The Thorn Boy Read online

  One of the guards shifted position a little as I approached. Usually, I was escorted to these rooms and never came alone.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, laying a feverish hand on his armoured arm. ‘I am expected. Akaten and the king.’

  The guard peered down at me suspiciously through the translucent scales of his visor. He looked like a legendary bird, wings furled at his back. But it was only the shift of draperies against the wall.

  The second guard said, ‘Let the boy in,’ and by the secret tone of his voice, I knew he did not care whether I was expected or not. These were my people. They would stand behind me.

  I inclined my head to him as I passed through the doors. For a brief time, I wondered whether I would ever come out again.

  I passed through the dimly-lit rooms like a phantom, drifting through skeins of woody incense smoke. Luck was with me, for I came across none of Alofel’s staff. Then, at the door to his bed chamber, his steward Capronel appeared from a side door. The steward’s eyes almost fell from his head when he saw me. He rushed forward and took hold of my arms.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed.

  ‘Let me go,’ I said calmly.

  He shook his head, speaking in an urgent whisper. ‘I can’t, Darien. You must know that I can’t.’

  I tried to prise myself from his grip and spoke in a low, clear voice. ‘I have to see, Capronel. Please, let me see. I’m not going to do anything rash, but I have to know. My future is at stake.’

  ‘What is the point of seeing?’ he asked sadly. ‘It was inevitable. Come, let me take you back to your rooms. I will find Porfarryah...’

  ‘No!’ Because I knew I was on the point of being marched out of the royal chambers, I summoned all of my strength, and broke free of Capronel’s hold. I threw myself at the doors ahead of me, flung them wide.

  The room was low-lit by guttering candles. The lovers were sprawled on the wide bed, among the tangled sheets, apparently well-sated. Akaten lay on his back, his head resting on Alofel’s lap. He held a goblet of wine upright on his chest, while the king played with his shawl of hair. Akaten was talking, gesturing with his free hand. Alofel gazed down at him like a moonstruck doe. My arrival interrupted their conversation, and both of them looked towards the door. Alofel didn’t seem to recognise me at first, probably because it didn’t occur to him I’d have the audacity to walk in on him, but Akaten knew me straight away. His expression was unreadable. I wanted to think it was shock, but mostly I think it was empty.

  ‘Darien,’ Alofel said eventually. His voice held the beginning of censure. Before he could call for his guards, I slammed the doors shut quickly. I had seen what I’d come here to see. Behind me, Capronel made an anguished sound, half scolding, half sympathetic. I brushed away his fluttering hands and went back the way I had come.

  I could have gone to Porfarryah; she would have been pleased and relieved to see me, and for my sake, would have kept any smug sense of vindication from her manner and voice. But I could face no-one. I went back to my rooms and drank myself unconscious, waiting for the knock of doom upon my door.

  By morning, the entire palace must have known what had happened, because Capronel would have told everyone. I had never experienced the feelings that surged through my body. Such anger, such indignation, such pain. I had no idea what Alofel would do, but guessed he would not let the matter pass. I had acted above my station, as if I were his equal, bursting into his private room like a scorned lover. At the very least, I could expect a beating, but what I feared most was dismissal, exile to the house of an ancient noble-man. At any moment, the guards would come. I paced my chamber, trying to think, to plan.

  The hour for breakfast had nearly passed, and no guards had arrived to drag me off into custody. Perhaps Akaten had appealed to Alofel on my behalf. Perhaps they were waiting to see what I’d do. After all, Alofel would have been aware I had my allies at court. I half expected Porfarryah to show her face, but she did not. I even harboured a small, sickening desire for Akaten to come to me, but even as I longed for it, I knew I was destined to be disappointed.

  I could go to one of my friends on the Council and speak to them in confidence. I could make provisions for an exile I could bear. If I made a dignified retreat, Alofel would be unlikely to oppose it, because to do so would attract more attention to the situation. Yes, this would be the safest course. I knew exactly from whom I could expect sympathy and aid. But these things would not give me what I desired most: revenge. I resolved, in my unfamiliar agony, to take a risk.

  I donned my smartest, blackest clothes and brushed my hair until it gleamed like jet. I put earrings of obsidian into my ears, and brushed the skin around my eyes with a kiss of charcoal. My mirror showed me the image of an aloof young man of glacial beauty. I was a black and white creature; even my lips were without colour, and my eyes were the darkest grey. It was as I desired.

  Once my preparations were finished, I called for Wezling and ordered him to precede me to the women’s quarters. Only servants were about at that hour, but I was conscious of the way they avoided my eyes as I approached. Once I had passed they would look back at me and whisper.

  Wezling hopped around outside the swan-relief doors to the concubines’ apartments, but I did not pause. Surprised, he jumped ahead of me. ‘Excuse me, sir, but where are we going? You said the women’s quarters...’

  ‘Of the queen,’ I answered.

  He said nothing more.

  Guards stood on duty before Mallory’s chambers, as they did before Alofel’s, but her quarters were more modest and were not approached by a flight of steps. This area of the palace was very feminine, light and airy. There were no impending grey stones, no heavy banners of dark, funereal colours, but gauzy cream curtains, and tiles of polished white marble. Pretty green birds sang and fluttered in enormous cages that hung from the ceiling. The incense here was of mimosa, jasmine and rose.

  Wezling bowed to the guards and requested that the queen’s steward be summoned. After a few minutes, a tall youth in saffron livery presented himself before us. Orlando. He was entirely a creature of Mallory’s and despised me utterly. I, after all, was the favourite of the king, while he was relegated to the service of the queen. No doubt he thought enough of himself to believe he was more worthy of Alofel’s attention than I. I disliked his small, full lips, and the indistinct colour of his hair, although by many his looks were considered incomparable. He glanced at Wezling and beyond him. His mouth turned down into a sneer when he saw me standing there upon the rose-coloured carpet, a spectre in black. He did not bother to address my servant.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Good morning, Orlando. Be so kind as to tell the queen I wish to speak with her.’

  He laughed in incredulity. ‘What? Do you really think she will oblige you?’

  I refused to return his rudeness; my voice was mild. ‘Yes. When she hears what I have to say.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That is my business and Queen Mallory’s. I will not discuss it with her underlings.’

  Orlando flared his nostrils. ‘You needn’t think that just because you’ve lost the king’s favour, you can come sniffing round here, hoping Her Majesty will take pity on you. She won’t. You’re finished, Darien, and not before time.’

  I sighed patiently. ‘Orlando, I have no interest in your opinions. Tell the queen I am here, and that I must speak to her. It is for her benefit as much as mine. And let me tell you now, if you continue to be obstructive, to the point where the queen does not learn the information I have to give her, she will not look kindly upon you at all.’

  He hesitated a moment, and I could almost see his dim brain trying to invent some new insults. Clearly, none were forthcoming, because he dismissed me from his attention and stalked back into the royal apartments. I looked at Wezling’s mortified face and smiled gently. I felt my power coming back to me. It filled the fibres of my body with crimson fire.

  I knew that the q
ueen would not be able to resist finding out what I had to say, although she did keep me waiting outside her quarters for over an hour. She sent no-one to invite me into the reception chamber, where I might have waited in more comfort. Still, these affronts did not bother me. I understood why she felt I deserved them.

  Eventually, Orlando reappeared and ordered me inside. ‘You’re lucky,’ he said. ‘She’s curious.’

  I smiled politely and followed him into the queen’s morning room. She sat beneath the window at her breakfast table, being fussed over by a gang of maids and boy-servants. She had clearly come recently from her bath, because she wore only a belted gown, and the room reeked of lilac-scented body powder. I realised this was the closest I had ever come to her. Mallory was an imposing sight; very tall, and although not in the slightest given to fat, a statuesque and heavy-boned creature. Her heavy ash-blond hair fell over her shoulders and curled down into the ripe cleavage of her powder-spotted bosom. She wore no make-up, other than a scrawl of black over each plucked eyebrow. Her lips, like mine, were unusually pale.

  ‘Well, well,’ she drawled as I entered the room. ‘What have we here? A little black imp, I believe!’ All her menials tittered at the joke.

  I bowed low. ‘Thank you for granting me an audience, Your Majesty. I would speak to you alone.’

  Mallory lifted a huge strawberry from a porcelain dish before her, dipped it into an avalanche of white sugar heaped in a bowl nearby, and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully as she looked at me. ‘I wonder what you could have to tell me that I might find interesting.’

  ‘It concerns a matter of mutual anxiety.’

  She smiled and took another strawberry, twirling it in her fingers before her lips. ‘But, Darien, I don’t feel anxious,’ she said and bit into the fruit.

  ‘I would very much like to speak to you in private.’

  She stared at me, chewing. Her gaze was inscrutable, although I could tell she was delighted I was there. She swallowed, and for a few moments, glanced around herself scornfully, as if appraising her staff, who all gawped at her like eager puppies. Then, she sniffed. ‘Very well. Out. All of you! Scamper off now!’

  Once they had all departed in a flustered and disgruntled throng, I bowed again. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’

  Mallory raised a hand at me dismissively. ‘Oh, don’t come that with me. We both know where we stand. Now, I suppose you want my help because Alofel is glutting himself on Mewtish meat.’

  I told her then what had happened the previous night.

  When I had finished speaking, she twitched her nose and drew her finger through the sugar, licked it. ‘I can’t understand why you think I might have the slightest interest in your plight, or even what I could do about it. It has long been ground into me I have no influence over my husband’s carnal affairs.’

  ‘I am not looking for help,’ I replied, ‘but a partner.’

  Mallory laughed fiercely. ‘What?’ Sobering, she shook her head. ‘Oh, Darien, Darien, I believe I might be dreaming. Do not take me for a fool.’

  ‘That is the last thing I would ever take you for,’ I said. ‘I never have.’

  ‘Flattery now, eh?’ She took another fruit, nibbled it thoughtfully, pointed at me with it. ‘Let us face facts. You have been a thorn in my mattress for years. You strut around as if you were his wife, not I. You and that slut, Porfarryah. If you are in pain now, I applaud it.’

  ‘Your Majesty, I enact my role in this palace as you enact yours. I understand your vexation, but the way things are is really not my fault.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but you’re the one asking for my aid, not Alofel. I have to admit, I’m aghast you have the impertinence to present yourself here. Has love brought you to this grovelling state, sweet Darien?’

  ‘Not love,’ I said. ‘Something you understand, I think. Revenge.’

  Mallory laughed again. ‘It makes no difference to me whether you or the Mewt wave your backsides in Alofel’s face. I have no desire to help you or conspire with you. Whatever happens, my life will still be littered with impudent strumpets.’

  I dared not feel defeated. ‘Your Majesty, the presence of the Mewt is a threat to all. Much as it seems distasteful to you, we should close ranks over this interloper, otherwise we could all be out in the cold.’

  Mallory raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Explain.’

  I sauntered to her table and she watched in silence as I helped myself to a strawberry. ‘You know as well as I how Akaten was regarded in Mewt. As Alofel’s favourite, he may well wheedle similar favours here. If I am a thorn in your mattress, he will be a cage of briars around you.’ I paused and chewed the strawberry. ‘Alofel loves Akaten. That is common knowledge. Love makes people stupid. They desire to please.’

  Mallory shook her head. ‘Alofel is a creature of tradition. He would not dare to make too many changes. He would be opposed.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Naturally, and it would damage him in the eyes of the court. Perhaps we have a duty to address this situation. Look, I could have approached members of the Council about this, but despite our mutual feelings, I came to you. Why? Because I know this is your territory. You are the only person in this establishment capable of dealing with the Mewt.’

  Mallory regarded me keenly for a while. ‘Well, these are words I never expected to hear.’ She rolled a strawberry around in the sugar. ‘Maybe, just maybe, I could be of assistance. However, I will not come from this empty-handed.’

  ‘I would not expect you to. What are your terms?’

  ‘As you have implied, you have friends among the Councillors. You must speak to them. Before this matter can proceed any further, I want your promise that you will arrange for your council seat to be passed to me.’

  It took some effort to conceal my surprise. ‘That may be difficult, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Oh well. You may leave, then. The matter is closed.’

  ‘There would have to be a vote.’

  ‘I know. But for your allies, my friends would have swayed the vote a long time ago.’

  I realised then she had been waiting for a moment such as this. In her patience, some instinct had advised her it would come. Once I was dismissed from Alofel’s side, my seat would be lost in any case. I had nothing to lose. ‘Very well. I will do as you ask.’

  ‘Good. Do it now, and return to me with news. Then we shall talk.’

  It was not an easy task. Some of the councillors were extremely wary of Mallory; a queen who showed more interest in affairs of state than was considered demure. I had to remind my council friends of favours I had granted them, words whispered to the king that had advanced their various, personal causes. One particular duke, Ferdinand, spoke plainly that morning.

  ‘Darien, yours was ever a thin pole to balance upon. Now you have fallen. What use are you to any of us now? I admire and respect you, but for my own safety I should stand back and observe as you bleed and struggle with your broken bones.’

  ‘I know too much,’ I answered. ‘You won’t let the fall cripple me.’

  I saw him mull over, then, the things I had done for him in the past, and how the details of his affairs, brought to light, would cause him discomfort.

  ‘You are Cossic,’ I said in a kinder tone. ‘Surely you would prefer Mallory beside you on the council rather than Akaten?’

  ‘That would not happen!’ he said.

  I shrugged. ‘Akaten will not help you. He does not understand the machinery of the court. Mallory as an ally, however, could be of use.’

  Ferdinand shook his head. ‘You want blood, don’t you,’ he said.

  I smiled. ‘I have been treated badly, betrayed and used. Blood is the least I desire.’

  By noon, I had persuaded all but two of my allies to vote for Mallory. It was the majority she needed. In truth, I think most of the councillors realised that as they would be losing me, they might as well attempt to woo the queen. I knew she wouldn’t be as amenable as I had been, and was forced
to exaggerate a little concerning this, but if they paid whatever price she demanded, they might still claw back some clandestine influence over the king.

  The next time I presented myself at Mallory’s door, I was allowed entrance immediately. She saw me once more in her salon, now dressed in a robe of soft, heather-coloured silk.I gave her a list of names, beside which I had secured some signatures. The next time the council met, they would have to vote in someone to replace me. Now, that would be Mallory. Alofel might not like it, but he’d be aware his position was delicate at present and would not put up a fight.

  Mallory nodded and smiled and sat down at her table. She laced her hands in her lap. ‘Now then, Darien, take a seat. We will have an informal discussion.’

  She pursed her mouth in thought, then spoke. ‘You’ve been sharing the Mewt’s bed for months, and many unfettered remarks pass back and forth across the pillows of love. I think it’s time you began to remember a few.’

  ‘Perhaps you could help jog my memory.’

  ‘Of course. Well, I don’t believe for a moment that Akaten has lost his love for the dead Khan, or his country.’

  ‘He has not. Harakhte’s name was ever upon his lips in moments of intimacy.’

  She nodded. ‘Good. Menefer too is not what Alofel thinks. Cossics do not understand Mewts. They ascribe to them the morals and values of Cos. This is a grave mistake. I am not Cossic, and I can appreciate the Mewtish mind only too well. The Cossic nobleman is a thinker; honourable, loyal and traditional, but he keeps emotion in check. Challis Hespereth demands sex as a sacrifice, not love. The Mewt, on the other hand, is a passionate individual; he feels. Love to him is all; it is his god. He would die for it. Emotion leads people to act irrationally, as we have seen here over the matter of Akaten.’

  ‘This much is obvious,’ I said, unsure of where she was heading.

  She raised a hand to silence me. ‘Whatever Menefer thought of Harakhte in life, he will not dishonour his memory in death. Alofel and his councillors look down upon the Mewts, see them as fiery barbarians, who will act impulsively, but who do not have the strategic wit or discipline to win a war. Wrong. Menefer will bide his time, but will eventually raise an army against Cos. Harakhte brought prosperity to Mewt. He was the beginning of a new age, and consequently his death is a bigger blow to the people than the Cossics realise.