Part 11: Revelations

SILK

In an informal manner the hunting party rode back, spread out over half a mile or more the riders formed small clusters, continuing their pointless games of intrigue. The ponderous provisions wagon led the way, while the king indolently 'brought up' the rear. A faint melody still floating on the breeze disclosed Edwin's presence, still fluting for the king, probably by his side.

Silk had struck out with Morgan, once again on his own horse he felt a little more restored in his position - for a few moments at least he could forget just how bad his life had become over the past few weeks. he had lost everything, his mother, his lover, his crown, and the respect of his rival. Things could hardly get any worse. By now, he realised that he could be little better than an outlaw in his own country. Morgan at least in the short term provided some distraction, she still seemed a little annoyed at him, but much of her anger had faded – she was too fickle to stay pouty for long. The girl seemed to be making an effort to efface herself, and be sociable – a difficult combination for her. Earnestly Silk endured her stifled façade, appreciating the effort she made.

Morgan had looked so beautiful, so fragile when he found her. He had wanted her there on the forest floor. It had taken all the subterfuge learned during his time with Edwin to hide his need from her. He remembered indulgently the stolen kiss, that day as they arrived at the Stronghold. They had never mentioned it, but the memory of it tormented Silk. Her beauty was not the elegant, and false beauty of courtly ladies supplied by servant with tints and powders, but rather a fresh faced beauty, natural and all the more radiant for its simplicity. It was easy though, to forget this beauty when she was being querulous and acerbic.

With great difficulty Silk pushed Edwin and Armand from his mind, finding Morgan hard enough work on her own, without other worries also. Awkwardly the young king tried talking, attempting some stimulating conversation, a common ground on which to build, she seemed to listen only sporadically - alternating between avid interest and obvious boredom. He found it hard to discover her true sentiments, but then, in his limited experience with women this was nothing new. She had lived her whole life in Midian, and was very cosseted. She was so ignorant of many courtly things, as to almost belie her nobility – there was a fire in her eyes though, one that set her aside from a common born. Airs and graces she had by the barrelfull, many were well above her rank – high as it was, being the daughter of the king's BROTHER (?). Silk felt though that a firm husband to domesticate her, and perhaps a few children would calm her spoiled ways. Her fiery temperament – confident yet truculent - would give the Surrendian Ladies a run for their money and leave no room for questions.

Eventually Edwin's music stopped, Silk resisted the near consuming urge to look back for him. For a few moments the absence of fluting created a silent, vacumous aspect abroad the forest. Inevitably though the buoyant forest atmosphere rushed in to fill the gap.

Before the hunting party reached the Outer Wall, Morgan had begun to doze, lulled by the heat and the rocking of the wagon. In sleep she looked younger. The almost permanent pout had fallen from her lips, and the petulant frown erased from her brow, she seemed almost childlike in her innocence. In truth she was an innocent, only her spoiled upbringing tainted her kindly temperament.

Silk knew that he could remain in Carthia only a short while longer, every moment he was away Hannah's grip on the throne would be increasing. The blamed serving girl had not come this way, all his errands had been fulfilled, as much as was possible, it was obvious that his mother's murder had nothing to do with Armand – the new king was by far more interested in spending his kingdoms wealth than increasing it. Silk doubted that, despite his clever words, and veiled threats, Armand would go to war – it would interfere with having a good time too much. Still though, Silk felt that there was a loose end to tie up here before he left. Morgan must be his. She would be the key to regaining his throne, it was obvious that Armand was not interested in her, so he had no competition there. She would make a fine queen and mother – with a little guidance, already she had changed, grown up. He felt that in future years he would be able to go off questing without worrying about his crown, she would be capable of holding it for him.

Silk frowned as an errant fly buzzed indolently around Morgan's face, it was enough to disturb her

"Are we there yet?" she asked, her voice soft and yielding, full of a sleepy contentedness

"Nearly My Lady" Silk replied, a tone of possessiveness tinged his voice, more than he had intended, but she seemed not to notice.

The Outer Wall eventually loomed ahead. As the group passed through it's umbrage they closed file, attempting some degree of dignity. Now even without looking behind Silk could tell that the king and Edwin were no longer with the group, for Armand's rich, distinctive tones were inaudible.

(date ref: april 26th)

LORD EDWIN

Edwin had felt totally at ease draped over Armand. He had seen the court look away, knowing that the eastern stranger enjoyed too much familiarity, but at the same time unwilling to acknowledge his position with their king. This did not bother Edwin, other people mattered not to him, only his companions voice was important.

He had been unwilling to dismount, to relinquish pride of place, but had wisely ceded, knowing he had been lucky.

He had watched Armand and Silk in turn fuss over Morgan, who despite her babyish mentality had managed to be fairly dignified about her ankle – which must have been causing her a lot of pain. The lord felt sure that Armand only bothered with her to annoy Silk - she was not his type. Edwin felt nothing but disdain for her. She better than anyone, save Elysium, knew how unsafe that horse was. Indeed only a scant week ago they had discussed it and declared it unfit for her to ride. And she had watched it for more than one day constantly try to kill him – then she tried to take it stag hunting. Edwin could not respect anyone that stupid, nor could he put it down to an act of bravery, Morgan was not that type either.

The lord milled with the crowd until Armand seated himself, then he took up a place nearby, but still at a respectful distance. He took out his pipe and played. His sorrowful eyes never leaving Armand's face. He played his song of life, originally composed for Silk. The melody had flowed simpler when he had played it to Silk, it had been more direct. Edwin found that his new emotions twisted the song as he played it. The complexities embodied by the notes came from the depths of his heart, gushing forth for the whole world to hear.

Triumphantly he saw his tune strike Armand's heart. Living then only for the music he ignored the food and played on. Carried by the gentle summer winds the young lords soul floated across the forest.

As times are wont to do, it became time for them to pack up and leave. The slaves did the actual packing, and the nobles unsteadily mounted their horses, languidly the party moved out.

Still playing, Edwin had moved through the horse lines, looking for a 'suitable' mount. Eventually he found a weak looking grey, it was holding one of it's legs pathetically. As unobtrusively as possible Edwin took the horse off. It was managing to just about walk normally when they set out, but would shortly be obtrusively lame – long before they reached the Stronghold.

The lord took a place toward the back of the train, and continued with his piping. Given it's head the horse ambled along, favouring it's bad leg. Edwin watched the party get further and further ahead. He saw Silk riding by Morgan, his eyes nearly constantly upon her – and felt sick. He played on, the tone of his tune took on an inviting tone, beckoning to Armand. He watched as the king's horse slowed, and dropped back from the body of the group. Gradually they drew level, losing ground on the others with every stride. Armand rode next to him in silence, appreciating the music still. Still they fell further and further behind the others, until eventually they were out of earshot

Edwin put his pipe away, the quiet engulfing their minds, unhurriedly the forests life washed over them, the myriad of singularly inaudible noises adding up to a peaceful resonance

"your horse looks lame, Edwin" the king said eventually, his voice warm and inviting, then he added"

we seem to be alone" the kings rich, well modulated voice sent shivers of delight down Edwin's back. They walked on through the forest, the young lord totally at ease. He could not fathom the kings exact mood, but that he tolerated him was enough – he was alone with Armand, what more could he want?

Their journey was uneventful until they met a flowing stream. Its rushing waters were deep enough to reach the horses bellies. The tired animals plunged grateful into the cool waters, burying their noses in the refreshing liquid. Edwin resisted the urge to playfully push Armand from his horse, such an action would have been well received by Silk, but Edwin knew that Armand would not react in the same way. They were more than worlds apart Edwin decided, Armand was more complex and darkly motivated than any other person he knew. The lord could not help but love the king. He seemed so close to the divine. Sometimes, like then, Edwin felt vastly inferior to Armand.

The Carthian king was dressed in an expensive outfit, almost too tasteful, it managed to combine superciliousness and opulence in a faultless way – even after a days riding there were no wrinkles, his hair still hung in exact ringlets, his cosmetics unbesmirched. In a contrast to this Edwin himself still wore the same clothes from the day before, having neglected to return to his rooms to change. They were by now very dusty and crinkled, his own hair now hung wherever it pleased, the locks drab and even slightly dirty. Edwin cursed himself, his thoughts had been so engrossed with Armand that he had totally overlooked his own appearance. With a sigh of self-reproach, the lord plunged himself sideways into the water. With a great splash he joined the cool water. His horse shied, pitching into Armand's mount

"Hey!"

the king called out with surprise as his horse too shied away from the water spray. Edwin resurfaced in time to see the king splash into the stream, covering him with another wave. Laughing Edwin swam over and splashed the king. To his relief Armand was not angry, his eyes were bright with a form of amusement. for a long while they swam and played, while the horses looked on.

Although the king went through the motions of youthful exuberance, Edwin felt that there was something missing. Edwin had not seen the young king mix with any peers since his arrival, although he mixed and talked with the court, he held no one as a close friend. it was not that he alienated himself, indeed they all loved him, but rather that he did not need any of them, his plans were his own. Perhaps while growing he had had no peers with whom to play, had his position kept him apart? It seemed that for Armand this was a very rare moment of playfulness, for innocent fun. Edwin knew he was privileged, but also felt that perhaps Armand was humouring him

Eventually chilled and tired, they clambered from the water. Betraying his inexperience yet again the king wasted to mount and ride back straight away

"humbly, sire. It is bad to ride when so sodden, please, the clothes must dry a little – the damp causes augers of the chest" Armand shot him a doubting look, but followed Edwin's lead, undressing and hanging his dripping clothes over a sunny bush without a word of protest.

They lay on the soft grass soaking in the evening rays of sunshine. Both enjoying the peace and privacy – for surely here, miles from the Stronghold, their privacy was far more complete than within the ancient walls. Armand lay on his back, staring up at the impossibly blue sky, Edwin, upon his belly gazed dreamily at the king, savouring every moment. Edwin held each one to his heart, recognising the rare treasures of life when shown them. He had wit enough to realise that just as his carefree childhood days with Silk abruptly ended when Morgan showed up, so too, eventually, would Armand throw him aside. One day, when the captivating king finally grew bored of Edwin's passionate attentions, or when someone new – a woman – came along, he would be cast aside, hidden like a foul tramp littering the street, the traces of his love eradicated like a foul growth.

Within the young lord these emotions boiled and grew as he thought of the inevitable rejection, the maelstrom grew in strength, till his hands trembled with hurt.

(date ref may 2nd vol 2)

ARMAND

A single cloud floated over the sun. for a brief moment the world darkened, a momentary chill accompanied the cloud over the Carthian landscape. So alone was the cloud as to make its presence seem almost solitary. Then, as swiftly as it had appeared it had gone on its way, floating out to sea, dismissing the cloud from his thoughts Armand considered instead Edwin. The lad had been staring broodingly at him since they lay down, Armand did not mind this, it was natural that the obviously enamoured lad would want to look at him. He was, after all a handsome sight, clothed or not. He reflected for a moment ruefully on his bedraggled state – he would never normally return to the Stronghold soaking wet – if a little dried out at the edges – his appearance was unfailingly always spotless. But, he decided that he in all probability still looked fetching even when half drowned.

The king turned his head to look at Edwin, the boys intense brown eyes were still gazing moody at him. The lord was not unattractive, his features broad but sensual, a passion for life showed clearly in every inch of the boy. Armand had never met someone who burned so deeply, surely this fierce passion would be his own undoing. The limitations within his soul were surely so far apart that they had never been tested. Armand wondered if Edwin himself even knew his own limits, he suspected not. The boy seemed too ardent in his nature to actually question the things he did. Armand found himself to be the opposite, he never did anything without first thinking it through, his brain so agile though that this logically never delayed his actions. This was rather where the grace of his movements came from, every action deliberate, planned.

The king wondered how far he could push the lord, new thoughts had been stirred in his soul, a strange hunger had been awakened, one that he had not experienced before. It was this and only this that kept Armand interested in Edwin. The young nobles love would always remain unrequited...

Something changed in Edwin's eyes, as if he knew what Armand had been thinking, the lads hands were shaking. Suddenly chilled, Armand shuddered, and looked round for his clothes.

"Cold?" Edwin asked informally. Armand caught an odd poignancy to his voice. He looked the prone lord up and down for a moment, gauging the stormy lad's mood

"just a passing breeze" Edwin nodded

Armand went to stand, to reach for his clothes, Edwin reached out and touched him. Lightly, his fingers traced a line along his chest, Armand caught his hand, holding it tightly, almost crushing it. Forcefully, but smoothly the king brought the lord's hand up, away from his abdomen.

"not now" he said, irritated by the lads informality and lack of attention to titles- all his life everyone had treated him as a superior. Undeterred, Edwin moved closer to the king, trying to kiss him "I said no" the kings inhuman reflexes shot his elbow round insanely fast. It contacted Edwin's jaw before he even knew it was coming. Armand watched him fly backward, flat out on the ground. Armand reached for his riding whip and lashed out with it even as Edwin rolled to protect himself, the whip cut a red welt across his back. Edwin moaned, pleased Armand struck him again, he could feel a new rush fill his veins, something sinister and sweet.

Then he saw Edwin's face. The boy had rolled again, protecting his back, his face was flushed, lip bleeding. There was an edge of fear in his eyes, he realised now his mistake, but there was something else too. Armand took his measure and leaped on the boy, raining blows from the whip. Under the assault Edwin moaned. Not through such a simple emotion as pain though, but with a darker emotion, the lord was enjoying the beating. Armand felt himself respond to Edwin's passion, he allowed the rush of power to show on his face, to take hold of him. Armand delivered a dazing blow to the prone lad, and turned him on to his front

"enjoy" he whispered in Edwin's ear, before mercilessly penetrating the lord.

(date ref: may 5th vol 2)

ALEXANDRA

Alexandra ventured from her rooms, the Stronghold seemed deserted. Her feet led her unhurriedly to the Great Hall, she found the barbarians Ktarth and Aria, there. They informed her of the hunt, she took the news dimly, almost glad that the corridors were empty, allowing her to be alone with her thoughts in her home. Many found the Stronghold as a whole too large to consider all of its halls 'home' but to the queen, who had lived within it's embracing, and protecting stones for nearly her entire life each and every inch felt like home. Leaving the guards to their business, she wandered onward to the throne room. It seemed dead, the life and warmth that Louie's presence had breathed into that room had dissipated. The grand stone doors – intricately chiselled with a scene depicting the Carthian landscape – had yielded to a gentle p8ush, and opened with a noise resembling an exhaled breath. Inside all was still. The sun shone coldly in, cutting lacerations of light against the shaded stone. The hall seemed at once welcoming and empty. With a faintly happy sigh she went in. at once the hall was filled with life and laughter. The great ballads of her youth cavorted through the air. Faceless dancers appeared, whirling around, a cacophony of colour and movement. Louie was by her side, not the Louie that she had come to know, but the Louie of his youth, a young dashing boy. Smiling broadly, perfect white teeth shining, he silently led her to the centre of the hall.

They danced and danced, and danced. The music played on and on, a happiness that she had long forgotten swept over her. The other dancers faded, until it was just Louie and herself. He held her close, and whispered in her ear

"Go. Go quickly"

Alexandra backed away, suddenly scared, her hands shot to her face. Louie's image howled in anguish as blood erupted from his chest, he dropped to his knees, clutching his heart, the blood now a pool on the floor, it was staining the toes of her shoes. Paralysed by fear she looked on. Blood poured from his mouth as he opened it to speak, the horrifying spectre began to fade but she thought that she heard him say "he kissed me" but it could have just been an echo on the wind.

Suddenly, normality returned to the queen. She stood alone in the empty throne room. No trace of Louie remained, nor of the volumes of blood. With relief she fell unconscious to the floor.

(date ref: may 7th vol 2)

SIR ETHELRIDGE

The queen was not the only person to find themselves abandoned that day. sir Ethelridge had been inspecting the kings army, disciplining his men, performing the mundane duties of running the kingdom while the king indulged in frivolities. When the knight finally had time to leave the encampment and return to the inner keep, he found the place deserted. Even the war room, so recently a near constant hive of activity, was abandoned. The knight felt unsure weather to be annoyed at missing out or glad to get a little peace. Mechanically he began sifting through the military reports and training schedules, not really registering the words.

Since the Surrendians arrival Armand had been ... distracted ... by them. True it was fitting that Armand deal with them, after all they were no ordinary foreigners, Silk was the heir to the Surrendian throne. In doing so though Armand had been neglecting his other duties, duties that he had not yet begun to master. The daily court session had been abandoned outright, and no replacement system put in place. Things just were not getting done. He himself had done all that he could to keep the kingdom going, but lacked the authority to do much that needed doing – that was why they had a king in the first place. Here in the war room, things were in a mess. The generals, and other military figureheads still met here, following the routine laid down by Louie. More often than not though the sessions descended into wanton arguing. Here too, despite the regularity of the meetings little was being accomplished. Already, even in so shorter space of time, Armand's love of partying had begun to corrupt the younger members of the nobility, without Louie's firm hand to curtail the bingeing, they had run riot. If his laconious habits were not quickly checked, Carthia's backbone might well be broken – before a war had chance to begin.

Ethelridge looked round at the hall. The lack of activity in it left a noticeable vacuum. The stillness louder than any battlefield. He sighed wearily. Memories of the Great War flooding back to him. Must he go through all that, again, before he died? It would surely kill him this time. The daring battles that had earned the knight his honours and wealth were long past. He had been but a young man, full of vigour and daring, the intervening years had taken their toll. With a sigh he pushed away the papers – why should he bother when no one else did? He too would be dead and cremated soon, then Armand would have to cope on his own with his rowdy band of decadent nobles. Sadly he made one last circuit of the room then left for the Great Hall.

He found the hall to be virtually deserted to. A servant was casually working down one end, but she worked quietly, and made no noise, she was as unobtrusive as the furniture. The stillness here was baited and brooding. The very stone from which the Stronghold was fashioned seemed pensive and expectant. Feeling ill at ease with the Hall's atmosphere, he wandered to the throne room.

The doors were ajar, an oddity. Suddenly concerned, he ran forward. The knight caught sight of rich cloth crumpled on the floor, it took a second to register that it was Alexandra on the floor.

"My Queen" he gasped, dashing over. He knelt beside her, and gently tried to rouse the still form. There was a slight gash on her forehead, a little blood had run down to her cheek. Its redness contrasting vividly with the paleness of her face. The queen remained unresponsive, but she breathed gently. There was no one within earshot, and he was unwilling to leave her, so the knight gently lifted the queen and carried her to her rooms.

The castle doctor was quickly summoned. The physician was a small man, he had the habit of sidling rather than walking, and he squinted a lot. Ethelridge personally did not like the man and never consulted him when ill. An unconscious queen, however, was too much for him to handle alone. The man inspected her, and cleaned her wound. He produced a small phial from his clothes, uncorked it at arms length, and waved it under Alexandra's nose.

Almost right away she coughed and spluttered into awareness

"your highness – are you alright?" the knight asked, immediately at her side. She looked at him sadly, but smiled " I'm fine, thank you, perhaps the heat was too much for me. I am sorry to have inconvenienced you both"

"these past weeks have been more than difficult on us all, your majesty" the doctor said, continuing his examination " everything seems alright. I've bandaged your bump, it is best you stay in bed for the rest of the day, if you feel at all dizzy please call me"

"thank you doctor, Sir Ethelridge"

the two men bowed, the knight making sure his genuflection was humbler than the doctors. Their duty disposed, they left the queen to recover.

(date ref: may 16th vol 2)

SILK

The hunting party arrived back at the Inner Keep quite late in the day. They had drunkenly made their collective way home without hurrying. The only exceptions, obvious by their absence, had been Edwin and the king. Sometime between the pipings cessation and when Silk had been unable to resist the urge to look behind him, they had sneaked away. Silk had been unsure weather to be sad or pleased. In the end he had focused on Morgan, who currently seemed much more forth-coming.

The lady Morgan had endured the long journey home with remarkably little complaining. Her inescapable comments he bore with kindly tolerance. And in turn this had seemed to comfort her.

The young king found her difficult to talk to, she seemed to be some alien creature, deceptive and alluring – far to complicated. He had never really spent much time with girls or women, other than his sister and mother, and even they were difficult creatures. in the end she seemed content to travel in silence. The silence though was not a cold one, it was instead an informal one, that which could exist between two friends. He marvelled at her good looks, and her unusual petiteness – she was truly tiny. Fretfully he wondered how to bring up the tender issues of marriage, in the current political climate there was little time for a protracted courtship. His proposal would be sudden and unorthodox, but in this era of sudden changes, he could not afford to dally. Soon he must leave to reclaim his throne, it could not wait much longer. The senate would have to be faced, and Hannah's power wrested from her. He dearly wanted Morgan by his side when he left. There was a logic to this too, Hannah was adamant about staying single, she had always felt that marriage would only weaken her position. The Surrendians were used to a female ruler, with Morgan by his side he would stand a much better chance of undoing the damage she had done. No doubt she had been undermining him throughout his absence. Morgan's looks, and when it suited her, her winning personality he felt would prove crucial. The fact that she was a Carthian could work for or against him, but it was a chance he felt willing to take.

When finally they had entered the inner keep, Morgan had been spirited away by servants to have her leg attended to. The hunting party continued their festivities in the Great Hall, having nothing better to do Silk joined them. He resolved to forget his troubles for the evening and began getting copiously drunk – the Carthian nobles had accepted his presence among them with little reservation, he had always been well liked. Unlike Armand who flaunted his position, and looked down on people, Silk treated everyone the same, never pushed his position in their faces. The royal entertainers were called for, and eventually arrived. Several hours later the revelries showed no signs of abating.

It was some time later when Silk noticed Edwin arrive. His former friend was walking stiffly, he seemed to be favouring an assortment of pains. Edwin did not even glance around the room, did not look for Silk, he seemed almost unaware of the other people in the Great Hall. As he got closer, Silk could discern an assortment of rather painful looking discolourations on his face, and a split lip. Edwin must have been in a fight, he decided, but surely, not with Armand? perhaps they had run into bandits.The mystery only deepened when a little later Armand turned up.

The king's arrival went unnoticed by the room in general – an astounding feat in itself. Armand was purposefully the type of person who always captured everyone's attention – whether you loved or hated him. He did not go unnoticed by Edwin though, indeed it had been his sudden alertness that had drawn Silks attention to Armand in the first place. It was as if Edwin had come alive again in Armand's presence.

The Carthian was as faultless as ever. No sign of stiffness there – but then Silk had learned that with Armand nothing was not as it seemed. The king was even more affable than usual, while Edwin remained more subdued than Silk had ever known him to be before. What had transpired between the two, Silk could hardly guess, and he did not like where his few guesses were leading him. It was apparent to Silk that they had not fallen out with each other, for Edwin seemed acutely attune to the king – if they had argued Edwin would be pouting blatantly. Armand on the other hand was – albeit well concealed – taking great pleasure in ignoring the lad.

Happily for silk, as their arrival had put a cloud over his merry making, Armand and Edwin left after only an hour or two. The king had drunk obscene amounts of laudanum, and taken the next full bottle with him – obviously wanting to continue his partying somewhere more private. Edwin had stayed sat in the same spot all the time, his eyes never far from Armand. Superciliously Armand had given Edwin a barely visible gesture, and then left the hall. Like a dog Edwin instantly trotted after him.

(date ref: may 20th vol 2)

EDWIN

When Armand had finished with Edwin they had silently rode back to the keep. Edwin's horse was unrideable as he had earlier planned, and so he rode double with the king. He was sore. Already bruising had begun to discolour his skin, every step the horse took was agony. He sat close to the figure in front of him, needing to be close to his tormentor, drawing strength and reassurance from him. He lived each moment with clarity, the pain adding to his awareness of life. He had - and still was – experienced an emotion far deeper and addictive than any previously felt, and it was more profound than he had ever imagined, certainly nothing in his time with Silk had prepared him for this seductive creature called Armand.