"Of Princes And Slaves"
Part 4
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

 

- Prince Nekhem (Orlando) -

In my dreams, he did not despise me.
There, untouched by the games the gods might act out with our lives, we were just us, two men, two lovers.
I could feel his dark skin underneath my hands, feel the rhythmic beat of his heart, the passionate breath in his chest. Making love to him was so primal, so absolute.
Our bodies moving in perfect unison, my hands grabbing his dark curls for hold, for I feared to dissolve into pure desire were I not to hold anything to anchor me here, to him.
He welcomed me just as much as I desired him, and though all around us was void, loving him was like holding the whole world within my heart.
Perfect, pure, mutual.

But where did all this blood come from?

--

Grunting with sudden startlement, I jolted awake, out of my dreams, back into the waking world.

Confusing images hunted each other in my sleepy mind, pictures of my barbarian slave's strong body, of making love to him. Yet also I remembered glimpses of his face in pain, in loathing.
Blood on his hand where he had bitten himself not to cry out in shame.

I turned around without bothering to open my eyes, my still clumsy hands searching for the body that had been in this bed with me when I fell asleep last night, but they only found empty, tangled linens.

Blood on his hands...

Slowly, I realized that even though I had been dreaming these images, all this had none the less happened last night, here in my bed.
Anger and confusion welled up in me again, mixed with a shame I had never thought I would feel in my life.

Why had he come to me last night, waiting in front of my bed, offering himself if he did not want to be taken? Why did he hurt himself so much, and consequentially me as well?
And why did I bother at all about the mad notions of honor of a slave of mine?

Opening my eyes, I sat up in my bed, pouting in angry annoyance. And yes, I was angry, both at him for being such an unwieldy subject and me for caring about it.
I could almost hear the exasperated fits of the priests of Osiris when they heard of my care for a simple, pagan slave. What an outcry that would be.
But luckily, thanks to all the gods, I would never be Pharaoh. I would never be obliged to turn into the living embodiment of stern and somber Osiris, never be forced by tradition to act like an arrogant, autocratic, emotionally crippled, heartless bastard.

Sighing, I closed my eyes again, uttering a silent prayer of apology for the most inappropriate insults I had just thought. This day seemed not to start on such a good note.
Whatever I might think of the emotional and personal habits of the followers of Osiris, their impartiality and wisdom were just what was necessary and expected of a ruler, and even I knew in my heart that just as The Lord God ruled apart from his brethren in the underworld, whoever took the burden of Egypt onto his shoulder would have to become just as distanced and personally uninvolved to run this immense realm with any skill.

Once again, I prayed for my brother prolonged health and wisdom, hoping no ill would befall him before he had had the time to sire a son of his own to follow him.

A silent rustle of cloth at the other side of the room made me look up from my brooding, but instead of the dusky desert slave I had hoped to see, just two of my body-servants were kneeling at the other side of my pool, waiting for me to refresh and allow them to dress me.

A quick look around confirmed my fears: my handsome desert warrior was nowhere to be seen.
Had he tried to flee? I hoped he had more wits than that.

In complete and deliberate ignorance of tradition, I merely wrapped myself into the soft linen sheet I used as a blanket during the night and stepped down to my servants, neither bathing nor showing any interest in getting dressed.

"Where is my slave?", I asked, my voice somewhat sterner than I had intended to.

The servants exchanged a silent look, bowed deep onto the ground and started to mutter apologies.

"Please forgive us, your Highness, we do not know where to find the barbarian nor have we seen him leave. My Prince, please show pity for a humble slave that failed you in such simple a matter."

Was everybody going complicated these days?

"I have no intend at all to punish you", I said, still wondering why suddenly all slaves seemed to act weird. "I just want to know where this madman of a slave has gone, and I want to know NOW."

With a slightly irritated look at the two slaves groveling at my feet, I said:

"One of you, go fetch the captain of my guard. He'll know what to do. The other one: help me dress."

---

Of all the places my mad slave could have gone to - why did he have to choose a place one could only reach by climbing the oldest and least trustworthy ladder in all Theben?

"He's on the roof", Senem-Nef, the captain of my personal guard, had answered when I inquired about the whereabouts of my new slave.

When my face showed no sign of understanding, the huge Nubian warrior had not hidden his amazement when he added:

"He walked into the training-yard and climbed up the wall, my Prince. Like a lizard, my men say, no rope or ladder at all. If I hadn't been there myself, I would not believe it."

"Like a lizard?", I had asked in mocking disbelief, but Senem-Nef only nodded in confirmation. "Well, then Bastet surely must have gifted this pagan more than one might think at the first look."

"Maybe the goddess of magic, my Prince, yes. But maybe Seth or some other deity too sinister and nefarious that we knew of it."

Of course my captain saw monsters and threats everywhere. But I was rather sure that it was not the mad rage of Seth or some other vile god I felt in the heart of my desert warrior. I just did not know yet which of the decent gods it was.

So I had come here into the training-yard to see what my slave did up on the roof of the royal palace in Theben. But though it was quite possible to climb the slightly slanted outer walls of the palace for a simple human being without the magic ability to turn into a lizard, it would have been quite a challenge for me to do so. And a quite dangerous at that, for the walls went up some fourty feet before reaching the roof.
Senem-Nef was most disinclined to let me go up there, even after we had found a ladder long enough to reach to wall's crest.

"I'll go up there personally and bring this impertinent bastard down for you, your Highness. And I'll give him a fine lashing on top for endangering my Prince", he had growled.

"Please, Senem-Nef. My slave is free to go where he wants to within this palace, and that I want to go up there and talk with him is but for my own, personal vanity. I will go up there, and if I fall, you can use the lash on me for my own stupidity."

Still all but convinced, Senem-Nef gave in, only overruled by my superior rank, not by my argumentation.

So I climbed up the creaking ladder, and already halfway up the wall I wished I had decided to stay down in the yard and have some guards fetch my slave.
By Ptah, this was high.
Not as high as the new Temple of Nut I had been allowed to plan and was now busy checking on its construction. But there I had ensured reasonable ladders and stairs to be build, not ancient and flimsy constructions as the one I was using now.

But with almost all my guards watching below in the yard and quite a share of the Pharaoh's guard as well, I had hardly any chance to return without harming my reputation forever.

Bloody slave. Why of all places had it to be the god-forsaken roof of the palace?

But as soon as I could peek over the crest of the wall, I knew why.

Being the highest building in the whole quarter of the city, this part of the palace overlooked not only the whole center of Theben, but also the green, fertile land along Father Nile on one side.
And the golden, immobile waves of the desert on the other.

I found my slave sitting on the rim of the roof, his legs dangling over the edge, facing the desert, his long curls flying in the soft, hot breeze that came in from the dunes.

Scrambling over the ledge, I could almost feel the relief of the soldiers in the yard, and while walking over the whole place towards my unruly slave, I noted with a part of my mind what my builder's mind told me.

The huge stone slabs that formed the roof of the palace were still perfectly in order, smooth and unbroken, yet the years had delivered fine, red sand from the desert onto the roof, and at some places the first, tiny dunes started to build up.
I made a mental note that I had to send someone up here to clean the sand away before its weight would turn too much for the columns underneath to support.

When I neared my desert warrior, I noted a familiar gray shape next to him, and with quite a flare of envy I noted that he had taken my turtle Tiye up here with him. The way my three-legged pet cuddled close to him did naught to calm my temper, and I was close to blurting out something blatantly foolish when I realized how much he must despise the company of my people if he chose such a solitary place to be. And that he preferred my grumpy pet's company over mine was an insult that took me quite some moments to digest.

Yet, I managed to stay calm and tried for something more intelligent to say than merely 'What are you doing here?' It was quite obvious that he was here to be alone, for he must be feeling homesick, mutilated, utterly fallen from whatever grace he had believed himself in to be before.

There was quite a lot I should have said, far more even that I could have said, most of it meaningless and complicated rubbish. I knew what I wanted to say, knew that it was necessary and the only right thing to do. But it also was one of the hardest things I had to do in my whole life, and suddenly, I was more than happy for his choice of retreat, for I would have shamed my name beyond redemption if anyone would have overheard what I said instead of a greeting:

"I am sorry about last night."

He looked up, and for the first time, I saw something like acknowledgment in his dark eyes. His simple nod, greeting and acceptance of my apology at the same time, would have been an insult from anybody else in the realm, from him, it felt like a gift.

You're making an utter fool of yourself, I chided me silently. Why are you doing this?

My slave turned away again, his dark curls still blowing in the breeze, and suddenly, I found myself again at a loss of what to say.

"Why did you come to me, last night, when it shamed you so much?", I finally asked.

Without turning around, he said:

"Wasn't it that you took me for, Princeling?"

It hurt to feel his disgust in his voice, to hear how much he loathed me. I would have dearly been given a chance to make him see that I was not the demon-worshipping tyrant he took me for.

"Yes, exactly that", I pressed out, angry at myself for the weakness he made me confess in every sentence I spoke to him. "But not this way, not for this price."

He turned around to face me again, then, his beautiful, dark eyes unreadable, his jaws set firm and willful. But unlike his face, I could just as well read from the chains that still bound his wrists.
He was the slave, I was his owner. However much I might desire our relationship to be based at least on friendship, there could be no trust between someone who could not even decide where to sleep and another who could have the first one killed merely for entertainment.
And without at least a trace of trust, no friendship would ever grow.

Facing the grim reality of this, I left my place next to him, walking across the sandy roof towards the ladder I would use to get down into the yard again, lost in my own brooding.

He had climbed the wall with his hands still bound? And carrying a large turtle with him all the way? Maybe not a lizard, but definitely a very gifted man, I thought while I climbed down again. I could just as well have his restraints removed, for apparently he was very well able to do whatever he pleased with them as well.
And, maybe, this would start at least a first spark of mutual trust.

----

Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr)

I listened to his footsteps, as he walked away, leaving me to my hard won solitude again. Listened to the creaking of the ladder, when he started climbing down again. Obviously he had come up here just to talk to me, just to tell me he was sorry.

Not really a fitting behavior for a prince.

Had I treated any slave with as much consideration my father would have asked me if I had fallen on my head. Or if it might not be a better idea to set a slave so important to me free and make him my friend instead. But it seemed that was not on this prince's mind. As far as I could tell he was trying hard to have not only my body but my heart and soul as well. He would not be satisfied till he owned all of me. And I was not willing to give him that.

"What do you think, friend," I asked the turtle sitting next to me, "you have known him longer than I have: How can I use this strange infatuation he seems to have with me? How far will it go?"

The turtle did not answer. It did not even move. But it did not matter. The answer was easily found. I would have to find out myself. He was definitely giving me more leeway than I would have granted any slave, than his guards and other slaves deemed appropriate. I had caught their wondering stares when I climbed to the roof this morning. But only now was I starting to think about them and what they meant.

When I had woken up I had needed to get away. The proximity of the prince's body had left me feeling nauseated. Images of what he had done to me had surfaced again and again. And even worse, the tickling feeling of arousal at the passions he had evoked in my own body.

So I had sought out the only place in this crowded place, where I could be alone, where I could see the sandy desert that was my home. The warm wind had calmed my thoughts and the silent company of the turtle I had brought with me had soothed my aching heart.

And then he had come with his apology. I had tried to accustom myself to the thought of serving him in bed. Tried to bury my feelings of shame and desire deeply. And now he told me this was not what he wanted. That it was not enough. Who in the name of all nameless evil did he think he was to command me to give him even more?

He thinks himself the son of a god, the voice of reason answered in my head. And he does own you. He has taken from you everything that made you a man, everything that made you who you were. Why not give him that little bit more that remains of you?

And that was the point. Something of who I had been did remain. I could not name it, for it was neither honor nor pride, but I was not lost yet. There was still something left to feel anger, to resent, to fight back. To seek for the impossible way back to my life and my tribe.

Use his favor, use him, that little bit told me and I listened well.

"Let's go down again." I told the turtle and picked it up. Slowly I turned my back to the desert and my life there, silently vowing that it was only for a time, only until I found that way back, and walked back to the wall, where I had climbed up.

The ladder was still leaning against it. Maybe left for me to use, maybe just forgotten. It had not been easy to get up here but growing up in the desert I had climbed steeper rocks with less handholds when I had been only four. Having my hands tied had added some excitement to the venture, though.

Pride would have forbidden to take the ladder. But as I did not have any pride anymore I used it to climb down. Maybe there were bright sides to being dishonored and completely defeated.

When I got back to the prince's chamber he was already waiting for me, accompanied by the giant Nubian who served as the head of his guard. For a moment I was sure he was going to have me punished and I was feeling almost grateful. That would fuel my hatred and make it that much easier to despise him.

Lowering my head in an appropriate way I went over to him and knelt.

"If I have my guards take your chains off, will you swear on your honor, that you will not hurt any member of my household or try to escape?" he asked immediately.

I could barely believe my ears. Had he really said that? I had been expecting some kind of punishment for disappearing out of his bed without his leave and he was instead considering granting me even more freedom. He was certainly not behaving very wisely and the snort from his captain told me the Nubian was thinking so as well.

And to ask me to swear on my honor? Was he really that stupid?

"And you would trust the oath of a man who does not have any honor to swear on anymore?" I asked softly, curiously waiting for his reaction.

He did not answer the question. "I have told you before I do not consider you honorless." he said instead. "Will you swear?"

Stupid prince. He really trusted me to honor an oath that meant nothing to me. "I swear I will not harm any of your household or try to flee." I said, feeling deeply amused.

"Take his chains of!" the prince ordered his guard's captain.

The Nubian complied reluctantly. At least one man in this palace who was not an arrogant idiot. "I will watch you, slave." he told me menacingly, but I did not look up at him. Better not show him how right he was in his assessment of me.

---

The prince left soon after and I spend the rest of the day more or less idle. There really was nothing to do for me and nowhere to go. It actually was quite boring. Never in my life I had encountered the problem of having nothing to do.

I should have done some sort of training to help my body heal the wound in my shoulder and stay fit, but to do any sort of combat training in the prince's chambers would certainly have brought down the guards on my head and I did not want to push my luck by climbing the roof - where I would be unobserved - a second time today. But I promised myself that I would do it tomorrow and every other day that I would have to stay in this place.

When the sun went down, I again took my place next to the prince's bed. There was fear in my heart but also a certain curiosity on how he would react to finding me here yet again. If he would use me again, even if he now knew that I did not want and would never like it.

I did not have to wait long. He returned to his chambers only a couple of minutes after sundown, coming straight over to his bed without taking off his elaborate but dusty clothes or giving his other slaves time to clean him. For quite a while he just stood there silently, as unmoving as I watched his feet.

"So you have come again." he finally said. "Even though I doubt you wish to share my bed."

"What I wish is of no concern." I answered as any dutiful slave should.

He snorted with more then a small measure of disgust and amusement as well. "However that may be, you have managed to thoroughly douse my appetites." he said.

So something good has come of my submitting to you yesterday, I thought with sarcasm but of course I kept quiet.

"Still I wish for some amusement." the prince continued. "How about a match of dogs and snakes?"

"If it would please you, my prince." I answered, all humility. How easy it was to be subservient when I knew in truth I was mocking him with every word I said. And he probably knew it as well.

"It would please me. Do you know the rules?"

"Yes."

He walked off then and I finally raised my head to look after him. He was shedding his clothes on the way over to one of his sitting places, gesturing for his other slaves to pick up his things, bring over a gaming board and refreshments. I followed him slowly, almost smiling. This was something I might be able to enjoy.

----

Prince Nekhem (Orlando)

So it was to be Dogs and Snakes tonight, not lust and love and tangled sheets.

But just as well, this way, no-one would get hurt. At least, I hoped so.

Setting out the stones on the low ebon table that had been given to me by my father, I waited for my slave to come over and join me for a game or two.

It was a rather simple game, yet the simple rules offered a myriad of different strategies, and the longer you played the game, the more difficult it could become.
Only with half my mind I set the wooden sticks into their starting holes in the table, their carved heads almost as expressionless as the barbarian's face. Or, maybe, hinting at a hidden ferocity, but that was just the same with the desert warrior opposite of me.

"You take the Dogs, Snakes are mine", I decided while tossing him the dice. "You start."

"Of course, my prince", he replied with a slight inclination of his head.

He was mocking me, I knew that. He had been mocking me all the time, ever since I foolishly decided not to force him into my bed tonight once more. So here was what I got for my leniency: a slave making fun of me. Intelligent, subtle fun it was, but he was mocking me none the less. And we both knew it.

I should have him thoroughly lashed for his impertinence, but that would hurt me just as much as it would hurt him. Probably more. And this insolent bastard knew it very well. Slowly, I realised the truth behind the traditionally expected distance between master and slave.
As soon as one is emotionally involved when dealing with a slave, one is always on the loosing side. I should have him hung at the gates of the temple of Seth, but it was definitely too late for that by now. Hopefully, I would manage to get me out of this with my reputation and heart in one piece. Lady Isis, if ever you have considered helping me more than you have already done, this would be one situation your intervention would be highly appreciated.

I won the first game, and we were well into the second round that I noticed something odd in the way my slave was playing. He decided on his moves well enough, bold and like an experienced player, but every now and then, he hesitated just one bit longer than usually, and his next moves were risky at best. Foolhardily courageous, his moves were then, and consequentially, got him into a defensive position and into defeat.

Suddenly, I realised what he was doing, and I gasped with the enormity of his insolence.

"You are letting me win!", I shouted in utter disbelief, beside myself in anger about the fact that he implied to be too good a player at this game to play straight with me. "On purpose!"

"Of course, my prince", he replied again, and though I KNEW he smirked inwardly, his face was the utter mask of obedient control expected from a perfect slave.

Oh what a condescending, mean, heartlessly spiteful bastard this was!

"I have not asked this of you!" I was fuming, both at his insolence and at my stupidity not to have noticed immediately. "I demand you to play as good or as bad as you can."

Only a slightly raised eyebrow hinted at my slaves amusement as he said in fake meekness:

"If that pleases you, my Prince..."

I could have flayed him with my bare hands right there and then. How could he dare! But I held my anger in check, and fuming icily, I hissed at him:

"Well, it does not please me at all the way you have played until now."

The long, slightly questioning look he gave me showed that he had gotten the double meaning of that at least partially.

So we resumed the game in cold silence, and I almost gasped again as he managed to defeat me within the four next moves. This was impossible!
I was not an accomplished player myself, but not THAT bad either. What devilish trickery was he pulling off here?

Trying to accept his victory as gracious as possible, I offered him another round, and as expected, he accepted with perfect obedience. Bastard!
I focused on the game as hard as I had not done since I had been seven and playing against the High Priest of Ptah who had been waiting for an audience with my father. But whatever clever plans I might have laid out, they were of no avail. It took him five moves this time to defeat me.

I was perplexed and stunned beyond words. How could a mere barbarian play this game with such a brilliance? I doubted even the best of our players would have been a match for him. And all the time, he was sitting there, his face a blank mask of servitude, his whole bearing a mockery of me, my skills and my status.

Too confused to think of anything but how he was able to wipe my Snakes off the board so flamboyantly, I made the laughable mistake of offering him yet another round, and of course, he agreed.

This round did not bring any improvement, nor did the next or the one after that. Painfully, I had to admit to myself that the only way I could win against him was to order him to do so. And of course, he would obey, knowing to have defeated me on a battlefield far more important than Dogs and Snakes.

So I did the only graceful thing I could do and called it enough for tonight, standing up to go over to my bed. Casting one last glaring look back over my shoulder at my insolent barbarian I asked:

"Will you come and join me in my bed tonight or will you stay in your own?"

"I would prefer to use my own, if that is what pleases my Prince."

"Yes, sure....", I muttered, turning around into my bed without any further comment.

How on earth could a person be so fixed on his notions of honor and yet so mean at the same time? He must know what he did to me. How could he even dare to treat me like this? Me, a Prince of the Realm?

You ordered him to do so, a snug voice in my head answered my unvoiced question.
I was glad that the ever-present servants were already dousing the last oil-lamps in the room, for I would have loathed my slave to see me all red and fuming in my bed, probably pouting like a small child. This was just too mad.

So I sat in my bed, angry with all the world in general, my barbarian slave and myself in particular. Dear Lady Isis, how could I let all this happen? I'm making a complete fool of myself. I have tried all day to be reasonable, and what have I achieved? I have proven my stupidity and weakness.
If I had been heir apparent, I should have gone out to get myself a thorough beating, either from my soldiers or a priest at the temple of Osiris, to get all this weak and shameful infatuation out of me.

But luckily, I was only the Pharaoh's second son.
So after having been lying awake for at least an hour in the darkness of my vast chamber, I decided that humiliation was still better than a prolonged display of stubborn stupidity. Taking my sheets with me, I walked over to my slave's pallet in silence, sneaking close to his body, cuddling myself next to him as if this had been my plan from the very beginning. He smelled warm and gentle, and though I was somewhat afraid to wake him, I sneaked my arm around him.

Stupid, yes, and shameful if anyone would have noticed it, but true to my heart, and therefore in the will of the gods.
Hopefully.

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

go to PART 5

HOME * LIBRARY