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Chapter 11
Holiday Revelations II
The Holidays come to a climactic ending as Andreas schemes on Bertrand's behalf. Chadi settles in, and an obnoxious schoolmate meets with an unfortunate fate.
In the days leading up to Eryk and the others heading home for the Winter Celebration with their families, Chadi finally woke up. He'd battled a high fever, delirium, and Armand had even put him in the metal tub outside, filled with freezing water from the rocky stream, to cool him. When his fever finally broke, Armand declared that the worst of it was past. The angry redness around Chadi's wounds, packed with honey and mustard plasters, had gone away. He awoke, confused, to find Armand standing over him. I suppose that would be a shock?
Dieter came to fetch us and give us the news, as he'd declined to go home.
Chadi was reluctant to talk, at first, but after Armand coaxed him a bit in that odd tongue they both spoke, he finally agreed. One of the scullery girls had brought him a tray of food and some hot tea. The fact that he was hungry, Armand told us, was yet another good sign as he carefully propped the wounded boy up in bed to eat.
"As I still have a head, I am sure that you won't kill me, sir?" Chadi asked Father, between bites.
"Well, now that we have you, what should we do with you?" Father asked him. Chadi just shrugged. "Pity, I was hoping that you'd know, boy?"
"I did not run away, sir," Chadi said, perhaps a bit too defiantly for a slave. He spoke in clipped tones, and it was clear that our language was not his native tongue.
"We know, child," Armand agreed.
"I thought you were a fever dream, or a vision from the mushrooms," Chadi told him, "A spirit come to take me into the next world." He drank his tea and went on. "My Master and I were going to his home for the Winter Celebration. I have only been there once before, it is so far away. Our unit was rotated, given a new assignment. It was a long way from the coast, and we still had far to go when the brigands set upon us." He finished his meal, and Bertrand took his tray. "Thank you. Your servant?" He asked Father.
"My son's, sort of," Father corrected him, shrugging. Chadi looked at me, then back at Father. "He's not a slave, he just likes to pretend that he is."
"You are all very strange?" Chadi wondered, taking us all in. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Because you were hurt, dying," Armand told him. "And we have no need of more riches. That is a fine collar you wear?" He paused. "The key was not found, boy."
Chadi touched his collar and sniffled. "My Master had it made a bit large. It will be years before it becomes tight enough to hurt me." Armand nodded, understanding. "We were headed for the village one day from here," Chadi continued his story, "When they came upon us. We fought them, but there were six of them – and only two of us." He paused. I got him some more tea. "You are not a eunuch?"
"Not yet," I smiled at him, as he was still clearly nervous around us.
"Do you geld Royal, I mean…you call them Noble, boys here?" Chadi seemed surprised, "Your own children?"
"Not often," Wolfram explained, "But sometimes. I am."
"You were ill, though," Bertrand reminded Wolfram, which Chadi seemed to accept.
"You would fetch a very high price at the coast, sir," Chadi nodded to him, seeming fascinated by Wolfram's light hair and pale skin.
"Thank you, I think? And it's just 'Wolfram', all right?" Wolfram smiled at him. "You'd bring even more gold, as you're… Not that we'd sell you!" Wolfram paused, blushing.
"A proper eunuch?" Chadi grinned, "I see you eunuch boys are not. He shrugged. "It was to allow me to visit women, messages and such," Chadi shrugged, "So we fought them," Chadi went on, nonplussed, "And we killed them! My Master was wounded worse than I. I tried to tend to his wounds, but one of them had struck me on the head. I passed out, and awoke to find Master carrying me through the forest."
"Your weapons bear witness to a fight," Armand nodded.
"I killed three of them," Chadi declared proudly, and we all just looked at him in disbelief. All but Armand, who seemed to believe him. "I have trained in the art of war since I could walk!"
"I have no doubt," Armand agreed, settling him back into bed. "How long have you been a Page?"
Chadi thought about it. "Sometimes, I think I remember my home. In dreams, there is sometimes a burning house and dark-skinned men. People screaming. A man with a kind, face, your color, takes me away from someone. I am frightened, but he holds me tightly and takes me away from the fighting. There are many others like him. All of them dressed in… where is my uniform?" Chadi then asked, "My pack?"
"Your clothing was nearly ruined. The girls will try to mend it," Armand told him, "The rest, we have sorted and cleaned. Nothing was taken." He took the boy's hand. "Most of the documents were ruined."
"Oh," Chadi muttered, his expression going blank for a moment. Bertrand nudged me in the ribs, as we both realized that there must have been something important about those documents.
"So you were taken as a toddler, and became a Page?" Father asked.
"My Master is all I remember," Chadi sniffled, "And sometimes, I am not sure – I remember the pain of my… I could be imagining it, sirs?"
"The pain of your gelding?" Armand nodded, "Best to not think of it. They did a very good job on you, Chadi. I have never seen a fully-cut eunuch boy as smooth and well-healed as you. It is much more common, and easy, to simply remove a boy's glands."
"EASY?" Dieter gasped, "Thanks a lot!"
"Easy for the Gelder," Bertrand mumbled.
"I don't remember, ever not being a eunuch?" Chadi said, "Thank you, sir. When I was older, Master told me that he'd paid the finest Gelder in that faraway land to work on me. His reputation is great, and he almost never loses a boy."
"You buried your Master, then?" Father asked uncomfortably, changing the subject.
"Perhaps a day from here, where the hills end?" Chadi nodded. "I am sorry if it is on your land, sir."
"I'm not concerned, child," Father waved him off. " We will notify the authorities later. What concerns me is what to do with you. We've sent word to the local Council, but it could be a year or more before word from the Military makes it back here."
"Then I will work, if you will have me, sir," Chadi nodded to Father.
"I'm not the one to ask. You owe your life to Armand here," Father replied.
Chadi looked shocked. "I was once like you," Armand told him, that odd look on his face again.
"Armand has not left your side for days," Father informed the boy, "As you are, by definition and experience, a Military man, and a brave soldier, we would open our home to you, Chadi. It is the duty of any Landowner to billet the Military in time of need."
"I am but a Page, a eunuch, and a slave," Chadi looked away, "Thank you, sir."
"Your collar can be covered to hide those symbols," Armand smiled, "And the Master does allow other slaves in the house from time to time. He is a kind man."
"You can stay with us!" I offered, "And Wolfram can probably pick the lock on that collar!"
"What will your Holiday guests think, sir?" Chadi fretted.
"Who cares?" Wolfram shrugged.
"Boy, after putting up with my son's antics," Father gave me a withering look, "Our guests can tolerate just about anything!"
And so Chadi stayed with us. Father sent a letter into the village via Eryk (on his way home) and his armed escort, but no more bandits were reported on the roads, not even by the men who had gone to Dieter's home to take his pay to his family. It was Mattias, the one who'd joked with us about sexual relations, that took me aside when he returned.
"Master Runt," he said (Eryk's pet name for me had caught on), "I can see why Deet doesn't want to go home. There isn't much to go home to. His brother will use the money to pay taxes, but he's already been beaten for being late. He was unable to sell enough crops or livestock to pay them. It will be a hard winter for them, Master. To call their home a hovel would be kind."
I started working on a plan to remedy that. After all, Dieter wasn't just another farm slave – he was my friend.
With all the Contracteds but Dieter going home for Holiday, Bertrand and I pitched in to help with the work. Just because they had time off (which was another point of gossip, Father doing that), the work still needed to be done.
Our guests came and went, and with all that happening, it was only a matter of time before one of my school peers, Paschalis, came by at the right moment to find me being unceremoniously scrubbed, collar and all, by Armand at a trough by the barn. I'd tried to catch Bertrand when he'd slipped, and we'd both gone right into the wagon full of horse manure. Paschalis thought it amusing to sniff and pull faces the rest of the evening, even though we were both cleaned and I was dressed.
"I see they've not gelded you yet?" Paschalis observed, "Pity. I think they cut the wrong brother!" He smirked at Bertrand.
Like most of the boys at school, Paschalis wasn't pleasant. Were it not the Holidays, he wouldn't have been caught dead socializing with Bertrand and me. Where Paschalis made a mistake was in trying to make sport of Chadi. I was dressed in my best purple tunic and all that itchy garb, and Chadi was wearing his repaired uniform. The girls had done an excellent job in weaving in new material and repairing his boots, and he looked like the perfect little soldier. All but for the bandage on his head, which I think Armand put there to elicit sympathy. Bertrand, of course, was naked but for his slave collar.
"For a slave, this Page certainly has a better collar than you do!" Paschalis teased me about my worker's collar.
"Chadi is no one's slave, here," I corrected him, "He is our guest, until the Military can send someone to figure out what to do with him."
"Why not just sell him?" Paschalis shrugged, "That collar alone is probably worth more than my house!"
"No doubt, sir," Chadi nodded, not trying to be insulting, but simply stating a fact. Hell, that collar was worth more than our house, I could tell you!
"That child's pretense of a uniform, I think, has you thinking above your place, Page," Paschalis retorted, "They don't give Pages medals, do they?"
"My place, sir, is defending the borders of The Empire," Chadi informed him, "Without those like me," he added in clipped tones, "You would, no doubt, have been captured by invaders long ago, gelded, and sold as a slave in the Hinterlands. As for awards, one does not display them out of hubris."
"Looks like you and your Master failed!" Paschalis laughed.
"Sir, you besmirch my honour," Chadi told him flatly.
Besmirch? That sounded bad to me, although I had no idea what it meant. You see, the problem with Chadi was that he was both a soldier (albeit a Page) and a eunuch slave boy. It was a conundrum of etiquette for some, and it seemed that Paschalis – a Noble, of course – saw Chadi as the latter. To some of the guests, that meant that Chadi had just about as many rights as a good milk cow.
"And you, mine! I think!" Paschalis told him coldly, and then slapped him, open palm, across the face.
The room went quiet.
"Did you intend to challenge me to a fight to the death, sir?" Chadi asked coldly.
"Uhm, no?" Paschalis replied, confused.
"Then next time, use your fist," Chadi advised, "But I accept your challenge, sir," Chadi replied calmly, "However, it would be foolish of you to pursue it."
"Paschalis," Wolfram hissed at him, "He killed three robbers on the way here! He'll make dog meat of you!"
"What do you know about it, Eunuch?" Paschalis snorted.
"Plenty! My cousin is in the Military!" Wolfram retorted, "And we've billeted soldiers before!"
"Bet they all liked you!" Paschalis laughed at Wolfram, not realizing the fool he was making of himself for insinuating such in front of the guests. Especially in front of ladies.
I turned around to see everyone staring at us. Father looked ill. Some of our ridiculous customs, looking back, needed changing. Yes, a Noble (regardless of age) could issue a challenge. It was a matter of honour. And if there was one thing that Chadi had, it was his honour. In fact, other than his clothing, it was ALL he had.
Father sighed. Paschalis' father looked smug, not the least bit concerned. He was a fool, I thought.
"Go and play with your ridiculous little slave and pathetic friend," Paschalis waved me off, "While I deal with your unruly guest!"
That was Paschalis and his family for you. He was too stupid to realize that by challenging Chadi, who had become everyone's darling that night, that he had lost face and a great deal of his own family's honour. By the looks we were getting, it seemed that Paschalis was the only one who didn't realize this. And there wasn't that much honour to lose. Paschalis was probably the least liked boy in school, Father didn't really want them in our house, but it was the Nobles' holiday custom to visit and make merry.
"Go and warn Armand," I hissed at Bertrand, who ran to grab his cloak and go.
"Challenge has been issued and accepted," Father declared, "Ladies need not watch," he added, as we followed the two boys to the smaller hall. I didn't even ask. There was no way, by custom, that I could stop this show.
"CHALLENGE!" Many of our guests were calling out, cheering – as if watching two boys trying to kill one another were a sport? Nobles…I could have done without the lot of them.
Chadi handed me his goblet. "This will not take long, my host," he nodded.
"Try not to kill him? We just had the floor polished?" I offered lamely, as Bertrand and I had been who'd polished it.
Paschalis was already examining his choice of weapon, a short sword well suited to a boy. Chadi just watched him, pulled off his boots and stockings, and waited. He cracked his knuckles. "I am ready, sir?" He asked, not even bothering to pick up a weapon.
"This is going to be bad," Bertrand fretted, having just returned, "I told Armand."
To be brief, it was a short fight. Paschalis laughed and took a swipe at him, which Chadi ducked. The polished floor made Paschalis slip, and made us realize why Chadi had bared his feet. Chadi swept Paschalis' legs with his own left leg, and when Paschalis rolled and came back up, Chadi dodged a poke and brought his elbow down on Paschalis' forearm, breaking it. Paschalis dropped the sword, bent over, and Chadi kicked him in the face.
Paschalis spat blood as he went down. So much for my floor.
"Yield, and I shall spare your life, sir," Chadi bowed.
"No killing!" I reminded them.
But as Chadi came back up, never taking his dark eyes off of Paschalis, Paschalis lashed out with the sword in his good hand. The blade cut a bit of Chadi's hair, and Chadi kicked Paschalis in the crotch so hard that Paschalis was lifted off his feet and thrown backward into the wall! He did not get up. He just lay there, moaning, and clutching his glands with his good hand.
"Chadi wins," Father declared, when Paschalis failed to get back up. Paschalis' father was not pleased, what with the tiny bit of honour his family still had, puddled all over the floor in his son's blood.
"Forgive me, my host," Chadi bowed to Father, "I will go now, I have shamed you."
The guests were simply staring, unsure of what to do.
"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed, as Armand stepped up.
Paschalis' father just snorted and told him, "Tend to the stupid boy, Armand. Patch him up." Armand, after all, had a reputation. Armand carried Paschalis out to work on him, and everyone was making a fuss over a confused Chadi. Money changed hands. Chadi refused to accept any, clearly ashamed of himself. We did our best to make him feel better, but all the applause when he excused himself for the night only made it worse.
I didn't want to do it, but when Father nodded to me, I caught up to Chadi, ordering him up to our chambers. That was the evening for us. The hot bath and tray of rich desserts I ordered brought up for us were just too much for him, and Chadi went from being an honourable, brave, little solider into a sobbing and lost little boy.
I left him with Wolfram and Bertrand to go and tell Father, who had just met a returning Armand at the door.
"My Lord," Armand was saying to Paschalis' father, "I have set and splinted his arm, sir. The bone did not pierce the skin, and will heal well. But his pouch is expanding alarmingly! I fear he is bleeding inside, and the pouch-skin is turning purple. Come and see, sir – quickly! – as I am afraid he will bleed to death inside!"
We all followed Armand out to the slaves' quarters, where Dieter was watching him. Paschalis was laid out naked on the worktable, and Armand was right – his pouch was grotesquely expanded, almost the size of a man's fist, and he was moaning in pain. He looked very pale and sweaty, his groin badly bruised.
"He's my only son?" Paschalis' father gasped, "How can you suggest that I allow you to…?" He couldn't say it, suddenly realizing what Armand meant.
"My Lord, you can have no grandsons later, or no son now?" Armand bowed. "If I puncture the pouch, and blood flows, we will know." Armand paused. "Forgive me, sir, but if your wife may not give you more sons, well, one can always take a fine maid to bear you…-"
Paschalis' father turned away, blushing. "I know of your skill, Armand," he conceded, interrupting, "Do what you must to save the foolish boy's life." He then turned to Father. "I apologise for the actions of my idiot child in your home, Nigel. Forgive me."
"Challenge was met?" Father just shrugged, but I could tell that it was taking all of his resolve to not laugh. Like I've said, more than one Noble boy at school could have used a good slow gelding. I couldn't wait to tell Bertrand and Wolfram, as Paschalis had been especially cruel to them ever since their own geldings.
My prickle was throbbing and hurting under my tunic. Paschalis was about to get gelded, I thought! "Serves him right!" I told myself, snickering into my sleeve, and feeling just a touch jealous. Of course, if he lived, Paschalis certainly wouldn't be happy about it. He'd have no right to tease Wolfram, though – not now. That, and their Estate would never be his. It would have to go to some future little brother, perhaps even a bastard half-brother by a handmaiden?
Armand and Dieter tied Paschalis down, and then Paschalis screamed. "What are you doing? FATHER! What's this slave doing to me?"
"Saving your miserable life, boy!"
Looking back, given his father's attitude, I'm not surprised that Paschalis was the way he was. Bad sire, bad pup, Armand always told us.
Armand made a tiny slit in Paschalis' pouch, and blood gushed. Armand wiped it up, then motioned for me. Blood continued to flow as Armand opened the pouch. I hastily gagged Paschalis, who was very pale. He screamed into the balled rag, and when Armand exposed one of his glands, the torn cord shot blood in time with his heartbeat.
"Prepare the ties, and heat an iron!" Armand snapped, and I rushed to grab one. It wasn't wet, but it would have to do. Gods, I was assisting in the gelding of a boy I hated! It was great! I was heady with the thrill of it. Never mind that it was Paschalis! Wish I was the one handling the blade!
"NO! Father, don't let them! I'm a Noble! Not my glands!" Paschalis was screaming, pulling at his bonds, having spit out his gag. I replaced it, lest he break his teeth.
"But you'll die?" Dieter told him, "Your glands? They're bleeding inside!" He added, stoking the forge and putting the cauterizing iron in to heat.
"THEN LET ME DIE!" Paschalis screamed again. I think? I'm fairly confident that such was what he was thinking.
"You got yourself into this, boy," was all his father said as he turned away.
And you could have stopped him and corrected him, before the fight? I thought.
Paschalis howled in pain as Armand pulled his pouch down, then tied it off. As soon as his pouch was tied, Paschalis' color improved. Armand picked up the small curved gelding knife, and positioned it. "Breathe in and hold it," he told Paschalis.
I couldn't resist. "Well, you're not the first boy to lose his glands here," I told him, "Felix and Menas came through it all right. If Felix can do it, so can you!"
"NO!" Paschalis just kept screaming, (I think?) until he was hoarse. I don't think he even felt it as Armand quickly cut him, sliding his bloody pouch aside and reaching for the hot iron.
The smell of burning meat filled the room, and Paschalis screamed one last time. He arched his back in his bonds, pouring sweat. Then he fainted. I nearly did, too, with what came over me, watching him being cut!
Armand looked him over again, then examined his glands. "Here," he pointed, showing Father the torn cord where the bleeding had been. "Surely he would have been dead before morning," Armand nodded, "And the other gland is badly ruptured."
"Sir?" I cut in, "Chadi is…"
"Not to blame," Father cut me off, "Paschalis had no place challenging a Military Page. He was a fool."
"He certainly is," Paschalis' father agreed, "Now he's a gelded fool! Damn, as if he hadn't shamed me enough! Poor little Wolfram was so ill, I understood his need of …and … I know Paschalis teased him and the others at school," he turned to me.
"Sir, it might do Paschalis some good," I nodded, "I know many eunuchs, sir, and they're all quite pleasant."
"Perhaps the monks will take him?" Paschalis' father wondered, shrugging, "Or I could sell him?"
We all just looked at him. It was clear that he was not only ashamed of, but now disgusted, by the sight of his gelded son. It made me sick to my stomach.
"Tend to him, I'll send a slave to fetch him when he's well. Let me know the cost," was all he said as he went back inside to fetch his wife and leave. I caught the look that the slave tending his coach gave him.
"I don't blame you," I whispered to them, as I walked by their slaves. I heard one of them suppress a laugh. I guess the family slaves didn't like Paschalis, either? Gods, that could have been me, I realized, any time in the years past. Me, if I hadn't decided to do what I'd done. Then again, I wanted our slaves to like me. Paschalis more than likely didn't care. Surely he would now?
"I will tend to him. Is young Chadi well, sir?" Armand asked.
"He's good, sir," I smiled back at him, "Just upset."
"You stay with him, child," Armand smoothed my hair. He didn't say any more. He didn't have to.
*
Paschalis' father didn't send anyone for him that week, and of course, there was no chance on word about Chadi. That would take time. The Page had gotten depressed, though, and nothing seemed to cheer him up. He even went to the guest room, where Father had moved Paschalis, and begged his forgiveness. Paschalis refused to look at him, but he certainly didn't insult him again! To add insult to injury, Father assigned Dieter to look after our unwanted guest. I was sure that having a naked eunuch take care of him unnerved Paschalis, knowing that such was how he would look once his bandages came off in the future.
Just a lonely little prickle, with nothing below it but a circular scar.
It made my own prickle stiff, and got me so heady that it would almost make me feel as if I were about to wet myself, faint, or both! I'd just seen one of my classmates gelded, and even assisted in his gelding. And one of the nastier classmates at that! I couldn't have been more delighted. Well, perhaps at that time, I could have been – had it been me tied down to that table? Keep in mind that I was still at that phase where I truly believed that gelding was a great idea. Never mind the reaction that I'd just seen from Paschalis' father, the way Wolfram's family had treated him, and how Wolfram felt about his own being a eunuch. "I'd just as soon they'd left me in one piece, to see if I'd gotten better." Paschalis' gelding had certainly put me in the holiday spirit!
Paschalis? Not so much, no.
With hardly two weeks left to the big day, and still a few other families to make artificial merriment with, I asked Father if I could go into the village, with armed escort, of course.
"For what?" He asked.
"Bertrand's gift," I shrugged, "What else? There's not a Gelding Day this month? Not until spring, sir."
"You're up to something!" Father accused me, "First you wanted good document paper, a good quill, and the best ink, and you spend every evening with Armand and the slaves writing – what? A new book? Your memoirs?" He joked. "How much money do you have?"
"Enough coppers and silvers to convert to two full golds," I told him. I lied. I had more.
"What are you getting Bertie, a new house?" Father joked, but I wouldn't tell him. It was my money. I saved what I earned or found, or "borrowed". Now and then, someone loses a coin on the road, you know. That, and I hadn't told him what I'd found while digging up the new pond. I went and fetched the ugly rock, which I'd cleaned up. The good end was translucent red, and it was as large as both my fists. Father nearly fainted at the sight of the ruby. "I looked all day, there weren't any more, sir."
Father gave me three gold coins. I knew the ruby was worth a small fortune, but into the vault it went.
Bertrand knew what I was doing, of course. His not being allowed to go gave it away. Still, he was glad that I thought to get him something. Father still had his big surprise coming.
"Boy, you will be the death of me yet," Armand fretted, as he'd been helping me with it. Well, he and John, my Instructor from school. They were both in on it, and John was as excited about it as I was. I just hoped it worked. So, with Bertrand and Dieter to keep Chadi company, I sought out Wolfram next. Poor boy still didn't get out much, you know, and I needed him.
In town and with guard, we stopped by Eryk's livery to see him and his family. I was pleased to meet them, and noted that Eryk seemed happy about something. He also walked a bit strangely, and I knew what he'd been up to! "Every night!" He laughed, when I gave him his small gift. Wolfram, it turned out, had one for him, too. In fact, he had one for each of us. I wondered what they were?
My shopping was not that complex, though. I had one destination in mind, and that was the clothier. I ordered a formal tunic, full dress style, in deep green with gray trim. So long as it was not purple or maroon with gold trim, and made from Common fabric, it was all right. That, and the cut of the tunic had to be a touch shorter. I had them measure me, cutting it a bit larger to allow for growth. I ordered brown breeches and undershirt, with gray and brown belt. The full works, including a matching brown beret like my purple one.
"Dressing down, Master Andreas, sir?" The clothier asked me, as he measured and squeezed me here and there, had me stretch, measured again, and asked for my old measurements from the previous year. "One suit or two, sir?" I ordered two. Then I ordered a pair of leather half boots, like mine, in a size larger. I also ordered thicker stockings to go with them.
"It's not for me, my good man," I replied. "It's a gift." Thank all that Wolfram was browsing on the other side of the room, and he was about my size. I nodded at him. It gave me the perfect excuse.
"I see!" The dirty-minded old fool grinned, leering at Wolfram. "He is rather lovely, if I may, sir? Part Barbarian, no? That blond hair? Isn't he," he leaned to whisper in my ear, "A eunuch?"
"Yes," I agreed.
"Lovely boy!" The clothier sighed, and the look on his face made me understand what Eryk had been explaining to us about men who fancied eunuch boys.
Bertrand was lovely, in my eyes though.
With any luck, my plan might just put Grandmother in the cemetery!
Clothing, boots, cloaks, and even a dormant stock of rose roots for Mother's garden. I even picked up a small dagger for Elise, or rather, Ephraim, as she was still masquerading as a boy. I shopped until all my gold pieces were reduced to a smattering of coppers and small silvers. I sent my guards to the cafe, where they could claim it was for me, when it was for them. I got myself and Wolfram snacks as well. So there it was, a whole year's savings – gone.
And it was worth it.
As another custom, there was always an extra place set at a Noble table in case of an unexpected guest. This year, I intended to fill it. I stopped to see the Magistrate, brazen as that was, and asked him to come for dinner on the big day. Magistrate Ignatius, so he liked to called, was one of those uncommon Noble eunuchs. He claimed to have had the rare gland fever as a young boy. I suppose he could just as easily have been kicked by his pony, or bitten by a goose? Either way, he accepted my offer. It was our place, after all!
"Does your father know, boy?" He asked me.
"No, sir!" I smiled deviously at him, "It's a surprise! Just bring your stamp, sir?"
"Are we going to regret this?" he asked hopefully, his eyes twinkling.
You must keep in mind that he was the one who'd almost convicted me some time before, over my friend's gelding when the horse had kicked him. Remember? Probably one of the few eunuch boys about who really had been kicked by his horse?
"I'm certain of it, sir!"
*
With my loot hidden in the cellar of the barn, with only Armand knowing about it all, I returned to the house to find nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was still chaotic. Chadi was still depressed. Grandmother was still nasty, ordering everyone about. Paschalis was still in bed. That one was a surprise, in that no one had called for him. Perhaps they were afraid to move him? My Instructor was off visiting someone else, and it was our night to go to Wolfram's old Estate.
I might have forgotten to mention, that after all that unpleasantness with his father that had led to our adopting him, the Estate had been seized by his grandparents. The side of the family that still liked him, that is.
"You must come along," Wolfram told Chadi, who would just as soon have stayed with Armand.
"Why, sir?" Chadi asked, and Wolfram asked him for probably the hundredth time to not call him 'sir'.
"Because I want all my friends there! You know what it's like, having to attend a party, full of people you don't like?" Wolfram asked.
Chadi raised his eyebrows and nodded seriously. "But you live here?"
"It's complicated," I explained, "Suffice it to say, we took Wolfram from his family. They're about as honourable as Paschalis' family is, maybe a bit less these days."
"Well, this is the first time I've ever had real friends for the Winter Celebration! Now just imagine a party where everyone is Paschalis, all right?" Wolfram added, and Chadi pulled a face. He finally agreed to come, and of course, Wolfram's grandparents fussed all over us all evening long. It was clear that Chadi didn't like it, though, and being asked about his duties in the Military was hurting him. He was missing his Master terribly, and there was nothing that any of us could do to make the hurt stop.
"Gelding was the worst I ever hurt," Wolfram sighed, "And even then, it goes away."
"I don't think it will," Dieter shrugged. Wolfram had begged him to come too, telling his parents that Chadi needed all the friends around him that he could get. And of course, they were still enamored with Bertrand. "I miss my parents." It was the first that Dieter had ever spoken of them, but none of us could say it. Finally, Dieter did.
"Father just fell over in the field one day, and Mother pined for him all summer. She died right before the celebration. Didn't have much that year, though. Not like she missed it. Bub had me cut that next spring, and sent me to every Gelding Day since trying to find an apprenticeship. Thank you," he looked at me, tears in his eyes. "Bub was afraid he'd have to sell me as a slave boy, you know. He could have got a lot for me, being a young eunuch."
I couldn't stand it. If only Father could have heard him? Now do you see why I so hated being treated like a pampered little prince?
"I miss Master," Chadi sniffled. "Even grown men cry when a battle is done, and ones you loved are fallen," he added.
"What?" I had to ask, given the look on his face.
"I think I am…starting to worry that the Legion will come and take me away from here," Chadi hung his head, "I do not believe that I… want to go back?" He touched a star-shaped gold emblem on his breast. A decoration, which he only put on the uniform for formal occasions. It wasn't the only decoration, either.
"This child has seen things that no child should see," Armand had told me, when I'd asked what the decorations meant.
Wolfram knew what it was, though. "You're more decorated than my cousin! I know what THAT is!" He gasped, having just noticed it, "How does a Page boy win THAT?"
"What is it?" Bertrand wondered.
"Only the Emperor's Star of Valor!" Wolfram breathed, his fingers trembling as he touched it.
"I was sent on a mission to rescue a hundred Royal boys, you would call them Nobles here, from the Island Nation/Province," Chadi explained. We knew where that was on the map, from school. It was the outermost part of the Empire, bordering the Hinterlands. Actually, The Big Island, as some called it, was its own Nation. They just allied with ours and we worked together. "Master had me placed as bait at their school, when our intelligence operatives got word of a raid. And sure enough, the pirates came and took me, too. He followed us, and got word to the Legion. He'd hidden a tool to break the manacles, up my bottom, and when I was loose, I found a sword and began killing my way to freedom for us. The other boys helped, too, you see, but being Royals, they could never have escaped on their own. Then we sabotaged their ship, set fire to the hold, it began to sink, and when the Captain and his men stormed our ship, I jumped in front of my Legion Commander and took an arrow for him." Chadi's eyes went distant. "And then I ran the pirate Captain through!"
We all just sat in awe of Chadi's tale of wonder. As he told it, we could almost smell the salt air and feel the floor rocking as a boat's deck. He went on and on, and I wished that I had written it down, or had some way to preserve his voice. Still, it seemed to wrong to hear a child's voice telling such a grisly tale. Such a voice could have been singing in a great hall, or simply telling his family at the dinner table about his day at school.
"But in the end, you see, I had a flat iron cooking tray under my shirt, when he stabbed at me," Chadi confessed, and he smiled for the first time since he'd come to us. "The captured pirates who had been stealing boys to geld and sell were finished, and that part of the sea secured. We then departed for the Capital city, after we executed the pirates. Of course, the Royal Families of the Island were so grateful, that they sent the Ambassador with us to see the Emperor, and to…-"
"You met the Emperor?!" We all gasped.
Chadi nodded, as if this were nothing unusual. "Who do you think gave me the star?"
"And here you are!" Bertrand smiled at him.
"You're really difficult to buy a gift for," I told him.
"My Master rests on your land, and you all saved me," Chadi nodded, "That is all the gifts I need."
And since we'd talked late into the night, after a hot bath, we went to bed. If anyone else noticed that the second bed in Wolfram's room was freshly constructed, nothing was said. Chadi insisted on standing guard at the door, even though he was yawning. He protested being put to bed, but the brave warrior was swiftly defeated by Miss Morgana!
*
I suppose we should just get right to it. The bru-ha-ha that was Winter Celebration Morning in my house. It was my twelfth one, and I made it memorable, with my plans coming together.
We'd returned home upon the Eve, but not before receiving gifts from Wolfram. He'd made us all, Chadi included, a woven leather wrist cuff with the High Script pictograph for the word "friend" embroidered into each. It must have taken him months. He'd even dropped one off for Eryk when we'd gone to the village to shop. I still have mine.
Just so you know, I was glad to see that Paschalis had gone home. I supposed that Armand had finally given him the 'all right' to get up and travel. Good riddance! Still, it would be interesting to see what would happen to him. It wouldn't have surprised me a bit if his father had packed him off to the monks. He didn't, but that's another story.
That morning, we were awakened by Chadi. He was dressed, as he always was, in his uniform. It had turned quite chilly overnight, and I daringly made Bertrand put on one of my spare gowns. You know what we'd have done, had it been warmer? I wondered if Chadi had slept at all? I did notice Wolfram's cuff on his left wrist, though.
The house was slowly warming, and to my surprise, the windows were frosted. Even with stockings on, the floors felt cold. Fires were blazing in all the fireplaces, and the household help scurried here and there, putting out breakfast, and still preparing for the feast that night. The Great Room was aglow with candles, and the decorations shining. I still think it was the largest tree that Father had ever selected. I had to wonder if pandemonium had broken out in the slaves' quarters yet?
It was Father's custom to replace the slaves' aprons and boots for Winter Celebration, but for a whole large gold coin, I'd intercepted his order in town and had the boots lined. I'd also procured a modest box of sweets for Armand.
I was still hatching my plan for Father's surprise, and all I needed was for Magistrate Ignatius to arrive.
Of course, being the only offspring of the household, the gifts were all for me. The adults exchanged their own, but this season was mainly for children.
Most children.
This year, it wasn't all about me. It was going to be for Bertrand as well.
Finally.
Boxes and such were shoved my way, and I shoved them aside. Bertrand organised them into a nice stack. When Father picked up the large green box, he froze. The name on it was BERTRAND. As usual, no one had even thought of him.
"Who did this?" Father wondered, seeming annoyed, and glaring at me. He knew I'd share what I had, but that wasn't enough. Not anymore. Not after the hint he'd given us that night in the slaves' quarters. Not when he'd slipped up with that one little three-letter word he's used while bathing Bertrand.
"There's a gift for me?" Bertrand wondered, awed, as he opened the large box to reveal two sets of fine clothes in green and brown, right down to the boots. "Commoner garb", they called it, but still well-made of good material. Had it been maroon or purple and gold, a Noble boy would have worn it.
The room was very still.
I could see Grandmother fuming. Father was perplexed as Bertrand pulled out an envelope of documents from the box. Father recognized them, and I think he knew then and there that he was about to be had. They were written in High Script, but, Bertrand was reading them. I had, in effect, just condemned the whole family if any of them made a fuss over my plan. Slaves were not allowed to learn those letters, under no circumstances.
Father snatched the papers. "What's the meaning of this, boy?" He demanded of me. Never mind my Instructor, John, watching the whole thing.
"You both can read and write the High Script?" John seemed mightily impressed.
"It's Bertrand's gift, Father," I answered him, "I want to emancipate him, and legally adopt him. All you have to do is stamp the documents with the seal. I've already validated them with the Magistrate, as Bertrand has been, and still is, legally, my slave."
Father had already signed them, thinking they were school documents.
Yes, I'd lied to him some months before. And I had no guilt over it. I loved Bertrand, and they'd abused him long enough.
Mother gasped. Grandmother dropped her cup, shattering it all over the floor. She was livid. In fact, she came over and found the gift she'd gotten me and tossed it into the fire! I couldn't' have cared less. In the meantime, Bertrand was getting dressed. She screeched at him, went for him, but Chadi stopped her.
"I am sorry, Madame, but I am under orders. If you touch that boy, I will have to kill you," Chadi informed her.
Lucky for her, she believed him. Father just gaped. But he remained silent.
I had him, and he knew it. Grandmother just stood there, shocked. When she finally found her tongue again, she began to insult Bertrand, his 'whore of a mother', and his unfortunate accident of birth. Well experienced in the art, Bertrand and I ignored her as he finished dressing.
"It's very becoming, sir," Chadi observed, having stood there quietly by the fire the whole time.
Grandmother began to rant again. She made to grab up Bertrand's hat, but I stopped Chadi before he could stop her. No way was she burning that!
"If you think we'll just sit here and let that filthy little animal continue to wear your clothes, take your gifts, and to act as if he…"
"Mother?" Father cut her off.
"Yes?"
"Shut your mouth before I let Chadi chop your head off!" Father shouted at her, "Remember your place, Woman!"
I then shoved a document in her face. She read it and dropped it, pale and shaking.
The old bat then clutched her chest in shock and fell over, stone dead!
It was the best present I could have asked for!
Well, at that time, other than one. I didn't think it was the right time to ask about gelding me.
Chadi looked shocked. Father was angry now. "You tricked me!" He accused me, as I fetched the precious papers back.
"No, sir. I lied to and deceived you, stole this, and forged those documents, sir!" Hey, I was only being honest – for once.
"They're invalid without the Magistrate's signature and seal!" Father smirked at me.
The bells rang.
Miss Morgana escorted the Magistrate in and introduced him.
"What? Signature? Where?" He snatched up the documents. "AH! Foundling, is it? Nigel, you are too good a man! Hello, Young Page," he greeted Chadi, then us boys. He went back to reading. And before Father could stop him, Magistrate Ignatius signed and sealed the documents. "Taking in a foundling, caring for young Chadi there, rescuing Young Wolfram, all the boys you sponsor and employ…" he went on.
Bertrand was free.
Bertrand was my brother.
Finally.
Having sneaked it down under my gown, I threw Bertrand's slave collar into the fire. In the bottom of his box of clothing was a new one, stamped WORKER. Just like mine.
All the household help and my parents just sat and stared.
It was finally fair.
"Did I say something?" The Magistrate wondered, and us boys collapsed in laughter.
Father was angry, however. I could see it.
But what could he do? Geld me? Make me a slave? Did he really want the whole world to know the truth?
Then the Magistrate noticed Grandmother. The girls called for someone to come and deal with her.
"Well, she was very old," Magistrate Ignatius observed. I think the old man was sliding into his dotage, really?
"You – you – you …!" Father pointed at me.
"Don't make me, sir," I warned him.
Father froze.
He knew that I knew. I'd seen the documents in his desk when I'd asked for the good paper for schoolwork. I'd had to know, and Wolfram knew how to pick locks. He looked around again, as Miss Morgana – the only woman to ever have whipped me – moved in behind me and Bertrand. She put her hands on our shoulders and glared back at Father.
She said nothing at all.
"This isn't over, boy," Father warned me. Mother was still sitting there, studying her rosebush roots. My own gifts sat unopened.
"Yes, sir, it is," I sassed him. "It's fair. Almost."
"It's fair," Father finally admitted, turning away, "I'm sorry, Bertie. Congratulations."
But he didn't add that one three-letter word. Actually, he never would again – "Son".
From that day forward, I was 'Andreas', sometimes 'Andy'.
But never 'son'.
And that was fine by me.
As it sank in, while Bertrand was staring at himself in the mirror, he sniffled. He put his hat on and felt at his neck where there was no slave collar. He started to cry. I held him for a long time, my brother. Just as I'd always known he was. As no one else would admit.
As no one else could admit.
I'd known it in all certainty when I'd dressed him up on our ninth birthday. All the boys at school thought it. We'd overheard adults gossip about it in whispers. We could have been twins.
We were twins.
We just weren't the kind that looked exactly alike.
My mother would go to her grave not knowing the truth, although I think she suspected it. Remember when I mentioned that Father might get more children with the household help, or some concubines, like Wolfram's father did? Remember how she was open to that idea, even though she was pregnant with the child that would turn out to be my baby brother some months later?
When I'd seen documents marked BERTRAND in that file marked THE BOYS, when Father had given me the paper and ink I wanted, I was curious. I knew how to get into the treasury, and I knew how to get into his office. Something about the documents pertaining to Bertrand's being bought as a child slave didn't seem right to me, so I'd taken the documents to Armand. I'd needed a bit of help then with High Script, but Armand had read it. Don't ask me where he learned it. He hadn't known about us, either, and no other boy at school had his own same-age slave to grow up with.
Bertrand wasn't bought at the slave market. Bertrand had been born here. On the same day as I.
To the same woman.
Just not to the woman whom I called "Mother".
The ugly truth of the whole matter had been locked in a lower drawer of Father's desk. With Wolfram's help, as he'd picked the lock, I'd found that truth. I suppose that explains my increasing unruly behaviour, as I simply could no longer live with the secret. I could no longer live with how my brother was being treated. That night we'd had a bath in the barn after digging the pond had done it. I'd known I had to act.
The documents were records of a Commoner lady having been delivered of twin boys. They recorded a large sum of gold coin paid to this woman, with travel plans, who had left the Province for the duration of her pregnancy. They also recorded the natural birth, on the same day, of Mother and Father's daughter, who had been stillborn. Bertrand and I had come a bit early, and my dead sister had been replaced with me by a bribed Midwife. I was the Noble Son, by pure luck of the grab. Perhaps that was why Mother, who had been hysterical for her child when she had heard no crying, never took much interest in my rearing? Perhaps she somehow knew that I was not her son? Perhaps Grandmother even knew, which would explain why she was so vicious to Bertrand, and demanding of me?
And by pure bad luck, Bertrand had become the slave boy, lived in my shadow, and had even been gelded.
It was all so unfair.
Why had Father done this, you ask? Remember my dead Grandfather? He had been alive when we were born, and from the tales I'd been told, he'd been quite the stoic man. I think he'd have disowned Father for getting a Commoner girl with child. Perhaps Grandmother only tolerated me, as I had been the one chosen to be the required Heir?
According to our laws, a child born of a Noble and "anyone else" is considered Noble if the child is taken in by said Noble. If not, the child is of the class that does take it in. Bertrand was Father's son. My brother. He'd been taken in, but he'd been illegally recorded on forged documents as a slave boy some years later. He'd been illegally gelded, as a Noble boy, with no pressing medical need of it. And all to save face for Father.
In short, Father was in a world of disaster, should I have chosen to tell the Magistrate the whole story. The Estate would automatically go to me, Armand could be made (by me) my Regent, and Father would have been a head shorter.
And on that Winter Celebration Morning, Father knew it. He also knew that, somewhere deep in Magistrate Ignatius' office files, were those same (real) birth records. The Magistrate simply took it all in, smiling at Miss Morgana.
He knew!
"Well, Andreas, you promised us a good time!" The old man laughed.
Father got up and left the room without a word.
"MUST you follow me?" We heard him shout at Chadi.
"I am a Page, sir. This is what Pages do?"
"Well, go and page with someone else!"
It was funny, despite what I'd done. There was no danger of retribution from Father, either. He had too much to lose.
I just hoped I hadn't lost him.
Gifts sat there by the tree, unopened. I was a bit sad, as Father loved the holidays. I might have just ruined them for him for all years to come.
"Have at them!" I told Bertrand, jerking a thumb at the gifts, "I think I'll go dress!"
Bertrand opened all of the gifts that morning, save for the ones he put aside for Chadi, Eryk, and Dieter. Mother said we complimented one another, he in green and brown, and I in maroon and gold. We'd have breakfast later, and sit together, fill our own plates, and eat together. Father wasn't happy, but I think he understood. He didn't scold me, and he certainly didn't punish Bertrand.
But it still didn't make up for all those times Bertrand had been whipped, excluded, humiliated, and ignored.
I think he'd forgiven us, when he and Chadi joined us to practice with our new small crossbows. At least, Father didn't shoot us.
The uncles, aunts, and cousins who began arriving before lunch were surprised to find that Grandmother had died. Some of them were upset. Some weren't. They all approved of Bertrand, too, which was amazing. The big news of the family was that Uncle Theo, on Father's side, was considering having his eight year old son, Theodotus II, gelded for a career in music. Little Theodotus had a long talk with Bertrand about it, who was the center of attention in that he was now no longer a slave. There was, of course, some controversy about little Theo's pending gelding.
"But it's all the rage in the city," John reminded everyone. "Why, did you know, that some Noble families with several sons have several of them done? Why, there was one man I met, seven sons! And five of them gelded to sing for…" He launched into the story.
Relatives. What can one do? Tolerate them. They go away eventually.
What more is there to say? It was a good day for us. Poor Wolfram, though. He'd had no idea that Bertrand and I were really brothers, and the news had him so overcome that he nearly went into happy hysteria over it. That was the kind of boy he was, after all. He was also delighted to meet the cousins (far too many of them), and also had a long talk with little Theo. Both the Magistrate and John agreed that Theo had the voice of an angel, when the boy sang that night. He was gelded not long thereafter, and sent to a choir school in the City. He's the Choirmaster now, and sends all of his boys to me for their geldings.
And Chadi? He fit right in, and the family was impressed with him. It wasn't every day that you meet a Eunuch Page honoured by the Emperor himself. We let Father be shocked on that one. It sweetened his disposition, too, so I guess that all worked out.
"Are you sure your father won't try and assassinate you now?" Chadi wondered, when we told him the story of our births.
It's sometimes the small things that can mean the most, and all day long, I'd catch Chadi rubbing the leather cuff that Wolfram had made for him. Despite his claim of not wanting gifts, I'd known which one of mine contained the rare sweets made of even rarer brown beans that grew far across the Western Sea. Mixed with honey, they made a sweet brown paste that was one of those once-a-year treats that only Nobles could procure. Every year, Mother would find me a box of dried fruits covered in that somewhat bitter "cacao paste". Chadi knew what it was, but had never had it in the Military. That, and for the time being, he had a home.
That next day, a locally stationed soldier arrived with papers ordering the indefinite billeting of Chadi until the Commander of his unit could be found and his Legion reassembled for reassignment when their leave was finished. He wasn't going anywhere soon.
"Oh, I'm sure this will have to go all the way to the Emperor's Court?" The soldier had smiled, upon taking his leave of Father, "You could be stuck with the boy for a long while, sir?"
"You mean that no one wants him back?" Father had asked.
"Oh, he's wanted, sir, he's just better off here, and the Magistrate is quite upset," The soldier had replied cryptically. (Yes, that's another long story for another day.)
We then took Armand that next morning, and armed as we were, galloped out on fast horses to where we'd found Chadi. He led the way, and we made a day trip of it.
He laid a wreath of holly and evergreen on his Master's grave, and we gave him his dignity as he wept. Armand promised him a grave marker, and I promised him that his Master would rest there for as long as my family owned the Estate. We made it back home just in time for dinner.
That night, Chadi fell asleep in the bath with us. It was, surprisingly, Father who dried him and put him to bed. While Chadi's wounds were healed, there would always be scars. On all of us, I think. After the trip, it was good to be back in our own beds.
The Holidays were over.
"Goodnight, boys," Father told us, after having returned from Chadi's and Wolfram's shared room some time later. He tucked us in, together in my bed, kissed us goodnight, and then blew out the lamps. He paused at the door. "You've honoured your House, Andreas."
And then we were alone.
"Brother?" Bertrand tried the word for the first time, "I love you." He kissed me. I returned it, and pulled him close. It would be a cold night, we knew, despite our blankets and fireplace. We cuddled for warmth. I hugged him, feeling the smooth spot below his soft prickle. That empty spot where his glands should have been. He gasped, and I felt his small prickle twitch. He then touched mine, which was stiff. We both laughed.
"Yours is growing, I think. Mine isn't," Bertrand sighed.
"Brother? I'm so sorry." And I genuinely was. I wanted to explain it all to him, how I'd discovered the truth about our births. Then again, Bertrand was always the smart one. He'd read the documents with me. I was sure that he'd already figured it out, and so frightened that he'd someday hate me for being the brother who'd been randomly chosen as the Heir.
"Bertie, I want you to know that if…" I whispered.
But my brother had fallen asleep.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Boy Stories