Another Piece of America

“But I’m leaving the gayborhood,” Musclecakes bemoaned across the miles the night before the movers came. I understood his pain. While it’s the right thing for him at this time, it’s also sad because in cities across America, the gay ghettos are shrinking, vanishing, or being infiltrated by non-gays. Gentrification is taking over. It’s a sign that homosexuals no longer need to stick together in a cluster for safety as people become, at the least, tolerant of having a fag next door. It’s a good thing. But it is also a loss.

When I moved inside the beltway some twenty years ago, Old Louisville was a bastion of gaydom. The local eatery was the Steak and Fag. The bull dyke bought her Camels from the drag queen at the drug store. Was that a blues fest or an unofficial gay pride event? It was both actually.

While Pride will still pull the baton twirling faery to the streets, the other 364 days of the year she’s butched up and working in a bank. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a guy in true fish (off stage anyway) in ages. The term is even stilted and arcane. And while it might be okay if the guys in the house across the street are obviously sharing the same bed, is it okay if they kiss in the driveway? Probably not. A gay establishment or my church are the only public places I’ll hold my boyfriend’s hand.

To be fair, I’ve been on obvious dates at non-gay establishments without incident. That’s wonderful. But what if I reach over to play with the guy’s hair? I certainly wouldn’t be comfortable putting my hand on his thigh at the Hitchcock Festival at the Palace. But in the gayborhood it would be different. I could kiss him without incident — or even notice.

Dont’ get me wrong. I’m thrilled that we’re making progress. I’m glad we can feel safe outside Old Louisville, the Castro, Boystown, Oak Lawn, and WeHo, but I’m also longing for a place where every day is Gay Pride Day, the guy in a skirt at the deli counter is not cause for notice or the two chick walking arm and arm down the sidewalk don’t have to fear a rock to the head. How does it go? “Every time two lesbians kiss, an angel gets his wings.”

I want inclusion at every level of society. I want an openly gay presidential candidate to stand a snowball’s chance. But I also want that harbor …that place filled everything from leather bears and the lace lesbians. Yes, as always, I want it all.

The Pirate’s Tale

Sometimes on late winter afternoons, there’s a certain slant of light that falls across the cinnamon trees and takes me to The Pride–his cabin–his bed. The years disappear and once more I am the recently rescued teen standing in his cabin waiting for him to decide my fate. Even now after all this time, I have to choke down the bile when I remember my fear, a fear I now know was unfounded. Captain Jack might have been the best known buccaneer on the Spanish Main, but I had never heard of this Englishman and his deeds. I was French born.

As usual, my friend, I tell my tale far too quickly and forget that you, dear reader, do not yet know it. To begin at the beginning rather than the end, I was born to one of the provincial families in France. We might have been of good name and nobles of the sword once, but now we had only a small parcel of land and great debt to call our own. Some years after I left the castle, I heard that some of Mamere’s jewels had joined with those of the good Florentine women to decorate His Holiness’ papier-maché tiara, but of course it was through the pawn broker not family generosity or their overwhelming sense of Catholic awe. With mouths to feed and our ancestral land at stake, I was sold to an Arab trader before I saw my first decade. He taught me the urbane and sophisticated ways I would need to become a master at my trade in the pleasure houses for which I was destined. I was sold from one brothel to the next–a noble by birth, poor by the throw of the dice, and accomplished in pleasure–a commodity traded like spice or silk–as precious and as expendible. I had taken the Arab’s tuition to heart. I plied my trade well with a smile on my face and developed a deep throated groan of pleasure that belied my years, and an eye for the franc, pound, drachma, or doubloon.

“You are a gift from Heaven,” the Cardinal declared. Then he vested for Maundy Thursday’s Mass. I made my way to out of the church and back to the house. I had learned my part and learned it well. He bought me the next day, and I spent a year living in his house. Sometimes, I spent the day in the confessional with him. I learned many of the sins of rich and powerful, and I could have made my fortunes peddling their secrets. But I reasoned if the penitents knew what was happening as they told him their sins, they would have stoned us both in the sanctuary–with a papal blessing I’m sure. It was rumored his holiness has his own pleasure boy, but I cannot say for certain. Rumors are as common as whores and I learned even before the Arab never to pay them mind. I still wear the ruby ring His Eminence gave me–first I wore it on a chain around my neck. Now that I have grown and it fits my finger, it never leaves. The other hand bears the diamond ring from Captain Jack put there lovingly one day in Vienna. Again dear reader, I entreat your indulgence with me. I am ahead of myself again. But that is how one’s memory runs ne c’est pas? It’s not one straight shot like a ball from the cannon; it flows haphazardly a river overflowing its banks. At last however, the Cardinal set his sights on his own tiarra, and I, now both a liability and an asset, was sold, with great sadness he assured me, to the captain of Le Souricier.

I’d been blessed with fair, pale skin, flame red hair, and eyes green as emeralds–yet another reason I could easily be sold and bought. We gingers are considered to be void of Soul. I’ll let God, or Allah, or Whoever worry after my soul. I played the lot I was cast. “Allea iacta est,”and I cross the Rubicon. Men loved me, and Mon Capitaine was no different. I was a prize to him a trophy for his bed. He intended to sell me I’m sure, but for now, I was a French noble groaning with delight at his touch and writhing in faux pleasure from his kiss. Never mind that I was no less his property than the Spanish victims of the Asiento taken from the ports of Sierra Leone to work the mines and sugar fields in the new world. His ship was no slaver, and he didn’t consider me his slave–his property yes, his slave no. I fail to see the difference. Chattel is chattel.

On the night a storm lit the sky with a blaze of light and a rattle of the heaven. I lay in his arms and he played with the gold rings that ran through my nipples in a prelude to giving himself pleasure with my body. The storm was of such strength when it fell full on us that we all felt destined to explore the bottom of the Sargasso Sea. We pitched back and forth wave unto wave until in the end we were broken up like some toy left in the gutter after a spring rain. I grabbed hold of the desk in his cabin and managed to stay afloat. For that night and the next day I clung to that damned desk not for my life, or the soul I am told I do not possess, but merely because I could not fathom giving up. I would not die here easily. I’d fought too hard to give in now. My life would have to be ripped from my body. I lost consciousness and dreamed that I was a dolphin able to negotiate the seas with ease. When I awoke, I was on a beach. I didn’t know how I got there. Perhaps Apollo saw me as work saving and sent one of his dolphins to rescue me. I didn’t know where this atoll was. I didn’t even know that it was an atoll until later when the men took me to their ship, but again I race too quickly. I was naked. I was beaten. I was bruised. I was dazed and confused. I wandered up the coast of what I now know was an island. There was a group of men taking fruits and water into a small boat. Off a ways was the ship. I hollered for them in my native French. They pulled their guns on me.

Having passed through some of the best whorehouses in Europe, I learned to speak a many languages: my native French, Spanish, Portuguese, German, English, and from His Eminence Latin. I get food from the Arabs, and I read Aristotle in his native tongue. I was a learned trollop after all. I went through every language at my command. Finally, they understood my English. I explained what happened. They knew of no storm. Well, perhaps providence placed me with them. As I said, I was naked except for the rings in my nipples, earlobes, and the Cardinal’s ring–no my ring–around my neck. They took pity on me, and put in the boat. I would go to the ship to meet their Captain. It was his ship, and they had signed on to work with him in an adventure. It was what I would now call democratic, this crew, but at that time I had neither the word nor the concept. They seemed happy with their captain. He might let me stay depending on what talents I could bring. They told me. Should I tell them that I could dance like a courtesan from the East, or that I could give the best fellatio west of Constantinople? Had they need for these things on their ship? I did not know. For now, they were my salvation, and their Captain Jack was my judge and my executioner.

I was sat in a room naked with only my jewels to my name. A brief knock came to the door as it opened and a boy about my age stepped in. “I was sent to help you get ready to meet Captain Jack when he returns. They call me Sir Luke, but I’m no knight,” he said. I looked at him. His dark hair, swarthy skin, and brown eyes were in such contrast to mine that I was taken aback. I had seen skin tanned by toil in the Sun before; those men could never afford the prices I commanded, but for some reason this dark and frail boy fascinated me.

“They said you were on the island.”

“I got there somehow after the ship sank,” I told him.

“Going to make your fortunes?”

“Owned by the captain,” I said blythely.

“Owned? People shouldn’t own people.” He looked at me with some mixture of pity and disgust.

“I was probably bound for another whorehouse. It is my life. I know of no other.”

“I ran away from a whorehouse too,” he said. “But enough of that, stand up. We’ll get you bathed.” I stood from my seat. He gasped aloud. “You’ve still got ‘em,” he exclaimed.

“Got what?”

“You’re balls. How’d you keep ‘em?” I understood him instantly. Most of the whore-boys were castrated to keep them boy-like for as long as possible. That was why he fascinated me. He was rather girlish looking. “I think some of the men wanted to raise me to service them,” I managed to say. In truth, I had always been the one taking it. I had only penetrated once. It was with one of the mates on the ship from which the sea had taken me. He offered me gold coins from the Papal States to do to him what had always been done to me. The pleasure I took outweighed those coins now lost at the bottom of the sea. Silently Sir Luke guided me into a wooden vat and called out to some unseen companions.

“I’m going to be raped before they kill me,” I thought. I was ready for way the die fell. My fears were soon abated, for it was merely some of the crew with buckets of hot water. They dumped it over me and into the vat. It penetrated my muscles like strong wine penetrates the senses. I hadn’t realized how much I hurt. My fair skin had burned under the tropical Sun, and my hair was a tangle. The men retreated and Sir Luke took off his shirt then his shoes. “Go on sit down,” he gently commanded. He washed my hair and began on my shoulders and down my back. He came around front and washed my chest and down my arms. I moaned with pleasure. He ignored me and continued his ministrations. He motioned for me to stand up. He tended to my legs next. I looked down and saw that the water was filthy and full of sand. Next he had me sit on the edge of the vat and he washed my feet. Over the years, I had been well treated–as well treated as he had been abused. He might be fine now, but I could see scars and a slight limp to his gait. No, I didn’t pity this boy. He had gotten away. I pitied those still left behind. The girls who would have their babies sold, the boys who would die at the hands of some master. The ones who survived would be turned out to beg when they were too old to earn their keep. I reached out and hugged Sir Luke not to comfort him, but to take comfort from him. He hugged me back.

“Come now, let’s finish”, he told me. I could feel the blood just starting to rush to my member as he continued bathing me. Next he sat me into the cooling water did my hands as he’d done my feet. The door opened and more hot water came in to be added to the vat. He reached under the water and found my cock. It was hard in his hands, and he washed it slowly, deliberately, professionally. I came close to orgasm but never threw it out. Sir Luke plied his trade well.

I was out of the water and standing on the floor with a puddle forming at my feet while he dried me. “You’re skin’s not used to the Sun,” he said. He bade me lay on the table after he covered it with a sheet. He pulled a bottle of oil from his pants. “It keeps it warm,” he said. He’d been well taught, I have to say that. With all my talents and teaching, I would have never thought of doing that. He poured the oil on my body and worked it into my skin. I’d had this before many times–usually before being taken market. They want to make you look your best. He took extra time with my feet. I think they fascinated him. “Come on, let’s get you turned over,” He rubbed the oil into my chest and worked it deep into my stomach. He seemed to be ignoring my member as it increased in size. He slid his hands onto one thigh then the other. I could feel the blood racing through my groin and the foreskin begin to pull back. “You seem to be enjoying this,” he said. I groaned wit real pleasure this time. Slyly his thumb slid up my ass. He worked it gently. It felt like nothing I’d felt before. Next his mouth was on my penis. He gave me his best. His dark hair against the copper of my pubes was almost more than I could stand. Again before I could die the little death, he pulled away and stood up. “Can’t let you go that quickly…What’s your name, Mate?”

That wasn’t an easy question. My name changed often over the years (sometimes over the course of a night) it was usually at the pleasure of the person paying to call me what he liked. Finally I chose what the Arab had called me “Amaras, you can call me Amaras,” I told him. He repeated it, got used to it on his tongue. The sound of my name in his mouth was more than I could stand. I pulled him to me and kissed him deeply not like some buyer who’d put a florin in my hand but like a lover. It was a deep kiss filled with a passion I’d never know before. Maybe it was the kindness he’d given me. I’m not sure. I kissed my way down his torso and began pulling at his pants.

“Amaras don’t,” he knew where I was going. I did not listen. I pulled his pants down. Sure enough, he had no balls, but his penis was still there. Sometime they take that away too in an effort to make you more like a woman. “I’m not like you’re used to,” he pleaded. I didn’t care. I took him in my mouth anyway. He was still a man. Plaisir is pleasure. He would still feel good even if it was different from the men with the gold. The difference excited me. He groaned. You can fool a customer but you can’t fool another whore. I stopped. “No damn you go on,” he groaned at me. My skills were now coming into play. I laid him down and spread his legs. I stuck my tongue in his ass and heard him groan again. “Fuck me,” he ordered.

I worked my mouth some more on his cock, and licked and nipped my way back up his torso then to his mouth. Now was the time. I thrust deep into him. He let out a little cry. That’s another thing I’ve been blessed with–a man’s dick of good length and girth. When I finished, we were sweaty our hearts pounding. We collapsed on the floor in a heap wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Come on Amaras we can go to my bed and sleep.” I needed to sleep. We literally stumbled to his cabin and fell into his bed. It was strange to lay in bed with someone who and expect neither payment or reward for it. I slept the sleep of the angels. Sometime in the night a bang came at the door. “Sir Luke, is the castaway with you?” Luke opened the door to his little room and answered that was. “Cap’n wants to see ‘im.” I heard the footsteps retreat. Luke’s room was very small. There was barely enough room for him to stand between the bed and the wall, and the door opened out onto the deck because there wasn’t enough room for it to open in. He fussed because I had no clothes to put on. Having spent so much of my life naked it didn’t bother me to parade anyplace wearing only my jewels and what God gave me. I said I would go meet his captain as I’d come to the ship. It was no use arguing with me, so he let me be. He did brush my hair into place, but that was all I’d allow before he took me to my fate.

Captain Jack wasn’t in his cabin when we arrived, but one of the shipmates said that he’d left instructions for us to wait for him. Then he left us. The cabin was fine, but it lacked the opulence I’d seen on my last ship. One thing did out shine the other and that was the captain’s desk made of a polished black wood and was polished enough to use as a mirror, and a large feather bed big enough for three (it was even better than the Cardinal’s). The walls were paneled in some dark wood–not as dark as the desk though. There were oil lamps on the walls, and where Sir Luke’s cabin was small this one was large; it even had a table and chairs so the captain could be served his meals here. Suddenly I was scared. The red wisps of hair stood up on my arms, and I felt the bile rise in my throat. What if I were marooned with nothing but a flask of water? They did that to people sometimes. Even I had heard those tales. If you were lucky they gave you a pistol and the means to put a ball in your head to get it over with. There were other horrible things they could do to me as well. What if I ended up a eunuch like Sir Luke? I’d grown accustomed to my set over the years after all. Sensing my worry, Sir Luke said to me “You’ve nothing to fear Amaras, Captain Jack’s a good man.”

“And a fair one,” boomed a baritone voice as the door opened. In stepped a man that I might have seen on the streets of any city in Europe. Even without the jewel heels on his shoes, he would be a tall man. His long blonde hair was arranged in the fashion of the cities and tied with a black velvet ribbon. His clothes were of the latest mode. Seeing the surprise that must be evident on my face he said, “don’t worry I’m only a dandy on dry land. I’ve not had a chance to change into my sea clothes,” he said. “It looks like you haven’t had a chance to change at all.”

“I come in all I have,” I answered as my emerald green eyes meet his sapphire blue ones. Usually I am hard and calculating when I meet someone. After all, it’s either a new master or a new customer. This was different. My heart melted, and I knew that all my life had led me to this one point. It was not lust. I knew too much of that and what it felt like and how to deal with it. I was in love. I saw the two of us naked on that bed–our motions transmitting through the ship and rocking in time with our motions. It became visible to Captain Jack as well.

“Sir Luke will help you find some suitable clothing,” he told me. And then I could tell by the expression on his face that he remembered something unpleasant he had to do. The kindness on his face vanished and he looked at Sir Luke with barely contained anger. “And as to you Sir Luke, if you sell yourself to another member of the crew, it will be Mofoe’s Law for you.” I later learned that Mofoe’s Law is forty lashes, lacking one, on the bareback. “Give yourself away to every man on the ship if you like, but you’re not here to sell your assets. You abandoned that life before it ruined you. Remember that if you forget everything else.” As far as I know, to this day Sir Luke has remained true to that order. Next Captain Jack questioned me about my past and my family. It seemed endless. He dismissed Sir Luke and bade him find me suitable pants. He motioned for me to sit down and poured a glass of rum. I was surprised when he handed it to me and poured another for himself. I was used to wines, brandies, and the liquors of nobility, but this drink was new to me. It was curiously strong and warming, but it brought me to my senses somehow. He explained to me about his own family. Like me, Captain Jack came from a noble family–as wealthy as mine was indigent. This was not the average buccaneer ship. We were the Robin Hood of the Sea. The Pride sailed the sea robbing from the rich, setting the enslaved free, and heading back to the ports of Europe where a share of the gold would be distributed to the poor. Let the girls in their veils take bread to the garrets in Paris. We took gold to the poor wherever they were. “You must learn to fight,” he told me. “Every person on this ship must be able to fire a gun and use a sword to defend himself if nothing more. There’s no room for one who cannot or will not..” He need not say more.

The rum went to my head, and my second night on the ship was spent passed out in the captain’s bed. When I woke the next day he laughed at my headache and had a pair of pants for me to put on. “These will do you for now,” he said watching me pull them on. They were too long, and he took his knife and cut them to a length that I wouldn’t trip over. The coiffure was gone, the leather patch on his cheek discarded, and he was more handsome as a would be cutthroat than the fine gentleman of court. “Go find some food then report back here. Your sword training begins today.”

He kept his word and personally taught me to use the sword and the pistol and the flintlocks. Thomas showed me how to ready the cannons, and others taught me about the sails, or how to figure provisions for a voyage. While my brain reeled and my body ached from the learning, something else happened. I began to see, and to feel the ache of, muscles forming. Here to fore I had been pampered–an exotic pet to be doted on. Never had I lifted more than my ankles in the air. Now I was running the deck with sacks of rice, and fighting with a sword, and raising sails. My skin took on freckles but never browned.

I continued to sleep in Sir Luke’s room, but never again did he play my whore. He watched me pleasure myself from time to time, but that was the extent of our intimacy together. We did become close friends. “Can you read,” he asked me one night as he lay beside me. I sat up and looked at his face in the moonlight that came through the opened door. I’d been taught and had been able to keep the skill. “Can you teach me?” Captain Jack allowed me a book from his shelf on the condition that I teach others as well.

There were raids on other ships, bounty earned, ports visited, and new adventures for me almost daily. No man on the ship advanced to me. They taught me to work and just as importantly to have fun. Except with the Cardinal, my owners had kept me from sight and the brothels are always in the part of town where decent men deny going. With the Cardinal, I was easily considered his protege one who would be taught from a master before going to my formal education. So while I’d learned much on land about how to be kept and those things that I could read in books, on the seas I learned to be myself, and if that meant that I was held in no man’s arms, I didn’t complain. For the first time in my life I was more than chattel with no purpose beyond the farthing and the next master of my bed. I had earned gold too–and this time without fake grunts, false smiles, and calloused shoulders.

One night while showing me to read the stars and chart a course Jack spoke to me in a tone I’d rarely heard. “I’ve never had a taste for women,” Captain Jack told me. His older brother had dutifully married and produced both an heir and a spare in rapid succession, so there had been no need for him to live a life he didn’t want. The sea gave him, and his shipmates, the freedom to be who they were. Some liked women, others preferred the embrace of a man, and others desired both. In fact some of the men actually shared a wife back on the Land. My eyebrows knitted together, and I looked at him with astonishment. He then explained matelotage to me. On the ship they lived as a married couple. One would inherit what the other had if he died.

I looked into his eyes, and wondered at the man behind them. He’d always treated me with a deference–a kindness more so–that one of my station in life might not expect. Now that I think on it, he treated me as a man to the manner born, not some tosspot from the dung heap. Even with the prices I commanded, that’s all I had ever been really–even to my own parents. I was something bought–something sold. A commodity for pleasure. I danced and smiled on command and when they were finished for the moment it was be good and put away out of sight. For a fuck for a frank call Amaras.

Jack leaned in and kissed me–tenderly, gingerly at first as though I might reject him. When instead of rejecting him my will soul transpired at every pour with instant fires, he became an amorous bird of prey. I was shocked–pleasantly shocked. I wanted this. No, I wanted more than this. I wanted it all. I wanted to give him a pleasure he’d never felt, and I wanted him to push me to something I had never known, a general affection for the one fucking me. With a skillful hand, jack pull my pants from me. And his hand caressed and toyed with me. He smelled of cinnamon. That is why I make my home here among the crop, that smell will always be Jack to me. He kissed his way down my throat and his tongue toyed with the rings in my nipples. I arched, ready to begin the ritual that would lead to the Pleasure of the Night. “Not here. Not like this,” he whispered in my ears. He picked me up in his arms and carried me to his cabin. The door was open. Maybe he’d planned this somehow. I did not know his intent, and I did not care. He put me on the bed and kissed me again. “You may have bedded half the lords of Europe, but tonight you are again a virgin,” he said. Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine. He fondled me until I was ready to explode. I might have been the whore, but he was the expert at pleasure. My tricks were child’s play to what he could do. He literally ripped my pants off and took me in his mouth. Almost instantly, I filled it with my juices. He swallowed and laughed at me. “I’ve been waiting to have you since I first saw you. Tonight you’re mine,” he told me.

“Tomorrow too if you want me,” I said.

“No, my little red wolf, only if you still want me.” He stood from the bed and turned. I made a sobbing sound, for I thought he was done, but the night was just beginning. He stripped for me–he had to have learned that in the brothels. I watched as he peeled of his layers of mask. He was everything a whore could want–tall, strong, hung like a horse, and able to fuck from dusk til dawn. He shoved his tongue in my mouth, once more and fondled me as he darted it in and out playing a child’s game of tag with mine. His tongue mimicked with my mouth what his cock would do with my ass later. With his mouth on my member, he played with my hole putting his thumb in it before reaching under the bed for a bottle of oil. He slid into me like he was afraid I might cry out. I did but from the pure pleasure he gave me. When we were exhausted, he pulled me into his embrace and we slept.

Since coming to the ship, I had worn nothing but those knife altered pants I had been given. They were now lost somewhere in the night, and once again I roamed the ship unncumbered. I was easy access for Jack. They were replaced with another pair as ill fitted and in as poor a shape as the first. This time, they were too short and needed no knife to alter the length. I prized these workman’s pants that were better than the silk, satin, velvet, and furs I’d been wrapped in most of my life. Now, I was not different than most men. I put in a day’s work and earned a share of the rewards. Maybe in a port sometime I could find more suitable clothes, but here on the waters, I was dressed as I pleased. Some days I chose not to dress at all.

The next morning in the full light of the Sun, I did still want him, and again that night as the Full Moon lit our lovemaking on the deck I wanted him.

He’s been dead ten years, and I want him still. He was my captain. No, he is and always will be my captain. I was with him as the fever broke and took him away. I was there in that cold, rainy church yard when they lowered him into the colder British ground. The Pride was mine now, and I sailed the seas playing the nautical Robin Hood. I might have stood at the helm, but Jack was still in charge.

It could not last though. For two years we sailed. Then I found this place with the warmth, and the river, and the cinnamon trees. I left the sea behind like I had the whorehouse. Sir Luke is with me still–a friend always. He never found a mate of his own (though he joined me and Jack in bed a time or two), and after Jack, no one could ever compare. The five years in his bed were the happiest I ever spent. With life both ahead of and behind me, who knows what more will come? Sir Luke plans to write the tale of The Pride and Captain Jack. He wants to add Le Petit Lupe Rouge. I told him to leave me out. I’ll tell my own one day.

Jack struck me once. Not long after he made me his own I called myself a whore as we ate our evening meal. The blow was hard, fast, and unexpected. Tears welled in my eyes more from the embarrassment than the physical pain. “You’re not a whore. You’re one of us un frere de la côte. Never forget it. Ever.” He followed it with a hug–not a sexual one a hug of kindness, compassion, fraternity, and love. “I took a virgin to my bed that night,” his hot breath blew into my ear and set me ablaze with desire. It was one he quenched.

And so, that is my tale. The World has much changed since I came. I suppose it will change even more before I leave. When I die the ring from the Cardinal will go to another hand, but the one from Jack will go with me to Heaven or to Hell. As long as I have it, I can face whatever eternity holds, for I know at the end of the trail Jack will be waiting for me.

Sic transit gloria mundi.

The King’s Tale

Faeger and I emerged from the ship glad for the fresh air of the port. Here in Bosporus our journey ended, but still we were unsure of the outcome, so the adventure was just beginning. We left our home in Niphod to come to this land so foreign from our own. I sought the hand of the prince – a man of legendary beauty, unimaginable wealth, and a vast kingdom whose borders touched those of mine. Faeger had come with me as a friend, brother, and companion. He tied his fortunes with mine and trusted to the Fates.

Our journey had been long. For two months we traveled on road, through forest, across desert, and finally by sea. When we started from my father’s palace we had horses, and pack animals, clothing, and gifts from our land to this. Now we had the clothes we wore (heavy wools and cloaks in this hot climate), our swords, a purse of gold each, and I had jewels in a bag around my neck. We walked across the pier toward the city gates and noted how we looked worse than
beggars. We had not bathed in weeks, and since setting sail we’d not removed our boots. “Fejedelem perhaps we can find someplace to bathe before we present ourselves to your prince,” Faeger said as we approached the gates.

Our entrance into the city was halted by a guard. “Who are you and where do you come from?” “I am Faeger son of Alfar from the Land of Snow,” Faeger replied before I could speak.

I stepped forward and introduced myself. “I come seeking to solve the famed Prince’s Puzzle.” The guard looked at me and either gleaned my royal blood through the dirt and stench or sought to see me strung up the next morning. He summoned two guards to escort us to the Palace. “Can we not find some inn to bathe and a tailor who can clothe us,” I asked. “All will be provided for at the Palace,” he said and turned his back to us. 

“I don’t think he likes you,” Faeger said with a laugh.

“He will change his mind when I am married to his prince.” The walk through the city was a long one. The Sun shone in all her glory, but she was hot and made the air full of vapors, so sweat soaked clothes made for winter in our land. Soon we could see the palace before us. It stood in the middle of a blue lake, but we saw no bridge. We were led to a pier where we were given to new guards and put on a ferry to take us across to the palace. The ride was no more than minutes, but I began to feel uneasy, and wondered if I’d been right to give up my birthright, leave my home in the north, and come here. The great doors to the palace swung open, another exchange, and we were led inside. 

ii

Shielded from the sun by pink marble the halls of the palace were cool. I knew not what to expect, but it was not for trumpets to blast and announce us then to be led before the prince of the city. He stood on a dias and looked down on us. Faeger bowed. I remained erect and looked into his eyes the grass green of his eyes. He cocked his head to one side. “You don’t bow,” he asked.

“Brother does not bow to brother,” I replied.

“Though you look worse than our beggars,” he said without a smile. “You wish to meet my challenge?”

“I have left behind my family and home, and even the snows to seek what the prince offers.” 

“The bargain is death or marriage. Do you accept the terms?”

“Only, if the Prince presents them.” A sound of shock escaped several of those assembled and I saw the man amidst the crowd. His beauty made me weak in the knees. Cupido’s shot was true, and I was in love. For this man I would have retraced all my steps and taken again all the challenges, even swimming the Great Sea rather than riding in a ship. I caught the iris blue of his eyes and knew that he too knew the prick of the arrow. “At last the True Prince takes his throne.”

“We cannot bear all to come and lay claim to the throne of Bosporus and the hand of Byzas our prince,” said the Imposter with a bow.

“But the deal is the same Stranger,” the Prince now spoke as he stepped from the crowd. “Solve the puzzle, take me to the marriage bed, and unite the Kingdoms of Snow and Sun or lie beneath our grasses unmarked and unmourned.” 

“Bedeck the marriage bed,” I said with the steely look I’ve used on opponents at the end of my sword. “I will make you mine.” 

“Come to me as a King – not an ill dressed peasant, solve my puzzle, then I will be yours. Then, Fejedelem, we shall feast.” He tilted his head to one side and taunted “Surprised I know your
name?”

“You know my land, so you know my name. Besides, I gave it to the gatekeeper when I entered your fair city.”

He laughed. “The hospitality of Bosporus is at your service. Be off. Be bathed. Later I might love thee, but now your stench quelches even my hottest passions and desires.” I laughed at him, at myself, and deigned to be led from the hall to the room apportioned for us.

iii

“With your stunts I wonder they didn’t kill us now and save the time of the puzzle,” Faegergrowled once the door to our chamber closed.

“He wouldn’t kill me before I failed. It would mean war,” I said pulling off my boot. I all but vomited from the smell of my own feet. I wonder if my mother were mortified. Faeger smelled as bad or worse if that were possible. Only here in the cleanness could we notice our own filth. We literally ripped our clothes off and threw the rags in a pile. Our faces and hands had been kissed by the Sun, so we expected them to be tanned, but the rest of our bodies were dark too – from the dirt stuck to our skins. Faeger wondered that we weren’t infested with fleas or lice. “We’re too dirty for them,” I said in seriousness. Looking around I wondered where we might bathe and saw no basins or tubs.

A here to fore hidden door behind us opened. A voice bade us come into the hamam. The room was hot, and to my surprise, women stood before us and signaled for us to stand on a grate. One pulled a chain and warm water began to flow from the ceiling. We rubbed out hands over our skin to loosen some of the grime from our travels. The water got warmer, and more grunge went into the pit below. The water cooled before stopping completely, and the women  led to tubs made of pink marble and filled with hot, steaming water. I climbed into one and sank down. After letting out a moan of ecstacy, I slid down until the water was covering my face.  When I came up for a breath, the women were gone – leaving us to soak in this luxury to which we would again become accustomed. Later I learned the water came from natural streams beneath the palace. In Bosporus there are such pools of water heated by the Furnace, but we go to them and bathe. We would never think to bring them to our homes – thinking it would bring some ill tempered God to live among us, but perhaps the Gods of Sun are different then ours.. Despite the deluge we’d stood under before getting into the tubs, the water was still colored brown when we stepped out. Faeger commented on the brown grit that lined the bottom of the pool. The women led us to a room where we were oiled and scraped. Next came the barber-women to cut our hair. Faeger allowed them to shave his face. I would only submit to my beard being clipped close. After all, my bright red hair set me apart from others, and I’ve never been one who sought to remain circumspect and unnoticed.

Cleaned, finally, from our trip and looking like we might actually be royalty, we were wrapped in sheets of the softest wool that had been dyed Tyrian purple and taken back through the rooms of the hamam to our room.

Our clothes had vanished from the floor, and the smell of fresh cleaning was noticeable. “Why did they send women to attend us,” Faeger pondered once we were alone.

“What better way to see my intentions,” I queried back. “Though you became excited, I did not. This fact they will report,” I said putting lying back on the bed.

“But I like women,” he said.

“And so my companion we need to find you a wife that will equal my consort.”

“You’re sure you’ll marry the Prince?”

“Yes, my friend. It is ordained.”   

Another hidden door opened. A boy not even ten Yules walked in carrying clothes for me and Faeger. “I am here for your bidding,” he said.

“Ah, quite well then. I have a chore for you of great urgency. Fetch us a flagon of wine and goblets too.” He looked at me blankly. “Be gone and tell your masters that I am no more into children than I am women. Bring back wine or do not come back.” He ran out.

“They would send a boy like that. What if…”   

“With soldiers waiting a pace out of sight no doubt,” I interrupted. “They stand that here no better than we would. Another test of my integrity. They needn’t have worried. I meant what I said. Only a man can share my bed.”

“Cousin, it looks like our wine is here,” he nodded toward the door. An older boy just past first beard entered carrying a tray with wine and food. He sat it on the table and bowed.

“I am Eupatrides your squire while you are with us.”

“No tricks? No attempted seductions?”

“You are a man of honor – one who will be given a chance to compete for the Prince’s hand. I have no fear of you or your woman loving friend.” Faeger and I laughed as we had not laughed in weeks. Wiping the mirth-tears from my eyes I asked him many questions about the land and its customs. He answered sometimes in great detail at others barely giving us an answer at all.  “The Banquet of Suitors is in an hour,” he finally said clearly worn out from the talk. “I will help you dress and escort you to the Hall. You will be a welcome Consort,” he prophesied.

iv

Dressed in thin silk pants and embroidered vests Faeger and I were escorted to the banquet. I wore the jewels I had carried from my land – even the simple circlet on my brow. If this prince wanted a king, I would be that. We feasted on delicacies known and unknown to us. I had conversation with the courtiers but none with the Prince as he was forbidden, by law, to attend the Banquets of the Suitors. It is best not to become attached to one who may find his head at his feet I rationalized.

Fed as we had not been since we left our home, we were ready for a night’s sleep in beds. Our bed chambers were off the main room where we’d been. “Breakfast will be brought to you tomorrow. Soon after you will have your test.”

“And find out if I’m to go to the Altar as consort or corpse,” I said matter of factly.

“The old women of the village say that the time is portent. The augers say the birds tell of the coming. The mages speak of the consort as well.”

“And what say you, son of a good father that you are?”

“We are ready for you.”

“May you speak prophecy,” I said to him. “Good night Young Prince. Your day will come soon.”

“Blood can tell blood.”

“In all ways,” I said as he shut the door.

v

The Sun brought another feast and a visit from Eupatrides. “As brother to Byzas what is your fate,” I questioned.

“I will leave here to seek my fortunes as you left Niphod.”

“May you find a prince who delights you,” I wished him.

“Like your friend, I am a lover of women.”

“Then may you find a woman who delights,” Faeger spoke before I could.

“From your mouth to the Thrones of the Gods,” he replied to Faeger with a smile. “Come, let me help you dress for your test,” he said to me with a smile.

“My day of marriage or…”

“You will be betrothed by Sunset,” Eupatrides said with more assurance than I felt.

“From your mouth to the Thrones of the Gods,” it was my turn to pray.

vi

“Surely the Minotaur will come at us at any moment,” Faeger complained as Eupatrides led the way through the maze of the Palace.

“We keep the Minotaur in the Winter Palace,” Eupatrides said with the most serious tone. “Don’t tell me I forgot to give you a ball of thread to mark your path out. I am most aggrieved,” Eupatrides said with no smile. Faeger grunted loudly. I laughed.

“You find this funny,” Faeger growled. “If you loose this challenge, I will dance on your grave just before I take a piss.”

“Cousin, today may well be my last. I pray you complain no more, and let what could be my final hours be joyous,” I commanded.

“I’m sorry Fejedelem. I forget this is literally life or death.”

The pink walls paled in the magnificence of the yellow Sun. Byzas stood on a dias looking over twelve tables set with twelve boxes and arranged in a circle. “Your test is a simple one. Find the box that contains my image. Only one box will show you my face. The others will show you your grave.”

“Such a morbid prince you are – all talk of death and none of life,” I responded stepping into the circle. “Paper, stone, precious metals, glass. You’ve of box for each set of stars.”

“But only one box holds me.”

I could do naught else but begin a song as I walked the semblance of the Great Wheel.

 Take a victory lap around my heart
 Bind my hands with silken threads
 Shackle me with just one look
 Enslave me with your touch
 Be Prince to others fairest one
 But be master of my Soul

“To find the object of my quest, I must turn my back.” I picked up the box of silver set with the symbol of the Crab. I opened it and inside was nothing. But reflected in the lid was my prince.”

“Fejedelem, bring me the box. I am yours.”

I approached the dias and looked at my betrothed. “I will release you from your vow,” I whispered.

“No, I’ve waited for you, and the Gods have sent you to me. To reject you would be blasphemy. Besides, I am quite in love with what I know of you. I want to love the rest.” He kissed me. It was the first time we had touched. I, no stranger to carnal pleasures, was enraptured. Had we been alone, I would have taken him there, but our first coupling didn’t need to be a spectacle.

vii

A year and a day later and we gather to see Eupatrides off on his quest for a bride. “Brother go out beyond our lands and find a princess who befits your rank and brings glory to Bosporus,” Byzas commanded.

“Brother,” I began.

“None of your bad poetry,” Byzas commanded. “I love you body, mind, and soul, but your poetry is as wretched as your skin the day we met…” He would have gone on had I not kissed him.

“Brother, I bid you give me a nephew to train as a warrior for our Lands. Give our people a successor to the throne, but most of all, give yourself the woman who makes you as happy as your brother has made me.”

“I will mind your words, Brother,” he said with a bow. “You won’t accompany me,” he asked Faeger.

“I’ve had enough of questing for two lives,” Faeger answered.

“And your wife wouldn’t approve,” Byzas laughed.

“Nor would my children,” Faeger added. His wife had given him twins – a boy and a girl the morning before.

Eupatrides laughed and turned to begin his adventure. We walked with him to the doors of the Palace, and according to custom turned away as he stepped on the boat that would take him across to the City. As my tale ends, his begins.