The Thorn Boy Read online

  ‘We have all been concerned for you.’ Menefer went towards him and Akaten took a step back.

  ‘I have been treated very well, with every consideration.’

  Menefer’s face began to cloud, as if he intuited what was to come. In a quiet voice, he said, ‘I mean to take you home.’

  Akaten lifted his head. His eyes were dry, his voice surprisingly firm. ‘I cannot, Lord Menefer, return with you.’

  Menefer’s people all began to mutter and stir upon their seats. Menefer silenced them with a raised hand. ‘You can,’ he said, ‘if you ask for it. King Alofel told me this himself. It is why we are here now.’

  Akaten shook his head. ‘I cannot.’

  ‘What have they done to you?’ Menefer demanded. ‘What threats have been made?’

  It was the turn of my people now, to stir uncomfortably.

  ‘None,’ Akaten said, ‘but I will not go back with you.’

  ‘Why?’ Implications filled that simple, softly-spoken word.

  ‘My life is here now,’ Akaten said. ‘Harakhte is dead. There is nothing for me to return to.’

  ‘Your people,’ Menefer said quietly, treacherously. ‘You have a responsibility.’

  ‘No-one has the right to ask anything of me. I was devoted to Harakhte, you know that, but he is no more.’

  Menefer shook his head in disbelief. ‘Are you saying that you want to stay here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Menefer laughed, incredulous. ‘Then you are not the person I believed you to be! Has the wealth of Cos seduced you, or its murdering king?’

  Perhaps only I could see how Menefer’s words were wounding Akaten. He did not flinch or stumble over his words, but his pain seemed like a visible aura to me. ‘Alofel has been kind to me. I wish to forget the past. I will remain here.’

  There was silence for a moment, a terrible silence. Then Menefer released a string of insults. ‘You are a whore! Unworthy of honour! In Mewt, your name shall be erased from all Harakhte’s monuments, where once they waited for your blessing! I am only relieved my brother cannot witness your treachery!’ With these words, he spat in Akaten’s face and stalked from the room, his entourage hurrying behind him.

  Akaten stood in a ray of sunlight, his head bowed. He looked shrunken, ill. For a moment, a shadow passed across my mind. Then I went to him, put my arms around him, and he allowed me to lead him from the room.

  After this, relations with the Mewts cooled considerably, and only two days later, they rode away from Tarnax, leaving Alofel’s government in a state of consternation. They feared trouble would follow the Mewts’ departure, and more than one councillor confided to me that perhaps it would have been better if Menefer had been granted his wish. I tried to allay their anxieties, and reminded them that Akaten was indeed a spoil of war and that to relinquish him would perhaps have had worse consequences than keeping him at Tarnax. Mewt must know its position; a conquered country. It could not stamp its foot, make demands, and expect to have them granted.

  Alofel appeared unconcerned, his steady eyes daring anyone to comment on the wisdom of his actions. I am quite sure a lot was murmured behind his back.

  Queen Mallory did not shrink from making her sentiments known. I found out very quickly what she had to say about the situation. There were accusations that Akaten was a spy of Menefer’s, that the performance in the Council Chamber had been a premeditated act, designed to lull Alofel’s suspicions. Menefer might once have felt resentful of Harakhte, and coveted the throne, but now that he had it, had rediscovered his patriotism, and even now plotted to evict our army from his country. Akaten knew this and had resolved to remain in Tarnax in order to gather information. I even heard one rumour that Akaten would kill Alofel in his sleep, given the chance.

  Perhaps Mallory was astute about Menefer, but I gave no credence to her claims that Akaten was part of any plot. I knew that what irked her more than anything was the fact that Alofel had true affection to give to Akaten. I, and the other concubines, were tolerated because Mallory thought we meant little more to Alofel than his favourite dogs. We were an unavoidable nuisance. But, as I had, Mallory sensed that Akaten could be something more. We all knew that Harakhte had granted Akaten status above the queen of Mewt. Mallory, no doubt, feared the same happening here. In her eyes, she already had to make too many concessions to whores and catamites. She had allies in her smear campaign, for there were still many who would have liked to see Akaten shipped back to Mewt.

  The king himself stepped in to end the intrigue. He summoned the entire court, not to the Council Chamber, but to the Hall of Judging, where decisions over the gravest matters of state were made. Here Alofel made a statement. He said that any accusations made against Akaten, were in effect made against the Crown, since Alofel himself had decreed Akaten would remain in Tarnax. Speaking plainly, he stated that if any more ill-founded rumours came to his ears, he would discover the identity of the perpetrator and punish them severely, whoever they were. This was a public humiliation for Mallory, because everyone was aware towards whom the threats were directed. Mallory and Alofel had never been in dispute before. I knew that he respected her and was often lenient in his treatment of his spirited consort, but this time she had underestimated his feelings and had gone too far. I knew that Akaten had made a dangerous enemy, but was confident that Alofel’s love would shield him.

  I had protected Akaten from the malicious gossip as best I could, although after Menefer’s departure, he seemed in such a daze, he was incapable of noticing any hostile nuances around him. He had become introverted, troubled. I understood the trauma he’d been through, but trusted I could heal his troubled spirits. He did not seem to harbour any ill-feeling towards me for my part in his trials, and I took this at face value. His beauty, however, became haunted. Occasionally, he would start at nothing, and stare at empty corners of the room. Sometimes, I awoke in the dead of night to find him pacing up and down beside our bed, mumbling in Mewtish under his breath. He always responded to my voice and came silently to my side, curling up against me, but we no longer seem to communicate in the way we had. He would not articulate his fears, no matter how I cajoled him. Occasionally, he would refuse to eat for days at a time, and became feverish, but again, he obeyed my injunctions without argument, and sipped the herbal concoctions I procured for him from the palace apothecary. During this time, my lust for him became inflamed, and I forced myself upon him at every opportunity. Wearily, he submitted himself to my demands, a passive lover whose eyes were clouded. I realise now I was stupid, and did not heed the signs. I should have pressed him to speak to me, forced him to voice his anger, for it was there. All the time. Unspoken.

  Alofel commented a couple of times on Akaten’s apparent preoccupation, and seemed to hold me personally responsible for his episodes of vagueness and delirium. Patiently, I shouldered these criticisms with many apologies, continuing to dose Akaten with potent elixirs and smother him with affection. It seemed, eventually, to work. Never again did I hear Harakhte’s name upon his lips.

  The summer cracked and dried the land, heading towards a change of season. As the nights cooled slightly, Akaten seemed to settle down. His behaviour became less eccentric, his smile rested easier on his face. Although the country of Mewt might have dropped off the face of the earth, for all mention he made of it, we did begin to converse freely once more. About nothing, really.

  One night, he initiated our love-making himself, and I was filled with relief. Alofel stopped complaining, and once more took delight in Akaten’s daily company. Akaten himself seemed to derive more pleasure from his conversations with the king. He would return from the royal apartments with a spring in his step and try to tell me about what they discussed. I had no interest at all in their conversations, and responded only in mono-syllables. Sometimes, I caught Akaten regarding me wryly as I snapped some dismissive remark at him, but I was stupid enough to pay it no heed. Queen Mallory’s waspish comments about Akaten lost their sting. Nobod
y believed now that he was a threat to national security. He was no longer referred to as the Khan’s boy, or even ‘the Mewt’.

  Akaten generally returned from the royal chambers several hours before I could expect the king’s summons, but as time went on, and the colours of the garden changed to brazen gold, the time between our visits to Alofel grew less and less, until one evening I found myself passing Akaten on the stairs outside Alofel’s rooms. I paused, a little surprised. ‘It must have been a long conversation today.’

  ‘Not as long as yours will be, surely!’ he answered, rather coldly.

  I shrugged and made to pass him. ‘I will see you later.’ He let me kiss him on the cheek, but made no move to return it. Clearly, my sharp remark had offended him, but I had no fear I couldn’t cajole him out of his bad humour later on.

  The next evening, I received no summons from the king, but that was not unusual. I did not expect him to call for me every night, and looked forward to a relaxing evening on the terrace with my beloved. I had the servants prepare a sumptuous supper for us and went out to wait in the starlight. Soon, it would be too cold to eat outdoors at night. The Cossic summers and autumns were long, but once winter marched in, the transition was brief and brutal.

  I went to stand against the balustrade, wrapped in a light cloak. Akaten’s puppy licked his paws on the tiles beside me. Presently, I became ill at ease. Akaten was very late. Where was he? I went to where the supper lay waiting for us, and poured myself a cup of wine. Once this was consumed, I drank another, then another. After that, I must have dozed for a while.

  It was the laughter that woke me. I sat up, with the echo of a dream in my head, some memory of when Akaten and I had first made love beside the lake. My mouth was dry, my head muzzy with the heavy wine. Then I realised the laughter was real, that I recognised it, and that it came from the garden below.

  In a daze I flew to the balustrade and looked over. I saw Akaten running across the yellow lawns, which were bleached in moonlight. He ran between the dappled shadows of the trees, scattering peacocks before him. I thought at first he’d gone utterly mad and was about to call out to him, because my voice always seemed to bring him back to his senses. Then I realised he was not alone. Another figure pursued him, someone who also laughed. Akaten dodged around the trees, his hair swinging. My heart, which at first seemed to have lurched unbidden to my mouth, now sank to the very pit of my belly. It was Alofel who was running and laughing with Akaten in the garden.

  I was incensed at once. How dare he! What was this game, when he should be here with me? My fingers curled around the stone beneath my hands. Akaten spun around on the seared grass, leading Alofel a hectic dance. I saw the king’s hands lash out to grab the spinning boy, always clutching at nothing. Then, as I blinked, he caught up and took Akaten in his arms. Akaten did not try to break away but stood there, motionless. His arms went about Alofel’s neck. They stared at one another for a few moments, then kissed.

  The heat of my anger chilled within me. I was made of ice. I was winter.

  I don’t know how I endured that long night. Tears blurred my vision before I saw them leave the garden. I crouched against the balustrade, shuddering with cold. At some point, I must have fallen asleep, for when I opened my eyes again, it was morning. The puppy had eaten all of our supper, and scraps were spread about the scattered plates. After a moment’s stunned contemplation of this forlorn sight, I collected myself and jumped to my feet. I did not want Akaten to find me in this state, and hurried back to my own rarely-used rooms, past Akaten’s curious servants who were already seeing to breakfast.

  The air in my bedroom was stale, and I threw open the window. Then I bathed myself with care, and tidied my appearance. Wezling fussed around me, sensing my distress, but too polite to comment on it.

  Akaten appeared about an hour later, sauntering into my rooms with a smile on his face, as if nothing had happened. The moment I saw him, an arrow of pure hate lanced up through my body, but it was feathered with bewilderment and grief. Never had I loved him more.

  His smiled faltered. ‘Good morning, Darien. You seem in bad spirits.’

  I wanted to shout and accuse, but realised the folly of it. Only honesty would do. ‘You forgot our appointment last night.’

  He frowned a little. ‘Oh, were we supposed to be doing something?’

  ‘Only the same as we have done every night for months.’ I fixed him with a steady stare.

  He had the audacity to return my gaze with unfaltering eyes. ‘I did not come back from the king’s chambers. So what? Most nights I am left waiting alone for you.’

  I did not bother to remind him that I always came to him eventually. ‘I saw you in the garden.’

  His gaze flickered only slightly. ‘Did you?’ He bent to investigate my breakfast, which lay mostly untouched on the low table before me.

  ‘Yes. So you have betrayed me and given yourself to him!’

  He looked up at me. ‘Darien, cast your mind back to the day when you told me I must speak to Menefer. You have taught me well. I am merely ensuring my own survival. Didn’t you tell me to do that? Why are you so distressed?’

  ‘You kissed him!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what else besides?’

  Akaten sighed. ‘It was just a kiss, Darien. A game. Most nights, you give yourself to him. You have no right to accuse me.’

  ‘But I have no feelings for him. It means nothing. It’s my job.’

  He shrugged. ‘I know.’ Then he reached out and put his hand on my knee. ‘Oh, don’t be angry. It’s senseless. Alofel knows the way I feel, but I have to give him something in return for his tolerance and generosity. If you and I want to remain together, it’s essential. Come now, change your face. I’m here now.’

  I wanted to believe him and allowed myself to be convinced. I blotted from my mind the memory of their laughter, the pause before the kiss which must have meant so much. Even now, I have no doubt that Akaten was merely putting on a performance designed to please Alofel, but he had deliberately advanced their relationship, allowed things to happen that would only encourage Alofel’s obsession. During those moments on the lawn had Akaten thought once of me? It was unlikely. Yet every time I went to Alofel’s bed, I dreamed of him. It was the only thing that made the experience bearable.

  Alofel did not summon me for two days, and I began to worry. Akaen assuaged my fears, saying that the king was unwell. ‘Don’t fret. He’ll call for you soon. What’s the matter? Are you missing him?’

  His teasing scored my heart.

  On the third evening, a royal servant came to summon me, and I belived that all must be well. Alofel did seem rather frail and distant, but treated me kindly, and afterwards, gave me a present; a jewelled pin for my jacket.

  Things progressed in this fashion for a couple of weeks. Akaten spent more time with king, but took care to return to me each evening. Or, at least I supposed he took care. Perhaps it was just coincidence. Representatives from a noble family were visiting the palace, so Alofel might not have had as much time as usual for amorous dalliances.

  Then one night, Akaten did not make an appearance. I was waiting for him in his chambers, and we had definitely agreed to be together that night. It was one of the girls’ birthdays, and a party would take place in the women’s quarters. We had planned to go there together. By the tenth hour of the night, an hour after the party had started, Akaten had still not come back from the king. Seething with suspicions, I wrapped myself in a dark cloak and crouched upon his balcony to watch the garden, although it was unlikely they’d wander out there now. The autumn rains had started, and each evening the lawns were soaked. After over an hour of huddling in the depressing drizzle, I went back into his rooms. I paced around, lifting objects - all of which were presents from the king - my head afire with torturing thoughts. Porfarryah’s face swam before my inner eye; her hard expression, the words, ‘He will damage you, Darien. Take care.’ Servants bustled invisibly in the
rooms around me, their ears tuned to my frantic movements. I sensed their delighted whispers, the exchange of intriguing information, which had no doubt already fluttered its way into the women’s quarters, spicing up the conversation at the party. It felt as if the whole palace was buzzing with gossip about me. I could imagine what was being said: I had been betrayed. Akaten had used me in a scheme to take my place at Alofel’s side. I had been fooled by love and beauty. Soon, I might be sent to the court of some lesser nobleman, because my continued, useless presence in the palace would be an affront to Alofel’s sensibilities.

  Then Akaten would lounge like a great tawny cat in my place, his exotic face wreathed in an enigmatic smile.

  I could stand it no longer.

  My feet seemed to drag my agonised mind out of Akaten’s rooms. I walked slowly, and with purpose, towards the chambers of the king. Around me, the echoing halls seemed immeasurably high. Banners of gold and purple swayed in a distant breeze, miles over my head. I seemed to shoot out my body to hang among their dusty folds and look down at the small figure striding along the ancient corridors, his cloak blown out around him like dark wings, his head surrounded by a halo of black flames.

  The journey through the palace seemed endless. I was dazed, perplexed by the eternal flights of shallow steps that made me feel like a tiny, crawling creature negotiating a fallen pack of cards. From every shadowed corner, rampant stone lions and gryphons leered down at me with lolling tongues. Ancient swords clashed upon the walls around me. I walked in a sick delirium, my mouth full of the taste of blood and shit, a cruel reminder of my lover of the shrine, who might or might not have been Akaten. If it had been, how apt his actions now seemed. He had forced me to taste myself, the most bitter gall of my inner being, and now I retched upon it, again and again.

  Then the final flight of stairs were before me: smooth grey stone, carpeted with velvety red plush. Motionless guards stood to attention before the great doors that led to the reception room of the royal chambers. I heard clarions blare, and the howls of victory. I heard the stamp of many horses.