The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (5 page)

will be there as well, of course. Let’s hope your plan works. It is a big

meadow,” Marak said. “Oh yes, I’ll bring the capsule as soon as I’ve

retrieved it to you. Unopened of course.”

“Thank you. I hate it with a passion, to go behind their backs

like that, but once doubt starts to creep in, it spreads like a cancer,

infecting all and everything in its path. I can’t be careless in this.”

“No, you can’t. Who knows, maybe tomorrow you can exclude

them both. Let’s think positive.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Let’s hope I can exclude all three of you, Marak. I hope so. I so do

hope so.”

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Andrew Ashling

With a large ladle, Ehandar scooped some tepid water out of the

basin and emptied it in the kettle that hung on an arm that pivoted

above the fire in the hearth. Then he took an equal amount of hot

water out of the kettle and transferred it carefully to the basin. He

tested the water. It was exactly the temperature his lord liked. He

had been doing this for the last two hours. Anaxantis never told him

when he would be back, yet he expected his foot bath to be ready

when he did.

This day being his birthday, his lord could stay away for a long

time still. His friends had probably thrown him a party, so he was

prepared for a long wait. It was not as if he had anything else to do.

He sat down on the rug before the fire and put his silver flute to his

lips. After having played a few traditional ballads, he decided to work

some more on a little tune he had made himself.

Now and then he stopped to check if the water was still warm

enough. His thoughts wandered. His lord had many and grave

responsibilities. Was it only a few months ago that those duties had

also been his? It seemed ages ago. He recalled that he hadn’t been

good at it. He never could decide what to do, and whenever he did

make a decision it was usually the wrong one. With his renunciation,

these responsibilities had ceased and so had the panic attacks. His

lord was far better at it than he had ever been. Not that Anaxantis

told him anything, but Gorth kept him informed. He still marveled

how some ten days ago his lord had humbled the whole Amirathan

nobility into submission. He had done it to keep everybody safe.

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37

“He also did it to keep me safe. He keeps me safe, not only from the

barbarians, but also from the king and the princes. From the officers

and all the others who hate me. And what does he want in return? Not

much. Just some trifling services, some futile comforts. He can be blunt

and he sometimes snaps at me, but that’s only to be expected after an

enervating day, during which he has to tend to weighty matters and

all kinds of people vie for his attention. It’s not surprising that he just

wants some peace and quiet when he is here, and who could blame

him?

“He only wants to relax after an exhausting day, and how do I

thank him for all his toils? I aggravate him by not performing my tasks

well enough. They’re not very demanding, they’re not complicated and

I have all the time in the world. Yet, often he finds me at fault or catches

me not having done my chores to expectation. Of course he gets angry

then, rightly so. I’ll just have to do better. It’s not as if he is unjust.

Whenever I do something right he is happy, also happy for me, and he

praises me, undeservedly, because it is only my duty.

“He has taken my clothes away. He says it is a constant reminder of

what I really am. Maybe he is right. He usually is. Maybe it is only my

pride, my undue, stupid pride that made me want to resist. And maybe

that resistance itself is proof that he is right.

“He likes to watch me and it gives him obvious pleasure. So what?

He touches me wherever and whenever his fancy takes him. It is little

enough to give him in return for his protection and the care he takes of

me. If I can in any way make his life more agreeable, I should be glad

for the opportunity to do so. I should be grateful that he still wants

to look at me, that he hasn’t grown tired of me. He must have more

opportunities than I can imagine. I should thank the Gods that he

hasn’t sent me to the Royal Farms...

“He gave me this demeaning name and he slaps my ass, sometimes

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Andrew Ashling

just as a kind of greeting, sometimes as an encouragement. One time

he dragged me through the room by my ear to the bathroom and

made me clean it again, on my hands and knees, while he stood there

watching all the time. Well, that was my own fault, wasn’t it? I should

have done it right to begin with. It is nothing compared with what he

could do. No, really, I have so much to be grateful for...”

Silently tears rolled over his cheeks. He wiped them away,

annoyed with himself.

“Ridiculous. He loves me. I know he does. Once in a while he invites

me into his bed and we make love. I can feel that he cherishes me. He

is so tender then, so affectionate. You can’t fake that. He needs me. And

when all is said and done he is my love, my lord.”

The door opened and Anaxantis came in, deep in thought. He

unclasped his mantle and let it drop to ground. Then he unbuckled

his sword belt and threw it, weapon and all, onto the table. Ehandar

scurried to retrieve the mantle and the sword and put them away.

“Your foot bath is ready, my lord,” he said softly. “The water is just

as you like it.”

“Thank you, Tarno,” Anaxantis sighed.

He sat down in the chair and began unlacing his boots. Ehandar

crouched down beside his feet.

“Let me do it, my lord,” he said.

Anaxantis let himself sink back in the chair and let his brother

guide his feet into the warm water. After Ehandar had washed and

dried them, he looked up at him.

“Happy birthday, my lord,” he whispered.

“Why, thank you, Tarno. It’s nice of you to remember.”

“I would never forget your birthday, my lord. It’s just... it’s just

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39

that I have nothing to give you.”

Anaxantis looked down on him and smiled genially. He lay his

hand upon Ehandar’s head and with a caressing gesture his fingers

wandered down and scratched him lightly behind one ear.

“Of course you have something, Tarno,” he said softly. “There is

so much you can give me. Your devotion. Your careful and prompt

execution of my wishes. Your willingness to learn from your silly

mistakes. Your reverence. Your obedience. There is so much...”

Ehandar bowed his head.

“Yes, my lord.”

“What was that tune I heard you play on the flute, the other day?

I didn’t recognize it.”

Ehandar looked up.

“Oh, that’s nothing. Just something I made up. Really, it is—”

“I think it’s beautiful. Won’t you play it for me?”

“Certainly, my lord,” Ehandar said, and he stood up to get his little

instrument.

When he returned, Anaxantis patted his thigh.

“Come, sit down.”

“My lord?”

“Sit down. Sit down, here, on my lap.”

For the merest fraction of a second a furious thought raged

through his head.
“I am your brother, not your little child, damn it.

Your older brother. Your taller, bigger, older brother.”
But it was gone

as fast as it came up.

“Yes, my lord,” he said, and he sat down gingerly in his little

brother’s lap, facing the fire.

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Andrew Ashling

Anaxantis curved his arm around his brother’s hips and let his

hand rest against his belly.

“Play,” he softly urged him on.

Ehandar played his melody, and wistful sounds full of melancholy

and longing filled the room.

“That is all I’ve got so far,” he said when he had finished.

“Thank you. It was very beautiful.”

Anaxantis didn’t remove his hand from his belly, and lay his

other hand on his knees, so he couldn’t stand up. His lord seemed

to sink away in thought, staring in the flames. He kept as silent

and still as he could. Having nothing to do but sit, he became very

aware of both hands on his body. The way Anaxantis held him was

not particularly erotic, it was just how you held someone who sat on

your lap, but it made him aware of his nakedness, and he found the

warm hands on his bare skin very pleasing. He began to think how

it had been a while since his lord had invited him into his bed, and

through the combination of feelings, thoughts and bodily sensations

the inevitable happened. He became aroused. He tried to think of

something trivial to distract his mind, but it didn’t work.

Anaxantis didn’t give any sign he had noticed his brother’s

growing erection, although it was impossible he hadn’t. Ehandar

by now was deep red in the face, ashamed and humiliated, sitting

there naked in the lap of his fully clothed younger brother, held by

him as a young child. A young child with a raging erection. There

was nothing he could do to hide the all too blatant outward sign of

his excitation. He had no choice but to let his arousal show, literally

inches away from his younger brother’s eyes. He knew he had lost

all control over his most intimate functions, as he was sitting there,

his throbbing member in full view for his younger sibling to stare

at. Try as he might, he couldn’t hold back his tears of frustration

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41

and embarrassment. That seemed to draw Anaxantis’s attention. He

drew his brother closer and pressed his head to his chest. Ehandar

threw his arms around him and held on to him as if he never would

let go anymore, with heaving shoulders and sobbing his heart out.

Anaxantis caressed his hair and the soothing movements calmed

him down somewhat, and after a while his misery slowly began

ebbing away.

It was only then that he saw that his brother was also aroused.

“There is so much you can give me,” Anaxantis whispered.

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Andrew Ashling

It was the strangest thing. He and another page had night duty

that week. The prince needed to be guarded at all hours after all, and

you could never tell when he might need something. Not that he ever

did. In fact, they had never even seen him after he mounted the stairs

to his private apartments.

That is, until tonight. Late in the afternoon he had asked them to

lead Myrmos, his new horse, to a meadow outside the encampment.

He would come late in the evening to fetch him, he had said. And so

he had. The nights were cold and despite their winter clothing they

had been shivering.

The prince had come about an hour or two before midnight,

wearing a drab dark brown mantle with a hood that covered his

golden hair, instead of one of his more brightly colored ones. It was

annoying to admit, but although his highness had been civil enough,