and her weaknesses and beauty all tied up with horror and pain and screams and blood and… and all the rest. Did I witness my mother’s ravishment and dreadful death and then have that imprinted upon my brain somehow, triggering a reaction to women later in life that had led me to be as I am? This was a very unpleasant train of thought, as you can imagine.

Suddenly Aleksey gave a huge yawn and declared that he was exhausted from such a long day of riding. I opened my eyes and saw all brows rise in surprise, because he was clearly, to any consideration, a very fit young man, but all rose politely and nodded as he left the table and headed to the tent that had been erected for him. He suddenly stopped and declared with a frown of annoyance, “You must not come in late and disturb me, Doctor. Perhaps you should sleep in another tent? Oh, there is not one. That is unfortunate. In that case, you must come now. I will not have my sleep disrupted.” Occasionally, Aleksey’s missed vocation upon the stage was useful. I dutifully followed him. I had been doing this for some years now when it suited me. It suited me to that night.

Faelan took some coaxing to get into the tent, as he did not trust its odd off-white confines. I did not want him sleeping outside, as we would very likely have a severe frost after such a cloudless day, and he was too old and cranky to have to listen to his complaints all the next day about his aching bones. We got him to stretch out across the entrance, which left us just enough room to lie side by side with our cold toes nicely buried in his warm fur. I could feel his light snores through the soles of my feet. Everyone else seemed to have taken our example, and we could hear the good nights and other general chatter of a camp settling down for the night.

Aleksey left it as long as he could bear and then insisted very quietly, “Tell me.”

So I did.

I told him of my memories: the ship and being the favorite of all the sailors and how I had thrived on the adventure; of my sister’s birth and the great celebration of the new life she represented; of the attack by the Powponi and how my parents had been dragged to their deaths; the torture they had endured, being baptized again and again in boiling water so they would renounce their faith; of me watching with my baby sister in my arms and the fear that they would turn upon her, which they did eventually, as she had no use and could not keep up when we had been forced to move with them. Aleksey held me very tightly, listening. Finally I told him of my new theory, that it was horror that had set me on my path and made me a man who finds comfort only with other men, and that this, therefore, was not a conscious or good choice, but one I had made through fear and cowardice.

When I was done, he put his face close to mine.

There was absolute dark in the tent, as if we were deep underground, and I could not even see an outline of his head.

I knew where he was by his soft breath upon my cheek. “I have a theory.”

I actually managed a rueful laugh at this. “I thought you might.”

“Do you know how gold is found in riverbeds—when you put the grit from the bottom into a pan with holes and shake it until all the dross falls out, leaving only the gold?”

“How do you know of this? You know nothing of any use ever.”

“Ah, there you are wrong, my savage one. I know many things that I agree have not been all that useful since we came here, but you must remember I am a king. I am very highly educated in all things that are not very useful. And who has more gold—you or me?”

“And that childish cock-measuring is relevant to me how?”

“Well, I think that most people’s lives are like that pan—not shaken very much and therefore left full of useless dross. But your life has been unusually… agitated, and what is left, Niko? You are the pure gold remaining, that is what.” He ruffled my hair, although he could not see it in the darkness. “Pure gold. And I am a king, so you cannot argue, for gold is one thing I do know more about than you.”

I nodded, but as it was so dark added the murmur of agreement he would want to hear. He put his head down upon my chest, and we were very quiet for some time, both lost in our own thoughts. I felt myself drifting to sleep, so pulled his face up to kiss him before I did and then frowned. His cheeks were wet with tears. I could taste them as I kissed him. I held him off. “What is wrong? Have I done something to upset you?” I was fairly sure I had not, for once, which was why I risked asking this.

He shook his head, but I would not let him turn from me. Eventually he said with some genuine distress, “Why is the world like this, Niko? We came here and said this was my kingdom and that my law applied here, but nothing has changed. We still have to pretend that we are not what we are to each other. I see you so upset at dinner, and I want to hold you and ask you what is wrong, as I would be able to if you were my wife. We ride side by side all day, and I want them to think what a beautiful couple we are and aren’t I lucky to have you, and other such nonsense that people think about two people who are in love. But none of that is for us, is it? We hide and lie and pretend and it is all
shit
!”