The Gift, Chapter 01

The Gift
Chapter 1

Many years ago when I was still a young man and had not yet got married. My father sent me away from our cold mountains to speak for him and our lords and ministers in a land far south. I spent some one and a half year there and saw many strange and wonderful things. I made good friends and learned I was indeed a man of the sword not of the spoken word and the pen. I found the endless negotiations tedious and frustrating. It was only a small part of my life. Still the visit changed me in more ways than one and even if I remember well the beauty of their country, the dark lushness of their women and the luxury of their ways of life (which I really got used to and left behind me sulkily). The events that I now will relate to you are what really made an imprint on my mind.

>>> * <<<

His hand shivered slightly as it neared me. It was drenched in finest oil; I could sense its heavy scent. But he didn’t reach my back, I grabbed his wrist and he stiffened. The fear was plain in his eyes, of course I wasn’t going to hurt him but he didn’t know that. From his point of view I supposed he had every reason to be afraid. If he didn’t suit me his head sat literally loose on his shoulders. I wouldn’t allow it, but he didn’t know that either.

What I didn’t know was what I was going to do with him. I was not used to having someone wait on me and certainly not in the bath. I was rather annoyed that they had sent him here, I didn’t care whether that were what they were for or not. He clenched his jaws and I realized suddenly that I was holding his wrist too hard. I let go and he exhaled relieved but otherwise didn’t make a single sound. I took the flask from him and he understood I didn’t want his help rubbing it in, he retreated to the middle of the room where he knelt but he didn’t leave and I couldn’t tell him to. I could push him out but I was too lazy to get out of the tub.

I thought that if I was to be forced to keep him I had to at least see to it that he learned a few phrases of my native tongue as soon as possible. I sighed, additional work for me, annoying little troubles that I had not anticipated. At that moment I wished I could simply return him but they would view it as an insult and kill him. They would chop his head off, if he were lucky… more likely they would strangle him.

I rubbed the oil into my skin and enjoyed both the scent and the massage that softened my stiff and sore muscles. It was a luxury of theirs that I had got used to. He was another sort of luxury that I did not want to get used to. I cast an angered look in his direction and he cowered and stared at the floor. It made me feel bad at once. It wasn’t his fault. As they saw it he was just a pretty object to be given away as a polite gift. The poor sod must fear for his very life right now sensing my disapproval.

I ignored him while I finished my bath. I was too tired to care and too eager to enjoy this bath after the strenuous hunt earlier to handle this right now. Eventually I got out of the tub and wrapped myself up in a large towel. He still knelt at the tiled floor and still stared down into it as I went up to him. He tried not to move but I could see that he followed my feet across the floor out of the corner of his eyes. I put my hand on his shoulder and he raised an arm, a sheer reflex it seemed as if he thought I was going to hit him.

I wasn’t very good at speaking their language but now I tried to make myself understood. "You don’t have to be afraid" I told him.

Or I hoped that was what I told him because he looked rather surprised at my words. But I guess that to him that would be surprising even if I did get the words right. I signed to him to get on his feet and he obeyed but stubbornly kept his gaze on the floor. I knew he was supposed to do that but it still annoyed me. To me it signaled more of a guilty conscious than respect. How can a person show you respect by refusing to meet your eyes? I didn’t know how to tell him to look up so I simply grabbed his chin and tilted his head up. But even if I forced his face up his eyes still refused to meet mine

I studied his face. It was smooth and beardless of course, he never had one and would never grow one either. I suspected there were other parts of his body he missed more. He wasn’t tall; reached me to my shoulder and casting only a short glimpse at him he could very well be taken for a girl. His face could as well have been a girl’s were it not for a certain angularity to it. He had big dark eyes, a thinly ridged nose, exquisitely curved lips, high cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin. These appealing features were enhanced with crimson, umber and kohl. These pigments helped create the illusion of a woman of course but I thought he would have been quite pretty even without it. Long brown/blackish hair framed it all and through it I could spot a pair of big silver hoops in his ears but that was the only jewelry he wore. He was dressed in some dark green robe that also could have been worn by a woman. Even if it covered his whole body, the hem reaching the floor, long sleeves, high neck, I could see that he was very lean. He still looked scared, I could sense that he didn’t want to be here anymore than I wanted him here.

I asked him his name; it was a simple enough phrase for me to have learnt it well. Then finally he met my eyes for a few seconds and again looked surprised but answered meekly. His voice was strangely indefinable. It reminded of a child’s voice but it wasn’t, it reminded of a woman’s voice, but it wasn’t. It was clearly not a man’s voice but it reminded of that too. It struck me that those definitions could be used to describe him on the whole. I guessed it was the curse of the kinds of his, to remind of both a man and a woman and also a child but being none of that. It was for that matter impossible to guess his age. He could be 15 or 25, I couldn’t tell.

But his apparent beauty didn’t strike me as much as the dull and lifeless look in his eyes. I could see feelings in his face and movements, fear, apprehension, worry…but nothing seemed to reach his eyes which seemed empty and without spark. Seeing such a resigned look in a young person's eyes I thought it could be interesting to keep him on for a while after all. My curiosity had been raised and I guess my compassion too.

I had to admit my curiosity also concerned his anatomy, I had heard of his kind and I had shuddered at the thought but had never seen such a nut-less groin and could not imagine what it would look like. Now I could easily have ordered him to show me and I was tempted, but decided not to. It would take too much effort to try to explain what it was that I wanted from him and besides it would probably scare him even more.

I let go of him and reached for my clothes. By now he had probably understood I didn’t want his help in anything and he didn’t try to assist me. He stood as before as I got dressed and as I went for the door he would probably had remain standing like an effigy right there if I hadn’t waved him along.

>>> * <<<

I went to find the ceremonial master and found him soon enough. He was in his library as was mostly the case.

"Greetings my friend," he said in his old creaky voice as I stepped inside.

I liked the old man. He was wise if anyone was and a mild character. But there was no one that didn’t respect him and no one looked down at his arched old back, grayish hair and small frame. He had helped me much here, as he spoke my language he had been assigned to guide me. He was also the one that had taught me the few phrases I knew of his language, but I admit I have been a slow learner.

"Good morning Master Tesuan," said I in reply, "am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not, what can I do for you?"

I smiled a wry smile and pointed behind me at the green clad slave in my tracks.

Lord Tesuan looked behind me and smiled too. "I see," he said.

"Is this by any chance the gift you mentioned that the Emir would give me?"

He smiled even wider. "That would be the one, yes."

"Is there any chance that I could return him?"

"Of course," leered the old man, "only tell the Emir that he’s not what you want. He will give you someone else, a girl maybe? Well, he will destroy this one and give you a new one."

He was joking with me I could tell. Not that what he said wasn’t the absolute truth, we both knew that, but he knew that that wasn’t what I‘d meant.

"Hm, I don’t exactly want a servant of any kind…"

"Impossible, at least in this palace."

I sighed. "That’s what I was afraid of. Then can you tell him a few things for me?"

The old man nodded and looking past me again he motioned for the boy to come inside the room and approach him. The slave obeyed at once and knelt before the old man.

He didn’t tell him to rise again but turned to me. "What do you want him to know?"

I thought about it for a while. Yes, what did I want? "I want you to tell him that he has nothing to fear, I’ll keep him. At least until I leave the castle. But after that I can’t take him with me. If he’ll be in danger here I’ll take him as far as the city to find someone to take him in but that’s all I can do."

I paused and Lord Tesuan spoke to him, translating my words. The slave nodded slowly in response as to show that he had heard what he was being told but didn’t seem to react on the words in any other way.

I continued. "I want you to tell him that he doesn’t have to wait on me hand and foot, that will only annoy me, tell him to keep out of the way as much as possible."

"Now you’re being stupid," Lord Tesuan said.

"What? Why?"

"Serving is all he knows how to do and you shouldn’t keep the likes of him lazy like that. Let him serve you, there’s no shame in it either for you or for him. You are not lazy for receiving some service. Your mind and body is made for greater things, let him take care of the lesser things, that’s what he is for. Besides you’ll need as much rest as you can possible get. You are heading towards trying times," he silenced and let his word sink in before he continued, "don’t feel uncomfortable by having him at your feet, it doesn’t hurt him, he doesn’t know anything else. Enjoy the luxury while it last."

I thought about it. I supposed he was right. "Well, then tell him that I’m not used to servants like him but that I will try to accept it… Try! I don’t want him annoying me."

Lord Tesuan smiled. "He won’t, they can be shadows these ones if they are required to. Anything else I should tell him?"

"No, I think that was all… Oh no, wait, tell him to learn my language or at least some of it. Is there by any chance any possibility that you might teach him a few phrases? Just to get by…" I silenced awkwardly as I started to feel embarrassed by my request, as if the ceremonial master didn’t have enough important things to attend to already. He wouldn’t have time to teach a slave how to talk a foreign language.

Lord Tesuan saw my embarrassment and laughed. "I suppose it would be practical if he spoke a word or two of your language. Especially since you seem to make so little progress in learning ours… We do have little time for such, both you and me but I tell you what. We will both teach him, little by little. I’ll tell him that he’s supposed to learn as much as he can and he will certainly pick up a few phrases and words on his own as well."

"You think he can?"

"I’m sure of it, they did remove his testicles but lucky for us I think they kept his brains…"

He laughed out aloud at this joke and I joined wholeheartedly in it. Relieved at the opportunity to laugh away that awkward moment I felt had arisen in the room as I talked silly and was mildly and lovingly taunted for it.

>>> * <<<

Two months later I must confess I had started to feel used to having the cut slave around. He had learned to speak my language surprisingly well. Placing the words in the right order seemed to present a problem for him and his sentences was sometime a riddle to solve but his pronunciation was very good and he was fast in picking up new words and remember them.

As to serving me he learned quickly what annoyed me but anything that didn’t create a frown on my face he was eager to do for me and I couldn’t say anything else than that he performed it all to my satisfaction. He spoke very little, never said a word that I didn’t had to pull out of him. He circled around me like a shadow and was always gone in an instant if I was annoyed by his presence as if he could read my thoughts. All in all I couldn’t say that he ever did anything that should have been a cause of irritation for me.

I was still quite, quite mean to him sometimes. I don’t know why? Maybe because he never gave me a reason to punish him for anything. He never disobeyed me or challenged my orders or showed any disrespect or even made mistakes. Maybe it was the perfectibility of his manners that annoyed me? But I didn’t touch him at first, I only snapped at him or called him demeaning things.

The first time I really hurt him I was already in a bad mood. The negotiations with the other diplomats that morning had gone really bad. I had talked to deaf ears it seemed and I was greatly upset and frustrated as I returned to my quarters. Seeing his meek appearance in my rooms angered me even more. He raised his gaze at me as I surprisingly walked in much earlier than anticipated and that gave me the excuse I needed to let my anger out on him. I slapped him across the mouth. Not that hard really but I was strong and he was small and my rings slit his lip. His head snapped to the side at the hit but he regained his posture the seconds after and stood as before. He didn’t say a word or moved a muscle. There was only a slight shiver to his shoulders that told me of the fear, pain and turmoil that must have raged inside of him. That he simply accepted the utterly unfair blow I had given him made me even more furious and I raised my hand to strike him again. He didn’t even try to avoid it, he only raised his hands to protect his face and I could have sworn that he would not even have done that if it had not been a reflex and he couldn't control it. But the sight of the blood trickling from his lip over his chin made me hold my hand and shame replaced the anger at hurting such a defenseless creature.

No matter my shame, hitting him became a regular occurrence and he endured it all without a word of protest. I couldn’t understand it but I thought that maybe he preferred being hit now and then, then to risk me sending him away in which case he would get his neck decorated by a silk string. I admit I enjoyed hurting him. I did always feel guilty about it. It did feel wrong to hit him. Still it gave me some strange satisfaction to see his face contort with pain at a slap to his cheek or from a lash over his shoulders with whatever I could reach that would not kill him to use. It was wrong. He rarely did anything to deserve it. He was so much smaller and weaker than I was and he was a total victim to my arbitrary whims. It was indeed a cowardly deed to pick a fight with such a pathetic and helpless creature. But I realized that that was what I was doing. I wasn’t punishing him; I wanted to provoke some actions out of him. See some spark in those dead eyes of his. That he simply kept taking my abuse without a reaction really annoyed me and beckoned to the surface my most vicious nature it seemed.

I changed him too. I didn’t like the way they had enhanced his androgynous nature. I made him dress in men’s clothes and forbade him the use of any pigmentation and took the earrings from him. I made him always keep his knee-long hair tightly tied back and not flowing freely like on a woman. I don’t know what he thought of these changes. He obeyed and didn’t say a word about it. I thought he ought to be happy not to be forced being like a woman, but I guess he was used to it. It didn’t do much good anyway. He still looked like a girl dressed out in men’s clothes and his female manners was harder to extinguish. He had a slow graceful way of moving around that spoke against any manly attributes that I would make him wear. I didn’t feel as bad about changing him as when I hit him in any case. But I’m ashamed to admit I would soon do worse things to him…

>>> * <<<

I’m not sure what brought it on. I had been in the city all day with a group of court cavaliers. A bunch of sissy snobs I would say but they sure knew how to have fun and long into the night they showed me every tavern and brothel in the city worth visiting, and we had tried out the ale and the wine of every place.

All of them seemed bent on trying out the women of every place as well but I was still not drunk enough to grab at every worn out harlot that wobbled her flabby breasts in my face. But I was really in the mood too and I thought that if I found a pretty enough whore that I would pay her a handsome sum to make her satisfy me in any way I wanted to. But then I saw this woman at one if the inns.

She was something else entirely. The moment she walked in I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was pretty of course but many women are. She had something else, not that kind of empty beauty that so many pretty girls own. Her eyes had sparks of intelligence and she had character. Now, that was a woman you didn’t want to pay, that was a woman you wanted to make want you. And with my manly pride built up by a glass or two too much of wine I ventured out to seduce this woman…and failed miserably… Maybe it had been my strange blond hair or my funny way of speaking their language? Maybe I had simply been too drunk? The woman left with another man’s arm around her waist and gave me a scornful smile over her shoulder as they slipped out into the night.

As I went back to the palace in the early morning hours I was in a very bad mood. I already had a throbbing headache from all the drinking and I was sorely hurt in my manly pride. I was still aroused too.

I crashed through the doors, cursing and decided to drink myself to sleep and I headed for the slave’s bed to kick him awake so he could serve me some wine. He was already up. As usual he was standing there with his gaze at the floor waiting for orders. I got mad just looking at him but as always he did his best to not give me a reason to punish him. Had he been waiting up for me all night? Maybe not, making the sounds I did coming home I would have woken up a graveyard. I refrained from hitting him there and then with some difficulty and told him to get me wine and then I threw myself at the soft divans in my sitting room. He returned soon enough with a decanter and a glass for me. Drunk though I was I could see he was nervous now. He must have known I was just looking for a reason to hurt him and he was scared.

I don’t know if his nervousness made him clumsy, or (which was more likely) if I was too drunk to keep my glass still. In either case he spilled wine on my arm. Poured half a glass over my sleeve. My shirt soaked it up rather quickly but some still dripped in my lap and my clothes, which had bright colors, got badly stained.

I remained still and quiet for a few seconds but we both knew that was just the calm before the storm. He usually never tried to get away from me as I hit him but this time he must have known it would be worse than usual. Sober I was maybe easy angered but always controlled my temper again rather quickly. Drunk, he probably suspected I wouldn’t care to control myself at all. He backed away from me as I clumsily rose from the low divan, but as he realized he couldn’t get away from me he dropped to his knees at my feet and tried to protect his head with his arms. I pulled him up again by his hair and hit him across the face with the back of my hand. I struck him that hard that I at once got as stained with his blood as I was with the wine. He fell to the floor again and I was satisfied to hear moans and whimpers of real pain from him. I think a part of me wanted him to stand up and hit me back, but of course he didn’t.

He was sprawled at my feet shaking, trying to stop the flow of blood from his nose with his hands. And maybe he had not had the time to tie his hair back, it flowed over his back in dark curls and I was swaying and felt hot but I wasn’t sure it was from anger anymore. She had had hair like that… she had laughed at me… it felt kind of good to see her crawl at my feet now with a bloodied nose. I’d show her…

I didn’t think, I reacted from pure instinct it seemed. I grabbed him by the hair and pushed him against a sideboard. Made him bend over it. I don’t know if he understood what I was going to do to him but he must have been more scared than ever because he actually tried to struggle a little but he went limp and co-operative enough after I had hit him a few more times.

I can’t describe what I did then more clearly than that I simply raped him. I still today don’t like to think about it, but at that moment I did not care. And I had wanted him to react? Now he did. He screamed in utter agony and tried to claw away from the excruciating pain that ravaged his body as I tore him open. (I found marks from his nails on the wooden tabletop later.) He cried like a woman and begged me to stop. I wasn’t listening; I was too aroused to care about his pleadings, too angry to care about that I hurt him. When I finally was relieved and released him he fell in a heap at the floor and sobbed uncontrollably.

I looked down at my doings. I felt sober now and sickened at what I’d done. He bled all over it seemed and at the sight of that I finally woke up from my numbness. I couldn’t get him to stand on his feet so I simply lifted him up and carried him to the bath, he seemed to weigh no more than a child does in my arms and it didn’t make me feel better. I got his clothes off of him and started to try to clean the blood from his body. He had stopped crying and had regained his usual manners it seemed, but I could see he was very shook up. His eyes were wide open and he was shaking like a leaf. But he let me take care of him.

Needless to say I was greatly ashamed of myself the next day. Not only because what I had done to the poor boy but for the deed in itself too. I had never felt myself drawn to men before and I thought the act a shameful one. I knew many men of this court used the cut boys like this quite often. Here it wasn’t considered a shameful act since they were not really considered men. But among my people we had nothing of his kind and woman-like as he was I couldn’t get pass the fact that he after all was a man, however reduced in manliness.

I blamed the whole thing on my drunken state, I blamed the proud woman at the inn that had remained cold towards my courting and I blamed his feminine nature that had teased my growing tensions. And in the end I talked against myself and defended my actions by making it into an act of dominance and rage that had had nothing really to do with sexual desires. And I think it indeed was about all of those things, but maybe there was something else there too?

In any case I avoided thinking about it. And there were three weeks left until I was to leave for home and up till then I intended to treat the slave good to make up for what I had done to him. I wasn’t going to say I was sorry to his face, but I wouldn’t treat him badly anymore. Before I were to leave I would find someone in the city to take him in and then I wouldn’t have to see him any more and could lay this behind me.