Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire (2 page)

I felt the
King’s relief. It brightened the air. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now we must
be charitable.’

They dragged
the boy away, his feet trailing in the churned dust as if his
ankles were broken. I felt an absurd sense of anger for the way
he’d affected me, and again caught Porfarryah’s eye. We sneered in
complicity, and I thought the matter closed.

I had been
with the royal army for three months, for my lord, King Alofel, had
ordered my presence. I had no love of war. Noblemen who once had
glided about the court, talking in hushed voices of high and
philosophical ideas, now relished wallowing in the blood. They even
seemed to take pleasure in their own injuries, boasting about the
fires at night of the hurts they had received and inflicted.

The King, my
Lord, as ever an acetic presence, commented little. He rode
silently among his men, never courting danger, but never shying
from it. His sword flashed redly with the rest of them, but I knew
he took no pleasure in it. It was his duty as guardian of the land,
nothing more.

Mewt is a hot,
arid country, and we had harried the Khan to the foothills of
Sessalia; a crop of unforgiving, rocky spikes where water and food
were scarce. Here, the war had been ended. It had begun over a
dispute concerning the xandrite mines in the mountains of Lorgh
Hash that swept down into both our countries from Elatine. Cos and
Mewt each claimed ownership of the mines - although technically
they must belong to Elatine. The meek Elatinians, however, would
side with whoever seemed strongest and never dare to claim
ownership themselves. Harakhte, the Khan of Mewt, recently-crowned,
young and ambitious had decided to end the centuries of bickering.
The answer was simple. The mines belonged by sacred law to the holy
land of Mewt. Naturally, the Cossics objected to this and what
began as a territorial skirmish escalated into full-scale combat.
Allies from other lands were recruited, and the fighting ranged
long and bloody throughout the reaches of two years. Now, it was
ended, and Harakhte lay dead, taken by an arrow through the throat
- which unhorsed him - followed by a barrage of dismembering
sword-thrusts. There would be little left to display to his
grieving people. His armies had lost heart after his death, and
soon a puppet lord would sit upon the Bull Throne in Mewt. People
speculated that Alofel would woo Menefer, the younger brother of
Harakhte - it was rumoured he could be bought. Harakhte’s remains
had been placed in a regal sarcophagus by the conquering king and
delivered to the generals of Mewt along with praises for Harakhte’s
courage. A strong party of our own generals and their men
accompanied the sarcophagus, surrounding a slyness of Cossic
advisors, who would arrange the new government.

I did not see
the Khan’s boy again until we reached home, the city of Tarnax,
capital of Cos. I rode behind the army on the beautiful white pony
that the King had given to me for my last birthday. At my side,
Porfarryah sat astride a lean, black destrier. Citizens lined the
street and keened in our victory, throwing us flowers, lucky coins
and painted feathers bound with ribbons. The atmosphere was
intoxicating. I was glad to be home.

The Queen
waited on a balcony of the palace. Its balustrade was draped with
golden tapestries and garlands of flowers. She was surrounded by a
horde of young concubines - all of whom she loathed - and the three
little princes, two of which were her own children.

There was only
one Queen, but she resented having to share her husband. In her
country, Kings were allowed only one woman, officially. Theirs had
been a marriage of convenience, a mating of land rather than souls.
Of course, she loved Alofel, for who could not? He was a slim, tall
man, with a flag of bright gold hair, and a noble face. When he
spoke, his voice was quiet. He gave the illusion of feyness, but
everyone was aware of his power and his strength. I, as his
favourite, knew him the most intimately. He would confide things to
me he would never speak of to Porfarryah or her sisters. Sensitive
to how this state of affairs could provoke trouble for me, from the
day of my arrival at court, I had curried favour with the women. I
counted all of the concubines as my friends, and we were united in
our suspicion and dislike of the queen.

More
importantly, I had ingratiated myself with several members of the
King’s Council, which on my seventeenth birthday had resulted in me
being voted into an honorary seat. The position was not secure, and
although I could speak whenever I wished, there were only certain,
inconsequential matters on which I was allowed to vote. I could be
removed at any time, should I fall from the king’s favour. Still, I
had strong allies among the Council, for they knew I had Alofel’s
ear, at times when he was most amenable. Mallory too had friends on
the Council, and occasionally official meetings were little more
than a game of wits. The Queen wanted to have her own place there,
but Alofel would never grant her that wish. I do not think he was
concerned about her having more power, but rather that he was a
traditional man, and expected his wife to enact the domestic role
played by generations of royal women before her. Under other
circumstances, I might have supported her ambitions. Despite our
mutual animosity, I admired her strength and intelligence and
recognised that, given a free rein, she would have been an asset to
Cos’ government. Still, even if there was grudging respect between
us, there was no chance of alliance or friendship.

Our party
entered under the great arch of the palace and ahead of us, the sky
was dominated by the monstrous temple of Challis Hespereth, queen
of heaven and earth, mother of all the gods. The fane was
constructed as a titanic likeness of its deity. Clouds of
vividly-coloured birds circled the mass of stone, released from on
high by rejoicing priests and priestesses. The army had veered off
towards the barracks, so only the members of the royal household
who had accompanied the King on campaign, and his generals and
advisors, were left in the group. Once the soaring gates had closed
behind us, we all dismounted and a crowd of stable-boys and
servants ran up to attend to our mounts and our luggage. Porfarryah
complained of thirst.

There would be
a formal reception to welcome home the King, but first we would all
repair to our chambers to refresh ourselves in private and bathe
away the stains of travel and war.

Porfarryah and
I walked into the palace together, past the knot of grieving ladies
who had realised, by now, that their husbands were not among those
who had returned home.

The palace is
white, but its great halls at ground level are very dark inside.
Dark and cool, their grey flagstone floors covered in red carpets.
The love I felt for the palace was physical. I looked about me at
the familiar, massive marble columns, grey in the gloom, the glint
of old gold, where gigantic urns stood on plinths among the
columns, the sweep of stairs with their thousands of shallow steps,
swaying this way and that towards the galleries on the first floor.
Muted white, dull gold and deepest crimson; these are the colours
of the halls of Tarnax. The air smelled sweet and clean, as if
fresh hay had been strewn everywhere. It was the odour of a special
incense, blended in the monasteries in the hills behind the
city.

I had chambers
on the third floor, high above the city. It was where all the
King’s concubines and favourites lived. He had other boys, apart
from me, but he used their services rarely, preferring to lend them
out to visiting dignitaries and ambassadors from other lands.
Subservient lords were forever sending their beautiful sons and
daughters as gifts for the King. Some, he partook of only once, out
of politeness and quite often, they eventually ended up in the
household of some Duke or another. Alofel didn’t like to think of
any of his people being bored and the life of a concubine must
necessarily be one of relaxation. Also, those whom the King ignored
could only enjoy low status among their ranks, so it was for the
best that some were moved on. Porfarryah and I were privileged, but
we did not make the mistake of believing our positions were secure.
At any time, another girl or boy could come to the palace and take
Alofel’s eye, if not his heart. Sometimes, when we thought it
expedient, we had resorted to poison. Not murder, but something
more subtle, that destroyed good looks and slurred the speech, made
the body smell foul. Alofel only liked beautiful things.

‘
He will
call for you tonight,’ Porfarryah said and we walked slowly to the
third floor.

‘
No, for
you,’ I said. It was a ritual between us, for in truth, we could
never guess. The only certainty was that it would be one or the
other of us, at least for an hour. Then the Queen might have him,
if she was lucky. After that, a lesser concubine, when he was
tired, or a boy with whose own pleasure Alofel was not
concerned.

As we mounted
the final steps to the third floor, a host of downy girls in
floating gowns of pale colours came running down the corridor. They
virtually dragged us onto the landing, covering us with kisses,
wrapping us in their soft, perfumed arms. ‘Tell us stories! Did you
see the battles? Were you ever in danger?’ Later, we would have to
gratify their curiosity, but for now, we pleaded tiredness and were
able to escape to our own chambers.

I bathed and
dressed myself with care, attended by my servant, Wezling. Just as
he was finishing arranging my hair, a messenger came to the chamber
door. ‘The King has asked for your attendance,’ I was told. This
was unusual. It was not the hour when my art was required.

I presented
myself at the royal apartment and was ushered into the King’s
presence. He received me in his sitting-room, a place where we had
often dallied in erotic play. It was a comfortable room, swathed in
draperies, cool in summertime, warm in winter. The King wore only
his dressing-robe and was standing up. I sensed that something was
bothering him and prostrated myself with extra diligence.

‘
Rise,
Darien,’ he told me. ‘There is something you must do for
me.’

I gestured
widely with my arms to indicate I would do all within my humble
power to accommodate his desires.

‘
Akaten,’ he said. ‘This night, he will attend my
bed-chamber, but it would please me if you would sit with him after
the servants have made him ready. His state of mind is skittish.
Sit with him until the banquet is over. You should miss only half
an hour or so of merriment.’

At first, I
was at a loss for the name Akaten meant nothing to me. Of course, I
nodded vigorously and declared that it would be my pleasure to do
this thing. Inside, I was perturbed that this unknown person had
taken the place of Porfarryah or myself. It was a departure from
routine and I was immediately suspicious of it. Had some lord sent
the thing we feared at last; a beauty to command the eyes of the
King?

‘
My
squire will come for you at the appointed time,’ Alofel said. ‘I
would be grateful if you could attempt to assuage Akaten’s fears.
You are a gentle boy, Darien. I’m sure he will trust
you.’

Trust me? I
fought down a surge of anger. ‘Is he familiar with palace
procedure, my lord?’ I enquired delicately. ‘That is, how long has
he been resident here?’

Alofel looked
at me blankly for a moment, then enlightenment dawned. ‘It is the
Khan’s boy,’ he said.

I felt a wing
of doom brush the palace roof.

I confided my
fears to Porfarryah as soon as possible, even going to her chamber
before the reception began. She listened with complete attention,
the pupils of her dark eyes wide with a potential for attack. ‘Be
observant,’ she advised. ‘Talk to him, befriend him. We must take
care. This Akaten is a king’s boy too. He will match you in art.
Alofel was touched by his loyalty to his dead lord. It took them
some minutes to disengage him from the corpse. I heard only an hour
ago, that he attempted suicide on the journey back from Mewt.
Alofel himself stopped the blood, and sat by the boy’s bedside for
half the night. It is unsettling that the king’s body-servants felt
the need to keep quiet about this.’

I shook my
head, aghast. ‘I am troubled. I don’t deny it.’ Never before had
such information been kept from me. Usually, Alofel’s servants fell
over themselves in their haste to pass me morsels of gossip.

Porfarryah
brushed my fears aside with a careless gesture of her hand. ‘A
minor inconvenience, I’m sure. Let Alofel have his fun attempting
to woo a boy who looks upon him as a murderer. It will not last.
Chances are he’ll throw himself from the palace roof at the first
opportunity!’

Torches burned
low on the walls as I followed the King’s squire to the royal
chambers. I was not sad to leave the banquet, for my evening had
been poisoned by the thought of this thorn that had come to embed
itself in Alofel’s flesh. I was not stupid in my jealousy, for I
knew the boy, Akaten, had not designed the circumstance. I
suspected he would be indifferent to it, but his indifference was
irrelevant. He existed, he was a potential threat. I would be a
friend to him, for now.

The squire
left me in the ante-chamber to the king’s bedroom. Here, I examined
myself in a mirror on the wall to check I looked my best. Then I
opened the final door as quietly as possible, so as to give myself
a few moments’ private scrutiny of the rival before he was made
aware of my presence.

The windows
were open to the night, admitting the perfumes of the summer city,
and the lilting chime of music from the banqueting-hall. Climbing
vines had crept into the room, festooned with fleshy, blue flowers
that smelled of spring rain: mingvolvus; the creeping lover of the
god, Tantanphuel. Akaten was there beside the window, his knees
pressed against the sill. The King’s chamber was on an upper floor
of the palace; it was eight stories to the gardens below. If a body
should fall from that window, its flight would be impeded by the
stone arms of caryatids and gargoyles, or else impaled. I could see
him thinking of his own death, and he was achingly lovely as he did
so: the archetype of all the boys ever loved by kings. His hair,
unbound, flowed down him like a veil; the colour of dark honey. His
eye, in profile, was slightly slanted, its cat-like shape
accentuated by a kiss of kohl. They had dressed him in a simple
tabard and leggings. His ribs were bare at the sides, showing a
tawny swatch of flesh, a braid of rib and muscle. He was effeminate
in his beauty, but also intensely masculine. There was little
softness of line about him. I watched him, transfixed.