The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (9 page)

gone.

“Very well. Tell my mother that I love her and that a burden that

weighed heavily upon me is lifted, now that I know she is safe and

well. Also, tell aunt Sobrathi that I love her dearly. I miss them both.

Tell mother that I remember her lessons vividly, especially the ones

about friendship and divided loyalties. Ask her to protect me from

the latter, for I value the former. Also ask her what the enemy could

do if he came from the back. The one who thinks his sword will

shatter mine, I do not fear. I dread the one who comes under cover of

the night, when it is dark and everything appears black. Shields nor

armor will protect me then, I fear. Finally, tell her, I long to hear from

her soon.”

Renda lay down her quill and stared at the notes she had made.

Every so often she closed her eyes and her lips moved soundlessly.

She repeated the process a few times.

“All done,” she announced after some time.

“You will deliver the message to the queen yourself?” Anaxantis

asked.

“Oh no, my lord. I deliver it to someone... eh... down the road. I

don’t even know if that person is the last one in the chain.”

“I see. All depends on the memory of an unknown number of

people.”

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“I can assure you that we are very good at what we do, my lord,”

Renda said with a peevish undertone in her voice. “We know that

our masters sometimes hide the most important bits in the most

innocent words. The message will reach the queen word for word.

Every last word.”

“Sorry, Renda, I meant no disrespect.”

“I know you didn’t, my dear... lord,” she said, smiling.

“Such a sweet boy,”
she mused. “
Or he would be if he hadn’t to

carry all that responsibility. He looks tired and a bit on edge. And

he has his older brother to take care of too. I understand he wants

to protect him. But from me? That was some good soup. Oh, if only I

were fifteen, twenty years younger. And a princess, or a countess at

least... Stop dreaming, you silly goose. I hope I’ll make it home before

the storm breaks loose. Ha, ha... that rhymed.”

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67

When the first flash of lightning lit up the room and moments

later a deafening thunderclap ripped through the silence, he bolted

awake. He lay upon the rug before the fire. Although still disoriented,

his first reflex was to check the water in the basin. It was cold. He

looked nervously around him, but his lord hadn’t come home yet.

He sighed with relief. The fire was still going, but in urgent need of a

few fresh logs. The water in the kettle would still be hot, or at least

warm, he hoped.

It was. While he poured some of the cold water carefully in the

kettle, he berated himself for being so careless as to fall asleep. Such a

simple, humble task and he had almost managed to botch it. His only

responsibility for the whole evening and he couldn’t even be trusted

to bring that to a good end. He ladled hot water in the basin until the

mixture had just the right temperature, placed it beside the big chair,

next to the towels, the sponge and soap, and sat down again on the

rug. He sighed contentedly. Everything was ready. Just as it should

be. He wiped the hair out of his eyes. It was becoming very long and

he would like a haircut, but he hadn’t said anything about it as yet.

Better wait until his lord did, and then just do as he was told. It made

for a simple life. No decisions to make. They were all made for him.

He just had to do his chores punctually and correctly. If he did, all

was well. If he didn’t, there were consequences.

Nothing violent as yet, although the possibility of that was

always there. Standing before him, eyes shamefully downcast and

being scolded for laziness and incompetence was hard enough. It

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made him painfully aware that he stood naked before his lord, who

could see everything there was to see of him, including his pathetic

failures. The times when his lord was angry were the ones he could

bear best. Hearing the disappointment in his voice was much harder.

Usually he was ordered to remain standing wherever he happened

to be at the moment and think about his shortcomings. Sometimes

an hour, sometimes longer. Until his lord looked up from his book or

the documents he was reading and gave him permission to come sit

beside the chair on a cushion on the floor. Often he then felt a hand

being laid on his head and usually it started playing casually with a

strand of his hair, while his lord continued his reading.

It was one of the most happy periods of the day. The intimacy of

the gesture calmed him down. The soft crackling sounds of the fire in

the hearth soothed him. Just being near him. Wasn’t that what he had

always wanted? Well, he had his wish, hadn’t he? He often leaned

against his lord’s outstretched legs, without inconveniencing him of

course, and his lord let him.

He awoke out of his reverie when he heard footsteps upon the

stairs. As fast as he could he got up and went to the door. He was just

in time.

“Are you still up?” his lord asked, surprised. “I would have thought

you would have gone to bed by now.”

“Don’t you want your foot bath, my lord?” he said, trying to hide

his disappointment.

“Ah... well... yes... since you have prepared everything, why not?”

In the nick of time he caught the mantle his lord, as usual, let

drop to the ground, and he managed to take the sword before it was

thrown upon the table. He quickly put everything away.

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While he was washing his feet he looked up diffidently. His lord

had closed his eyes. He looked very tired and tense. On his brow was

a deep furrow.

“Is he getting wrinkles already? He is seventeen. That is too young

to get wrinkles. The burden upon his shoulders is too great. It just isn’t

fair,”
he thought bitterly.

When he had finished and ranged everything in the bathroom he

hesitated. Should he just sit down next to the chair on the ground?

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” he asked softly instead.

His lord opened his eyes with some difficulty.

“I seem to be more tired than I thought,” he said. “Sorry, you were

saying?”

“I could give you a neck massage. Maybe it’ll help against the

tension,” he answered.

His lord looked strangely at him, with one of those searching

stares. Then he nodded and shifted his position, so that his shoulders

could be reached from the side of the chair. His hands were still warm

from the water and he started kneading the cramped muscles with

his long, strong fingers. His lord had closed his eyes again. He worked

his way slowly upwards until finally both his hands disappeared

under the long, blond hair.

“I can kill you now. There is nothing you can do. You’re too weak to

resist and, besides, I was always stronger than you, and I still am. I just

have to close my hands around your throat. I doubt if you will struggle

for long. Or I can make it quick and snap your neck in one quick

movement. I can see it clearly now. You’re not contented. Humiliating

me may excite you, but all the same you’re not happy. It’s what you

want, isn’t it? That’s why you gave me the dagger. That’s why you

let me keep it. You took everything from me. Everything I possessed

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you robbed me of. Then you took my name, then my dignity, my self

worth, and now I am nothing more than a naked beast that you love

having crawling in the dust before you. That you pet. That you call by

a demeaning name. None of it eased the pain. None of it brought you

lasting joy. The dagger you left me. Redina mo Sevrai. Medicine for the

heart. I can get it now. You won’t even realize what is happening... Isn’t

that what you really want? Or I can use my hands and keep the dagger

for myself. Shall I end the pain for you?”

It was nothing more than an exhausted boy that felt the strong

fingers tentatively closing around his neck. He slowly stretched

his neck, exposing it, and let it lean heavily in the hands that were

massaging it.

“Now? Are you going to do it now? You can close your fingers and

choke me or break my neck. Surely I have driven you far enough by

now. You are still in there. You must be, and now is your chance. I’m too

worn out to either resist or care. I want him, but I can’t live with you.

If you don’t take your chance or if he stops you, I will continue hunting

you down. Without mercy.”

He felt the powerful fingers close around his throat and press

upon his larynx and when he realized what was happening, he

suddenly felt the need to look what was about to come in the face.

Not out of fear, but out of curiosity. Would he recognize him when he

saw him? But while he started to open his eyes he felt the pressure

diminish, and the hands wandered back down to his shoulders.

When he saw the tears, he considerately closed his eyes again.

Hours seemed to pass and not a word was spoken. Outside the

storm raged on.

“Is that better, my lord?” he said, when he trusted himself again

to speak without a tremble in his voice.

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“Yes, I believe it really is,” the soft spoken answer came.

“So, no. Not tonight, anyway. I wonder what you are waiting for?

Very well, then it is I who will come after you with renewed vigor and

determination. Whatever it takes, I will confront you. I will look you in

the eyes. And when I see you, I will kill you. But not today...”

“Listen,” his lord said, “it can’t be very cozy in your room with

this storm going on. I am much too tired to make love, but you are

welcome to sleep in my bed with me tonight. Would you like that?”

“Very much so, my lord.”

“Need you ask? Need you still ask?”

When they lay in bed, he arranged the covers over his lord. He

felt him grope under the blankets for his arm and when he had found

it he turned away on his side, pulling it along and draping it around

him.

He wanted to kiss him goodnight, but wasn’t sure such intimacy

would be welcome. On an impulse he brushed his lips lightly against

a shoulder.

His lord was already fast asleep.

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Watered down wine, weak beer, or mead that was really honey

water. Those were the choices the pages had in the community

barrack the prince had been so kind as to provide them with. As

they were forbidden to visit taverns, and certainly those of ill repute

that had sprouted all around the camp, Anaxantis had decided that

they needed a place where they could meet and relax. He thought it

would be good for team spirit and group bonding. A kitchen help was

detached to serve as bartender. Besides drinks, the pages could enjoy