The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (39 page)

“You're not seriously suspecting him of anything, are you?” Hemarchidas asked dejectedly.

“No, no, that's the farthest thing from my mind,” Anaxantis replied earnestly. “But you must admit, it is a weakness when someone that close to me is vulnerable. No, what I was thinking is this. What if they try to get at me through him? It could have dire consequences not only for himself, but also for his family, who has absolutely nothing to do with all this.”

“I've never looked at it from that angle,”
he thought.
“What if that is not the only weak point? What if Bortram is not the only one with problems? Some of my other friends might have hidden vulnerabilities that could be exploited by father or whoever tried to poison me.”

They were slowly strolling through the forest. It had been raining, and even under the trees the ground was wet through and through, which made it impractical to sit down.

“Couldn't you ask Tomar to investigate this a bit more?” Hemarchidas asked after some thinking. “It seems right up his alley. Lending contracts and all that.”

“I've thought about that, but I think it would be better that someone went over and took care of it immediately. There is something fishy going on. The lands are as good as paid for, and suddenly there is more money to be paid? For the moment I can't spare Tomar here.”

He smiled at Hemarchidas.

“You want me to go and look into it?”

“Yes, and don't just look into it, but take care of it. Make it go away. But it needs to be done in such a manner that Bortram will never suspect that I'm behind it. I hate going behind his back, but it's that damn pride of his that is to blame for that. I offered to give him the money. Or lend it. He wouldn't hear of it.”

“I could leave tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Good. Take ten of the most dependable clansmen with you. First go to Ormidon. I'll give you a handwritten note for my personal notary. He'll assist you in all legal matters. I'll also give you a note for my bank, so you can draw whatever money is needed to solve this from my account. Bortram's village is about twenty miles to the north west of the capital.”

“What if it involves an important amount of money. Do you wish me to consult with you first?”

“No. Just pay what needs to be payed. I don't care. I want him to not have to worry any longer about his parents and brothers.”

“And he will never know what you did for him?”

Anaxantis shrugged.

“That's not important.”

“These are tiring days,” Anaxantis said after they had eaten, “and not only that, I will need my evenings to look up stuff and work on some things I didn't have a chance to finish during the day.”

“Say, no more,” Ehandar said softly, “I know you've got tremendous responsibilities. I'll be as quiet as a mouse.”

“I am afraid that won't be enough. Merely having you around is too distracting.”

A cold and naked fear came over Ehandar.

“He's going to send me away after all. He's going to use this to ship me off to the Farms.”

It was an automatic reflex. He began pleading.

“You don't have to do this. I won't make a sound, I promise. If you want I could go in the little room.”

He winced.

“The little room I sent you to. The little room where I chained you to your bed. The little room where...”

“I'll go there now if you want,” he continued. “I'll be so quiet, you won't even know I'm here.”

“No, I won't, because you will indeed not be here.”

Ehandar looked at him with desperation, frantically searching for words that could mollify his little brother. Anaxantis saw his paralyzing fright.

“Oh, relax,” he said, “I meant, here, in this room. Like I said, these are fatiguing days for me. I want to sleep on my own for a while and be able to work without distractions in the evenings.”

Ehandar felt the panic ebbing away, but still dreaded what was coming.

“I've had a room prepared for you to sleep in. Come, I'll show you.”

He exited the room and went downstairs, followed by Ehandar. Where the stairs made a turn there was a small landing. Anaxantis opened a little door and gestured Ehandar to enter.

“This is not a room,”
he thought after one look,
“this is a broom closet.”

“I know it is not much,” Anaxantis said evenly, “but it was the best I could do at such short notice. It is too small for a bed, so I had the servants provide you with a straw sack. There are some pegs to put your clothes on.”

Ehandar looked around. What Anaxantis had called pegs turned out to be three rusty nails in the wall. The straw bag occupied most of the floor of the minuscule closet. He looked up. There were no windows, but high up in the wall there appeared to be some slits that let in fresh air.

“Well, that's it,” Anaxantis said, turning around and going back upstairs.

A stunned Ehandar looked unbelievingly around.

“Does he really expect me to sleep here?”

Then it struck him. He would be sleeping here alone. He hadn't slept by himself for months. He wouldn't hear the soft breathing of Anaxantis beside him, nor feel his body warmth anymore. It would be lonely, cold.

When he entered the room, Anaxantis was already seated again at the table, reading.

“It's awfully small,” he ventured.

“It's only temporary. Besides, when time permits, and if I am not too tired, I will invite you into my bed, once in a while.”

The matter-of-factly spoken words stung, deep, deep in Ehandar's heart.

“This is not temporary, this is how it's going to be from now on and I should be grateful that he hasn't sent me away further still,” he thought bitterly. “It is not even our bed anymore, it is his bed and he will invite me into it when it pleases him. When he wants me to... to have sex with him... when he wants me to service him.”

It didn't matter. The moment Anaxantis called him, made the slightest gesture, the merest indication with his eyes, he knew he would respond. Willingly. Salvaging whatever he could. Doing whatever needed to be done to feel his flesh against his own. To feel those hands on his skin again. To see the rapture in those eyes again.

And to vainly try repaying an infinitesimal part of his debt. Of his enormous, prodigious debt.

He dropped his shoulders and looked at his brother, his lover, his beautiful tormentor.

As if Anaxantis had felt his eyes resting on him, he looked up.

“Go to sleep, Ehandar,” he said with a thin smile. “Don't forget to take sheets and a blanket. The nights are cold. I will come and get you in the morning. Stay there until I do.”

“But it's still early,” Ehandar said before he could stop himself.

“I know. Do as I say.”

Lying in his little cell like room, on the straw sack on the floor, feeling lonely and forlorn, Ehandar cried himself to sleep. It might have been of some comfort to him, had he known that a few hours later someone else was crying himself to sleep as well, in the big bed upstairs.

It was New Year's eve. Anaxantis had ordered the kitchen to prepare a festive meal for the by now eighty or so members of the clan and to provide ample wine. There was also ale and mead for those who preferred it. The kitchen had done an excellent job. There were broiled, roasted, grilled, baked, fried and poached meats. There were four different kinds of pot pies filled with mixtures of meats, poultry or fish and vegetables, herbs and cheese. There were also six different kinds of bread and three soups.

Early in the evening Anaxantis went to the barracks where the men were having their feast and mingled among them. Later, he and Bortram went back to the castle, where a room in one of the guest houses was prepared for the festivities of the lord governor and his friends. Marak and Tomar were already there when they arrived, and soon after Iftang and Lethoras, who had come back from Landemere for the occasion, joined them. Hemarchidas was away on personal business for Anaxantis. Arranulf and Obyann served the food and drinks. Anaxantis had made sure that there was a table prepared for them in the kitchen, so they could eat from all the dishes they served. Since he had specified nothing about the drinks, Renda let them have wine, though she took care to water it so much down as to become almost tasteless for anybody but the boys.

After the meal, encouraged by wine that was not watered down at all, the friends in turn told tall stories, except Anaxantis who listened smilingly to the others. Rather late in the evening Renda appeared in the door opening and gestured that she wanted to speak to him. He obliged and went over to her.

“I was wondering, my lord, whether I could bring a little something upstairs, him being all alone and all. It doesn't seem right when everybody is having a good time. With your pardon, my lord, I don't want to overstep myself, but what can it hurt after all?”

Anaxantis thought for a while. His first inclination was to flatly refuse her, but after some consideration he relented.

“Very well. Prepare something and I will come fetch you in fifteen minutes. I'll bring you to the tower myself. The door to my apartments is locked and only I have the key.”

“I'll be right back, My Lord,” Renda said when they entered the hallway.

Anaxantis didn't answer immediately as he thought he heard a noise. He shook his head and dismissed a vague feeling of unease.

“Do you want to stay a while with him?” he asked.

“Oh, if it wouldn't be too inconvenient I'd gladly—”

“You have an hour,” he interrupted her curtly, while mounting the stairs to the second floor. “Be here waiting for me when I come back to fetch you.”

He unlocked the door, let Renda through and locked it again behind her. He turned to descend the stairs, but kept standing before the door for a while. Nothing moved and he could hear no sound. After a short while he left.

“That was a close call,”
Gorth, who had hidden in one of the niches with a door as soon as he heard the noise downstairs, thought.
“The little butcher himself, and that pudgy lady must be that cook's help Ehandar has befriended.”

Suddenly he got a wild, outrageous idea. When the little tyrant came back to open the door for the woman, he could jump him from behind and kill him. His blood raced through his veins. Why not? It was New Year's eve and nobody expected trouble of any kind. They could reach the stables of the cavalry unseen in the dark, steal a couple of horses and be far away before anybody missed the little creep.

Then he thought it over. Would Ehandar thank him for murdering the love of his life? Not very likely. It would be in his best interest of course, but the immediate effect would be most probably a hysterical Ehandar. What about the kitchen help? Surely the little beast would tell his companions that he would be back in a few minutes, and then when he failed to do so his friends would come investigating. All the while he would, in all likelihood, still be trying to convince a mourning Ehandar to let go of the body and come along. No, golden as the opportunity was, unique even, the risks were too great. It was ironic, but it seemed the little monster was protected by friendship and love.

About an hour later, after he had returned from getting Renda back from the tower, Anaxantis had trouble concentrating on his surroundings. The little group became more ribald and boisterous with every cup of wine they drank. They had started to teach each other dirty songs from their homelands.

Lethoras had a fine singing voice, he noticed randomly, but the same could not be said of the others. Nevertheless he kept smiling until his face muscles began to hurt. He stood up and walked to the windows. From the room on the second floor he had a perfect view of the inner court yard and the tower on the other side. There was a light still burning on the top floor.

He excused himself, saying he was tired, and wished them all the best for the new year. They made the obligatory noises to make him stay, but didn't insist long. He grabbed a wine flask, and left, followed by the lusty sounds of a song about some girl called Rose, you know, she was one of those, whose legs would never close, and for who no man was too old or too gross.