Tutor and Brother

9. A Reading Night
David sat propped on his pillows, his chest heaving with arousal and enchantment. Bodwin’s diary was more a simple recounting of how they’d come to be so much for each other. But Robert’s diary…was another thing entirely. He could see before his eyes the secret charms and secrets of the Orient. He actually was there. Felt the smell of the jasmines’ and roses’ bushes, the perfume of the cooling sand in the moonlight, heard the cries from the minarets marking the hour. Heard the sweet and lushly flowing music from behind curtains…and yet, his eyes were burning. His ears were straining to catch even the merest sound, his senses tensed to feel his brother. Cedric…All the times his thoughts while reading the recount shifted back to the here and now. Something he was not inclined to allow himself because Robert’s story was endearing and harsh at the same time. The story of a young man who’d got lost in the vast space of the Orient. Who’d faced first a nightmare and then a dream, both given and gifted to him by a surprisingly cruel, yet charmed lover. It was the story of a young boy who’d learned to be all the more man, just as he’d lost all dreams about ever holding a woman in his arms. It told the story of love, and lust, and…even witchcraft that stretched over ages. The witchcraft that gave power to find oneself living several lives just to be again and again with his perfect mate…
He ceased own reflections and turned to reading further. In the recesses of his mind he continued to feel, to listen, to sense every sign that could have, might have been sent his way from the chambers in which Ced was secluded with their tutor and tormentor. It made him feel frustrated and yet unwilling to close the diary. He couldn’t really fall completely prey to the lure of the diary. No…not without knowing how Ced was faring while he had these moments of mesmerising respite.

“No one could ever imagine my shame and fear on being brought to the men’s harem chambers of the Emir. Wild rumours had accompanied our hard way to his castle. Tales of young beautiful men who lived secluded, just to serve the pleasures of their powerful lord. Yet, I had refused all the way to believe such vile rumours. Men used instead of women. I dismissed the very idea. Still, had I been a little older, then perhaps I wouldn’t have dismissed them as so unthinkable. If merely because the truth of it was that older knights of more then two scores and five have been put to sword. It had been then a bloodbath just before my eyes that had left me with glazed eyes and numb mind. As then our chains were tied to the ones of the knights standing next, in front and behind and then our small column began to move, I couldn’t even feel my legs. I never even realized that we were in motion for many hours. In the long days and nights of our walk to the castle first there had been rumours. Then tales…and even some that had impaled themselves just because they’d listened to the sorry tales imparted by the servants of the Infidel knights. I was still too shaken by the sight of the rolling heads not to dismiss them just as rumours. I should have known better. I didn’t. I never realized then that some of those servants had been former knights from our very own realm and from other kingdoms who’d been caught just like us, and made to submit in time. I never realized that the heavy and faulty way they spoke Norman or other tongues was because of long disuse. I never realized that some told us the truth to mock and frighten and jeer at us. Or that some others meant it just as warning to allow us to make our choice before we arrived at the Emir’s castle.
And finally, when we’d entered the gates, I could but look amazed around me…All the Emir’s knights were dressed in black and gold, the Emir himself wearing as single distinguishing sign a huge emerald on his turban. Women, men, soldiers, merchants, courtiers, were hurrying from all parts to receive us and gape at our silent procession, while we were dragging our used boots in the hot sand, having before our eyes the merciless battle and execution of our brothers in arms…and the uncertain future that rumours and tales threatened to be even more horrid than death. Suddenly our pitiful column stopped and soldiers with swords motioned us to kneel. We fell as one, exhausted, knowing that we had arrived at the end of our road. Many of us let their heads touch the sand, feeling it clinging to the dried lips, to our muddied faces longing to be allowed to remain just like this and to feel a merciful sword finally beheading us. We had already lost all hope of life or escape and looked onto death like to a fair maid. Like the others, I kept my head pressed into sand, eyes closed, trying uselessly to pray, not knowing for what I would rather. Something pushed on my shoulder and barely raising my head I saw a pair of black shiny boots just in front of my eyes. A voice ordered me in hesitant Norman French to stand up, as a soldier pushed on my chains, making me attend the order even if I would have been disinclined to do so. I stood, and my eyes rested on the most impressive man. He was huge. He had broad, very broad shoulders and I thought that none of the knights I had ever shared pallet and drinks with could match him in height. I studied him, defiantly, while he was doing just the same but all the time wearing a thinly veiled smile in eyes the colour of emeralds. His broad shoulders and chest gave way to narrow hips and beautifully shaped legs. This is all I could see of him. Those two hot burning emeralds buried under long dark lashes and arched imperious brows. The rest of his face was hidden under black covers, and the turban with the emerald in its centre. He put two fingers under my chin and murmured something very softly under his breath. I couldn’t understand what he’d said, but the bawdy grins and wicked laughter of the soldiers as they watched the scene made me more apprehensive by the second. Could it be true, what rumours had whispered on our full of hardships way here? He than made a motion with his hand, and my chain was undone from the one of the man next to me. It was only a brief relief, as I was immediately tied to other two unlucky souls on the right of the Emir. He continued perusing our bedraggled ranks and other four of us were selected. Then we were herded inside the castle without knowing what fate expected the others. For ours we feared and Roderick was muttering that if the tales and rumours were true, he’d rather impale himself on the first sword in sight than allow being shamed at the hands of another male. Yet we made a step and then another into the castle, and even though candles were delivering a soft soothing light, leaving nothing hidden to the eye, I felt that my descend into darkness had arrived. How wrong I was! I didn’t know it then, but those very steps were taking me also into the light and leading me on the road on which I was to find my one and true love, if discounting my own sweet brother. Even now, at the time when I am writing these lines, I know not whom I loved best. The man who with a single motion of his hand had made me into his slave and lover, or the one who had healed my soul and gifted me with the love I needed when my love had vanished behind the curtain of nothingness and shadow. But enough of this…It still makes me sore to think on those times, and yet, how I wish I could relieve them. Even the fear, the defiance, the struggle, just to find me again in those enchanted rooms…
The rooms we were led to could be compared to nothing I had ever seen in my few years of life. Intricate ornaments decorated arched, white pillars that gave room to wide open and light spaces, to narrow again in arched bows of doors leading to as many rooms. Gold, silver on the walls in marvellous designs, velvet and silks of all kind clothing stools, recliners, and ottomans. Servants dressed in the colours of their master – black and green – hurrying to do whatever bidding they had to fulfil, their footsteps falling silently on…I had no name then for what covered the floor…carpets. I hadn’t known such existed and for a brief moment my mind wandered and thought what a vast improvement they were against our own smelly rushes from our demesnes…home. Home. A knife stabbed my heart. I was sure I would never again see the stern and wild beauty of my beloved Cornwall.
Further and further, deeper and deeper we were pushed by our guardians until we arrived in a room that made me suck in my breath. It was all in blues, blacks and whites, a large pool filled with water in its middle. There we were ordered to disrobe and enter into the pool. Reluctantly, and accompanied by the sound of menacing whips flying above our heads we obeyed. We were bathed, cleaned and oiled. While lying on a table, where skilled woman’s hands were kneading my body, I looked brooding yet strangely relaxed at the beautifully carved wooden panel that separated the room along an entire wall. I didn’t know it then, but hungry eyes watched each of us from behind it. The Emir. He watched, and as I later learned, decided in which order to take us. We were than fed and while eating listened carefully and with feelings of foreboding growing ever hotter in our souls to what was said to us by a terribly menacing looking man. He was responsible with us. We all were in his charge. Disobedience to be hard punished. Obedience rewarded. We were never to leave these rooms, and our own rooms that we would receive after finishing our meal. We were to be bathed daily several times and ready at each hour to do the bidding of the Emir. We were not allowed to speak among us or to the older inhabitants of this part of the castle for that matter. Failure to obey was punished first with whipping, and persistence in said failure with castration. We could no longer swallow what lay for us on the table. We listened with held breath and frozen hearts, minds and bodies. If we had any complaints, desires or specific requests before or after servicing the Emir we were to address him, our caretaker and none other. Then we were taken each to his room. We all went meekly, all fight drained from us. Shoved inside my chamber, I gulped astonished. It was a golden prison. Each luxury that I never even had dreamed of was there. From the wide and comfortable bed, to the ottoman, and the recliner to the silver and golden plates filled with fruits and sweetmeats. A water carafe and a smaller pot with a wonderful smelling brew…that I learned was coffee and even wine, although a very small amount of it. I felt suddenly sorry for myself, as my only thought was to drink myself into oblivion. Beautiful manuscripts in Latin and Greek were at the ready for my reading pleasure. A drawer inside the wall with golden handles caught my eyes. I opened it and let my fingers glide over the soft garbs. I took one out. It was long, of dark blue silk, and flowed down to my ankles. I put my arms in the long sleeves and knotted it. Was I supposed to wear it? I pulled out the other garbs that to my disappointment were just as the dark blue one save the colour. Nevertheless it appeased somewhat my modesty that had been very tried since taking the bath. I felt still naked, yet this garb gave me a sense of being still the master of my body. How wrong I was! I turned and looked in the huge silver plate that mirrored my image back. I made a step as to avoid the stranger looking from the silver plate at me. My hair had grown well past my shoulders falling in waves on my back. Huge, wild and scared eyes watched me from the mirror and their azure blue was darkened by questions and apprehension. I wanted to destroy the image of the man who seemed to resemble more a houri than a warrior. I started screaming wildly, kicking uselessly with my bare feet the floor, the pillows, everything in my way. My throat grew sore from so much screaming, and I let myself fall exhausted on the carpets. It was of no use whatsoever. I was caught in a golden trap, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight it. And for sure find my death. It was comforting and a kinder thought than the one of submitting…if rumours were true. I would struggle. I would make them believe me so impossible to tame, that castration simply would not mean for them with me the end of the troubles. I would fight them and most of all him all the way. I let myself fall right where I was, next to the soft bed and stood suddenly silent, unable to give a single sound from my lips as my eyes gazed sightlessly into nothingness. I don’t know how but I fell asleep. I awoke with a start…from somewhere sounds where to be heard. I felt my hair rising at my nape, and I put my arms around my body as if to protect it. The sounds were most unsettling…Not scary. Just unsettling.
In the morning four servants entered my room. I was motioned to stand up and follow them into an adjoining room. It was my own private bathing room. I looked scowling at the small pool. Well, everybody knew too much bath could mean catching one’s death. Yet it seemed they used to do it here every day at various hours. I was pushed in the pool, my arms flailing helplessly in the silken robe that went with me. One other servant followed me in the bath and soaped and washed me as if I were a helpless child. I started struggling just to find myself chained to the wall of the pool and them continuing to wash me. I was then massaged, and oiled. In my chamber breakfast awaited me. I refused it. I was bent on my way. I was decided to die and one way or the other I would succeed. They stood there, for a time, arms crossed at their chests watching in silence. As it became clear to them they I would not eat, one of them collected the plates and all retreated bowing politely.
Time seemed to drag endlessly. I had no desire to make myself more accustomed with my surroundings. Yet, I was young. And youth has restlessness. So I started first playing with the beautiful Latin and Greek manuscripts. My sire at home never cared much for me and Bodwin to learn writing and reading. But we had the good and wise old priest of our holding who had done it insisting gently that if we were to rule justly and with might over our villains and keeps we needed to be best prepared. I never cared much, yet I had learned the skill and even better than my brother. So, in order to dismiss my hungry belly I started reading. It was a way of not thinking at all while waiting for death, wasn’t it? The manuscript contained a beautiful story of courage and loyalty, of fights and betrayals about a man called Caesar and who’d won also the heart of an Egyptian queen.
Yet the hours continued to go one after the other with heavy paces of lead. As the hours trickled down I grew more and more restless. Death or escape, these were nagging permanently in my mind. Still, I was proud of myself. I had dismissed all meals brought to me during the day dignified and hoping I had not looked too longingly after the plates and trays being carried out of my room. In the evening, on the last return of the servants I was again bid go and wash. They had to carry me forcibly, kicking and screaming. Again I was tied, again bathed and massaged and oiled against my will. When brought again in my chamber I was pushed to my knees and signalled to pray as the cries of the muezzins called the hour. I just stood there on my knees, face pressed to the carpet and prayed to my own God. That He who knows all release me of my misery.
Day two started with me being again bathed. I was amazed that I had given up the fight on that so easily. Yet, I knew that no matter how much I tried to oppose or fought bathed I would be. So I let them do it, and the same game of waiting with plates, trays and glasses in front of me started anew. I could say, that the second day had very much resembled the first one.
On the third day, hungry and angry about my fight I decided that simply lingering wouldn’t aid my cause of escaping…Next, I finally started to examine more closely my rooms, in search of something that could aid me, either escaping or putting an end to my miserable life in the golden cage. I started looking more closely at the bed I hadn’t yet used. It was round, soft, white sheets and looked inviting. It had a huge headboard that was deeply built in the wall of the chamber, and upholstered on the outer side with a mixture of soft padded tapestry in which were interspersed at different distances handcrafted carvings and beautiful drawers all within hand’s reach if one was resting on the bed. I climbed on the bed and started examining the carvings and the drawers. I touched one of them, and it opened silently. Its inside was padded with velvet and on small pillow rested a thick golden ring with a strange clasp on which a small likewise golden chain was hanging. I took it out and looked closely at it trying to guess what it really was. I had no idea. Anyway, it was too large for any of my fingers, so I dismissed it and pushed the small drawer closed. I opened the next drawer and gasped. It opened much more than the first, it was longer and wider. Within its also padded insides rested a whip. I closed it without even taking a closer look at the whip. Then I continued looking at another drawer, and another. All had in them strange items and devices, save for two or more of them who contained shackles and cuffs and chains in different lengths. However nothing that I could take and use to finish my pitiful life, as now, I finally came to understand that perhaps I expected a very cruel and shameful fate. I again let myself fall next to this shameful bed, in which I hadn’t yet slept and continued my brooding, trying to understand what I saw in the drawers.
The evening brought a surprise with it. The servants entered carrying the plates and trays, and I looked amazed at how many they were. When they’d finished setting the table I had my answer. An imposing man had entered without me hearing his soft steps on the carpeted floors and, as I turned from my place at the window looking upon a lushly scented garden to which I used to look on just to avoid the silent enticement before my eyes created by the food I faced a man whose beauty made me gasp surprised. I knew that I and my brother were quite presentable, well grown and handsome, if the wenches with whom we’d fooled around at home were to be credited. My eyes rested on his face and I lost my breath recognizing those two deep green eyes so much like hills in the midst of a burning summer. But now I could also take in his face, with the determined chin, the sensual lips, the high cheeks speaking of nobility. All I could think about was how this Infidel Emir had come to those mesmerising eyes that stared at me unsmiling, indifferent, sending cold shivers running down my spine. The servants were now aligned somewhere behind him close to the doors, as he had motioned them to, while we stood facing each other, taking each others measures. Then he motioned me and bid me to sit. I considered defiance. The memory of the whip close by made me reconsider, so I let myself fall on the pillow next to the round table now covered with trays and plates and continued gazing openly at him as he sat as well, crossing his legs. We stood there in silence, till he broke it and ordered in a harsh yet hesitant voice in Norman: “Eat.”
I didn’t answer, just crossed my arms at my chest in refusal. His lips went into a brief grimace of displeasure. “Eat. Or whipping and forced feed. You choose.” Two of the servants made a step forward, and waited for his half raised arm to do its final bidding motion. I stretched my hand and took some fish from a plate and started stuffing it into my mouth. Then another one, and then from the other meet dishes, and soon I couldn’t stop myself…Just to have him motion for the plates to be taken away. The hunger denied till than howled in my body and I wanted to continue satisfying it, and was refused after being threatened into eating. “You get sick. From now eat. Or whipping. Choose. Now we talk. Tell who you are and where you come from.”

David felt sleep engulfing him. With a last effort he closed the diary and hid it, before collapsing on his bed, sleeping void of all thinking. Yet his last thought was Cedric and how long this night seemed to be, even if he had managed to shorten it and refuse grim thoughts about the goings on in the other chambers by reading and skimming through the diary of Robert. It was still a bit left till morning. And morning meant seeing Cedric again. And William…he finally slept with a frown edged on his face.