Squire of Carlovain

SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN, CONCLUSION

Chapter 18

"Eveningsong"

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

Andrew staggered back as Renaud's blade clashed with his own, and Renaud pressed the attack as only one who is driven by fury can. Only all of Andrew's skill and training kept him from being killed in the first, few, furious blows, for Renaud was thoroughly intent upon killing him.

He had no time for speech, no chance for rebuttal or explanation, all his strength had to be saved for this, to defend his life against a better swordsman than he, who intended to spill his life upon the floor.

A crystal clarity came to Andrew, the way the lights of the candle turned Renaud into golden tones. His face was etched with anger, his eyebrows joined together in the scowl that confronted him. He was grimy, covered also with the salt from the ocean water that had dried upon his body and which now glittered here and there with the tiniest of golden sparkles, and covered, too, in mud and dirt so that he seemed an earth elemental of some sort, a basic sort of fury.

By whatever means he had escaped from the sinking ship and the Neresterii swords which had surrounded it, and then made it to shore and then across Winseran Point, it was obvious that he had done all of this with determination and, when he had learned of Andrew's true identity in some way, the determination had turned into the fury that had let him enter this heavily guarded village (where he'd no doubt earned the wound) and then to this room by climbing up the outside of the house, for he had entered through the window, and Andrew remembered the house enough to know that this had been no mean feat.

But he had this much luck, Renaud had been wearied by this long struggle, and wounded as well and, most importantly, he had fenced with Andrew in friendly bouts for many weeks, so that he had no secrets from Andrew.

The King, at least, had voice, he was calling for his guards. Andrew knew that he need only postpone this bout by any means necessary, and Renaud would lose.

He took the chance their locked blades gave him to gasp out, "Renaud, you must flee! The guards will be here soon!"

Renaud was also out of breath, for the sword is a heavy and painful weight to bear in battle, and combined with the press of an opponent's blade upon it, it becomes thrice the burden. "I can die easily knowing that I pierce the heart of the serpent that nestled in my bosom."

"You wrong me grievously!" Andrew said. "I but served my King and Carlovain."

"By betraying me!" Renaud said and broke the blade lock. Andrew jumped backwards to avoid the blade, and his feet unhappily caught some of the discarded clothing lying there, and he stumbled, and Renaud struck the blade from his hand.

Andrew used the only counter he had left, he fell on back to the floor, deliberately, for the sword lashed over his head.

And Renaud brought his sword back to deliver the killing blow.

And caught himself, looked puzzled, and fell at Andrew's feet, and behind him stood the King with his own sword, naked as Andrew, the only color besides that of the King's golden body was the yellow sheen of the sword in the candlelight, and the red blood that now adorned its tip.

"He shall live." the King said. "For a time, at least, long enough for the executioner's block to claim him instead."

"Summon a doctor." Andrew said and scrambled on all fours to Renaud's side. "We must staunch the bleeding." The King had thrust his blade into Renaud's lower back on one side. Andrew scooped up his clothing, his new tunic with the King's colors upon it, and heedlessly pressed the cloth to the wound, to hold in Renaud's life.

"Take your hands away from me, you miserable churl." Renaud gasped. "Let me die as I am, without the filth of your hands touching me."

"Renaud, kaserin, believe me, I am your friend." Andrew said. "On that, I did not lie to you."

"You are no kin of mine. I saw you here. I watched from the window as you gave your body to this usurper to the throne of Carlovain, all smiles and pleasure. I heard your words of renunciation of myself as if I were nothing to you. I merely taught you tricks to use to pleasure him." And his voice dripped bitterness. The guards were now at the door, entering first in noise, then falling silent as they regarded the scene.

"Then you were not at the window long enough, or you would have seen a quite different sight." the King said. "That of Andrew kneeling before me most piteously, pleading for your life, and my granting it to you. And you have thrown it away with this act of treachery."

"Nay, Sire, call it not treachery." Andrew said. "He did not strike at you, but at me. It was a matter of vengeance, which the law permits. His only transgression against you was that he did it in your room rather than on the field of honor."

"Even now you plead for him." the King said. "And again my heart is moved. Again, I shall forgive him, for your sake."

"I do not wish your forgiveness!" Renaud snarled. "I shall die defiant."

"His wound fevers him, has addled his brain. He speaks only nonsense and we shall ignore it as such." the King said to his retainers. "Fetch the physician, tell him we have a wound to be stitched shut."

Renaud turned his eyes, dimming, to Andrew. "I shall never forgive you." he said. "Never, for as long as I live."

"I care not for that, so long as you live." Andrew said. "Pray, kaserin, stay alive. Hate me as you must, it is no more than I deserve, but stay alive."

Renaud had fallen into a faint. The physician arrived, and knelt by Renaud. "I shall tend this fool." he said, taking the cloth from Andrew's hands and replacing it with his own.

Andrew rose, his fingers red from where the blood had soaked through. "Save him, pray." he said, as his mother entered and guided him from the room. "Save him, and I shall reward you well."

"Come, we must find you both another room in which to sleep this night, Your Majesty." Andrew's mother said. "It is not seemly that you rest in a room bespoiled by rebel's blood."

The King had wrapped himself in the covering from the bed. He opened it long enough to wrap Andrew as well, by placing his arm around Andrew. Andrew took it, and was led dazed and uncomprehending, through the unfamiliar house, as if in a dream.

Vedron's prophecy had come true. He had saved Carlovain, but it had cost him dearly. He had expected it to be his life, or a terrible wound, not this. Not with the loss of Renaud's love, who would, with all his fellow nobles, hate him for the rest of their lives. One day, one of their swords would find him and finish him, in their hands or in their children's hands. He would live the rest of his life as a hunted man, either forced to kill again and again as the revenge-thirsty sought him out, or instead dying at their hands, for vengeance was the exception to the Code Duello, and such bouts were always to the death. Chosen to ward the King, he must instead himself be warded and surround himself with guards to sleep and be ever vigilant against the assassin's blade. And one day, inevitably, one such blade would find its mark.

He went to the bed, smaller, with the King and, when alone and with the King's arms around him, gave vent to his emotions and cried as he had not cried since he had been a small child, not in fear for his eventual fate, but for the loss of Renaud.

He greeted the dawn with loathing, for his service required that he arise with the King and dress along with him, and put upon himself the sword and, girded for the battle that could strike at any moment, escort him about the town. The King was a busy man, and victory was as much a bother as a battle in the details it took; there was much to do, and to be done rapidly.

He watched as each of the young nobles were brought forward, how each in turn knelt at the King's feet and, with a guard's sword at his neck, gave forth with the words of repentance and avowed renewed loyalty. The King made no mention yet of his intended bounty to these young men, except in whispers to Andrew, "This young lad will become the new Duke of Bouillon." and "There stands the new Count of Merlemagne." A few refused to recant, and were led away to the executioner's block, which was thankfully out of sight of where the King sat.

Lord Montaigne was the last to be brought forth. He stepped up defiantly, and said, "I don't understand why you have brought me here. You have already punished me sufficiently, I think."

"I have taken the duchy of Heslov, yet you still hold the fief of Sheredov in the east. As the Earl of Sheredov, I must ask you to recant your treachery and swear the oath."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then the executioner shall add another head to those he is placing on the pikes for the commoners to spit upon." the King said coolly. "Several of your friends are already there. At this time, my former Chancellor's head forms the central decoration, but I shall have him moved aside for yours."

Lord Montaigne looked at Andrew. "There is the traitor. I know of a half-dozen men who have sworn personal vengeance upon him. I'm told one of them tried his hand last night. There shall be more. I guarantee that."

Andrew couldn't think of anything to say, and kept silent. It seemed to impress Lord Montaigne more than anything he could have said.

"Well, I have failed, but my sons may one day drink his blood. Very well, I shall give you back my loyalty, and swear not to again raise my blade against you or any of your house for so long as I shall live."

"You shall kneel and do it in the proper form." The King said sternly.

Montaigne did, sullenly. When he arose, he looked down and a pout formed on his face. "Now my knees are muddied but as it bought me my life, I suppose it is a small price to pay. Your servant there muddied his knees in service to you, and won my duchy for his prize, I am told. Except he will continue to pay that price, will he not, with muddied knees?"

Andrew scowled, but still kept quiet. He was not here in a personal role, he was the King's guard.

"Look upon him well." the King said. "When you betrayed me, he kept his oath, and it was a smaller oath than yours. You could learn much from him."

"Should I ever desire to play with the royal scepter, I shall indeed most humbly request his instructions." Montaigne said.

"For this insolence, I deny you the right to rule Sheredov, and to pass that right down to your eldest son." the King said. "Your younger son shall hold that fief and you may sit at his table if he will tolerate you there, as his seneschal. Mayhaps he can instill in you yet some loyalty so sadly lacking. But you are to journey to Sheredov, and never leave that land again. Now take this insolent dog away from my sight."

Montaigne was led away, and the King rose. "Glad is my heart that we had to sacrifice so few." he said. "Now I wish to return to the house and rest for the remainder of the day. Let my servants make preparations for the return to Heslov and my palace. I would leave here with my Danish allies about me on the morrow. Let all make ready for the departure."

The King smiled to Andrew when they were alone at the chair, for his other retainers had set out for their various destinations. "See how simple it was to arrange that? No doubt when the other lords come before me, they shall make some similar gaffe that I can turn to my account. I must have a clean sweep of the rebels, for all that custom decrees I should accept them back into my court. Anything less, and we would be faced with another rebellion in a few years' time. And I was able to proclaim the plan in front of the young nobles, whose minds will now turn to thinking of how they can profit by their renewed loyalty."

"As you say, Sire." Andrew said.

"Come, let us return to the house, where you can find some rest, for I know you slept poorly last night, as did I."

Inside, the King sought out the privy, and laid a hand on Andrew's shoulder when he would have followed his liege into the small room holding the "chaise de perce." "In here, at least, I shall be safe and do wish a brief privacy from you." he said, smiling. "Go back to the main room and visit with your father, and I shall join you there."

"Yes, Sire." Andrew said, and bowed.

His father was seated at the fire, now wearing a thick golden necklace, one Andrew recognized as being stripped from Lord Montaigne, for it was the mark of the Duke of Heslov. "Good afternoon, father." he said.

"Sit, my son." his father said. "How are you this day?"

Andrew smiled faintly. "I have a place of honor, but I wish it had not come at such a price. Father, what did I do wrong, that I should be hated so?"

"You think of Renaud?"

"Yea, verily."

"You dissembled before him, and took a position in his house as a servant, even though your first loyalty lay elsewhere. Why should he not hate you, when a servant is often the only one a nobleman may trust?"

"But what would you have done, Father, in my place?"

"I would have done as you, the very same." his father assured him.

"Trevish said I should have kept my heart back." Andrew said. "I tried thus, truly, but found that friendship arose just the same. How can I get Renaud to trust me once again?"

"He will come in time to forgive, or not, as that may be. But it lies not within your power to change his heart, it needs must come from within. You have still your oath to His Majesty, let that fill your heart and the void left by the loss of your loyalty for Renaud."

"Father, Renaud and I...were more than master and servant, or friend." Andrew admitted hesitantly.

His father smiled. "I know. As are you and the King. It marks you only as a true son of Carlovain and I did thus in my youth."

"How fares Renaud? Have you heard?"

"The physician has successfully staunched his wound, which was grievous. He now lies in the fever and will survive it or not, as it may be. It is out of your hands, and mine. He has been turned over to the Merlemagnists for care." His father mentioned an order of monks that were dedicated to caring for the sick and wounded, and well-known for their healing arts; it eased Andrew's heart greatly to hear Renaud was with them, rather than at the mercy of the prison guards and their indifferent hands.

"Now you must turn your hand to healing another wound." his father went on.

"What wound is that?"

"The wounded heart of the King." the father said.

"I do not understand." Andrew frowned. "He has regained his throne."

"But he knows, as well as I, that this rebellion was his own doing."

"What?" Andrew was astonished. "What did he do to cause the rebellion?"

"A king has many duties. One of these is to always gauge the results of his actions. When he saw how the French lords' loyalties had wandered from him, he should have rebound them to him by taking one of their daughters for his wife. He could have made Montaigne his ally by taking his youngest daughter, the sister of the current Lord, for I know she was offered to him. But he chose not to. Now, instead of an ally by dint of common blood, he and Montaigne are bitter foes, and with Montaigne, much of Carlovain."

"He has chosen to cast them all down." Andrew said. "He intends to let the younger sons inherit, and earn their loyalty."

His father frowned. "That will be a difficult road, if indeed it can be traveled at all. He has also joined us in an alliance with Denmark, which is a land much troubled as are all the larger kingdoms of Europe. Carlovain is strongest when it stands apart from Europe. Our greatest strength has always been that we were apart from the many bickerings of the other lands about us."

"You speak truth." the King said as he entered the room. Andrew sprang to his feet. "Nay, sit again, for there is another chair here, and I would discuss this with you both, since one of you now holds the land nearest my palace, and the other wards my life."

"We meant no disloyalty to you, Sire." his father said.

The King waved it off. "In my house and in private, at least, let honest words never fear to display themselves. If my ministers dare not speak plainly to me, I am indeed lost. And you are aright, I should have married Montaigne's daughter when she was offered, but that was ten years ago, when I was but Andrew's age, and I was as unready to give my heart then to a woman as he is now, or you would have been at his age."

His father smiled. "It is true that marriage is a bane to the very young, and a comfort to the old such as myself."

"I should have borne the bane, but I thought I could postpone the day, and Lord Montaigne gave her to another and there was not another suitable among the French lords to marry. So I postponed yet again, and then came the day when the rebellion was begun."

The King settled in, not in the third, free chair, but beside Andrew, who was seated on a love-seat-sized couch, waved for a servant to bring him a drink. Andrew dared to do the same when his father also nodded. He would have to get used to being the one served rather than serving!

"What then, of the new Queen?" Andrew asked. "How does she fit into these plans?" he asked as they were given their drinks.

"I wish now I could renounce the oath, but it was taken too solemnly to permit that." the King said. "The fact that your message meant we had little or no need for the Danish soldiers does not remove the fact that I have asked for them, and that they were given as part of her dowry. Now I must become enmeshed within the politics of Europe for a space, but I shall keep it as small as I well can. King Christian shall have his men from me, and the Lady Luise shall bear my heir, but I shall contract as quickly as can be for the children to all be wed to Carlovain noblemen, both French and Neresterii. Until then, we must dance to keep our footing as best we can, and let Grand Duke Charles fear Danish intervention should he try to seize our land. But I do not disdain the alliance entirely. Carlovain cannot continue in its innocent isolation, we must strive instead for a careful neutrality with the nations of Europe. If we can preserve our freedom through the days that lie ahead, there will come the day when that freedom shall be taken as ordained by God, as the French have done through Jehane D'Arc. Then none shall think of intruding."

"Can there be such a day?" Andrew's father frowned. "With all the noblemen of France seeking alliances and combining their duchies into kingdoms and dismantling them again when no heir is born to the house?"

"You have not looked as far ahead as I have." the King said. "The feudal system is dying and withering, in the manner of an overripe grape upon the vine, void of its juices and scorned even by the birds. It is being replaced by a new force, nationalism, where the primary loyalty of the common man is not to his lord, but to his country. I studied it while in England, and even have had a copy of their Great Charter made to study and use for my own. Carlovain shall have the same if it lies in my power to do so. I shall form a House of Lords and a House of the People as they have, and submit myself to its authority, and in doing so, shall cause all the lords to do so. It is why I want young heads at all the fiefs, for they can be caught up in this vision if I present it to them in the right way. We shall not live to see it, but our children's children shall, the day when anyone will look at how we lurch and stumble with our alliances and changing fiefdoms and marvel at why we chose to live this way at all. Then this crown upon my head shall be placed in a glass case to be stared at by the populace as an historical oddity." The King smiled. "My successors may even have to work for a living."

Andrew thought on this, and then shook his head. "You have given me permission to speak to you freely, and I shall. I cannot countenance this, that we shall become governed by, by shopkeepers and peasants. You are the leader, and your lords with you, and that is as it should be."

The King smiled. "If I cannot convince even you, then my project is indeed doomed. I shall merely point out that you were once a member of the very group of whom you now speak with scorn, and your loyalty and judgment has proven the salvation of Carlovain. But let us speak of this more in another time. For now, shall we retire and nap a space? There shall be a banquet tonight for the lords who have again sworn their allegiance, so we shall be up late into the night and must be of good cheer throughout."

Andrew rose. "Of course, Sire." He polished off his drink and looked around, saw his mother standing nearby and handed her the empty goblet. "What say you to this plan of the King's, mother?" he asked in jest. "You should speak up, for in his current mood, he may even let women have a hand in ruling this country. Would you like that?"

"Nay, I would not." his mother said quickly and vehemently. "I am His Majesty's servant, and that is honor enough. A woman's place is in the home, not at the council table!"

"Aye, the home, from whence she can reach farther than one would think." his father said. "Be not deceived for a moment but that she shall put her hand to ruling my duchy the moment we set foot there."

His mother looked at him with a frown, that softened and turned into a smile. "Well, someone has to handle things while you are busy drinking and trading stories. It may as well be me, who has none but your best interests at heart."

"By my father's beard, I think she would like to be a member of your Privy Council!" his father roared with laughter.

"Well, maybe I would, at that." his mother replied. "Better a sensible woman there than a senseless drunkard! And how many goblets have you drunk this afternoon, anyway? This wine is stronger than the ale we made ourselves at the tavern; I told you to water it down...."

Andrew laughed as well, as he followed his King to the bedchamber.

"Your father and mother fight thus every day, do they not?" the King asked. "They have for the time they have been with me."

"Aye, I understand it not, save that it suits them." Andrew said. "They fight, and later it is as if they have never fought at all, but instead have spoken words of loving adoration."

"I shall have to find a similar meter with the new Queen." the King sighed. "I have my reports upon her, and I am told she is a strong-willed woman with a sharp tongue."

"It seems to me you told me on our first day together that you sought such a woman."

"True, but will her tongue work for her father, or for me?" the King said as they made it to their chamber, the same, smaller room they had used the night before. But the bed was ample sized, and could have slept four or six, even, in times of need. "And if it be not for me, how can it be but against me?"

"I shall cut it out from her, if need be." Andrew said. "Let her mumble her scorn to you instead."

"I shall remember these words, for I may have need to rely upon them." the King chuckled.

"Her tongue worries me not, for I am immune to it thanks to my mother." Andrew said. "It is how she shall occupy your bed that worries me. Am I to sleep at your foot while you make love to her, and be silent?"

"I shall dismiss you upon those nights, and you may seek your own pleasures. The Ambassador himself spoke to me upon this subject, and we agreed as part of the contract that I would sleep with her three nights a week until an heir was born, when I may make it but two, and then upon the second child, may let her go entire if she please me not. I told him to let her know that if she did not enjoy my bed, she could take her gallants or even dally with her own maidservants, so long as she was discreet and bore no children save to me. We shall find a balance, and may in time, form a bond, but that is not necessary." the King laid his hand upon Andrew. "Know that you may trust me in this, my dearest friend, for I shall never forget that when this crown was snatched from my head, it was you who placed it back there once again." The King took his crown, a mere circlet of office, from his head and placed it jokingly upon Andrew's head. "I dub thee my Royal Consort and here is your crown of office."

Andrew smiled. "Then I shall need use of the scepter as well, as the new Earl of Shederov so kindly pointed out to you earlier."

"Nay, you have one already, and it is that I am in need of." the King said. "I remember now that first day we met, and would once again feel your strength against me. For this next hour, you be King and I your humble servant."

"Better yet, we shall be two men together." Andrew said, placing the crown upon the writing-table near the bed, and took the King in his arms.

"That is all I truly ask of you." the King sighed as Andrew's lips found his neck.

The clothes fell from their bodies willingly, Andrew pulling them from the King as well as himself, dallying not with kisses or caresses, but stripping him as quickly as he could. When he was done, he said, "Now, you are but a man, as am I." He stepped and their erections brushed against each other. "Let us be Neresterii now, and give ourselves to each other while laughing at the words of shame others would try to use against us. We are warriors and make love the way we fight, proudly."

Andrew took the upper hand by overbearing the King in his arms so that they fell back onto the bed, the King's turgid prong stabbing him almost painfully in the stomach as they landed in this heavy pile.

Their lips met and tongues pressed into each other with complete abandon, tasting each other, giving themselves to each other, while Andrew continued to grind himself against the King's lithe white body, tasting his skin, letting his tongue rasp over the hairs on his ample chest, lifting with his arms the legs to wrap around his waist.

"Faugh, I am a fool." the King gasped. "I bought oil enough, but it is all in that other room, where we were to have stayed. I should have guided us there."

"It matters not." Andrew said. "We shall deal with this as we did last night." And Andrew climbed up his King's body to sit upon the hairy chest which prickled his tender thighs and buttocks, and with his hand he brushed his cockhead over the thin lips. "You may minister to this as you will for a space, but be not overlong about it, for my need is upon me."

The King, apparently gleeful with this mastery over him, went ardently to the task, taking Andrew's cockhead into his mouth and Andrew let him work it for a time, then leaned forward and rested his upper body on his hands, and then lifted his knees and began to fuck himself downward into his sovereign's mouth, letting the warm water there wash over him, plunging into the depths of the oral cavern to bathe there completely. The King was compliant and devoted to him in this moment of service, for his mouth plied copiously upon him and soon enough, Andrew's cock was fully imbedded inside of him and could move in and out at will without a sound of protest or discomfort.

"That shall be sufficient." he gasped after a time of this, though he was loathe to leave this warmth, another orifice beckoned to him and it was just as soft and inviting.

He felt the cool air of autumn upon his wet prick as he lifted back onto his knees and hefted it out of the King's clutching maw, and Andrew saw the shiny silken strand of moisture that depended from his cockhead down into the King's mouth, linking them thus, a crystal bead slowly slipping down it. Andrew waited only until this bead rested upon the King's pink tongue, and then he moved, breaking the rope which turned into a line of glitter upon his chin and down onto his neck, and Andrew now lifted again the legs which wrapped eagerly about his waist, and Andrew felt the regal hands guiding his manhood into the narrow crevice and finding there the clutching sphincter eagerly seeking him. It was easy, a matter of moments and he pushed again into the King's body, only the second time they had joined in this way, the first being that long-ago afternoon, when Andrew was a common peasant and the King a fugitive on the run.

"So let it be again." he said as he remembered this. "I am but a stableboy and you a traveler without funds to spend for me. You give me your body as a means to gain food and rest for the night, the only coin you have about you."

"Yes, kind sir, yes." the King crooned, for it was obvious that day was plain in his mind as well. "None other than you have taken this of me, I swear it. Now I can admit it to you, you tore me entire on that morning long ago, and now I crave it once again, you and only you to take this part of my body, for it is yours, and will be for as long as I live."

Andrew winced a little when he heard this, for he could not make the same return. But that was only to be expected, the King knew what he had done, and done in his service. "And I take it gratefully." he settled for saying. "Your own special gift, more beautiful than all the gold of the realm, better than the honors you have bestowed is this, your gift of yourself."

"Now, my wonderful young Lord of Heslov, drive into me with the fury I remember from you, give me roughness in this, the only place I can permit it. Take me, for I am yours in this, yours alone."

Andrew needed no more urging, he felt his balls grumble in tumescent desire, he lifted the King's body upwards with his hands at the King's lower back, and began to hump into him lustily, not holding back his strength in this, for the King needed it, and what the King wanted, it was his if Andrew had it to give, and in this, he had aplenty.

His thighs slapped audibly against the King's buttocks, a hearty, wetly-thumping sound, and the King echoed each slap with a grunt of appreciation, as his eyes sparkled and his lips parted and his face softened into submissive need fulfilled.

"Ah, ah, my stud, my stallion Lord!" he gasped after a time. "I cannot withhold my seed for long, pray, fill me with your own with all haste, ere I be a limp and unresponsive lover in your moment of completion."

Andrew groaned in response, for his own need was full upon him, and he took this for the permission to let it take him, he fucked the King even more energetically and saw the King's face flush red and his own face heated as well until it felt as if his cheeks shone redly.

"Ah, Sire, ah, ah!" he groaned. "It arrives for you, Sire, my pleasure and my seed, I cannot contain it more."

"Do not contain it. Give it me, give it me!" the King begged. "Ah, ah-hankh!" and he squirted them both with his climax, pelting Andrew's stomach and chest with his burningly-hot load, and Andrew groaned, his mind glowing like the wind when dandelion seeds break loose and fill the air with white shimmering canopies, they danced around him as if in a whirlwind, and he was lifted out of his own body for a time, and if was as if he floated above himself, though senseless otherwise, and his climax took his vulnerable soul and ravaged it there with sharp claws of pleasure, and then dropped the tatters back into his empty receptacle of a body, and there it quivered and bled moistly in his every pore.

He felt the King's legs, slick with sweat, slide down his own legs to find rest upon the bed, and he felt, too, his withered cock slide out to flop damply upon the bedding, and realized that he was resting all his weight upon his sovereign Lord, and he raised himself up on his elbows, feebly, and still panting, looked down into the still-red face flushed with spent passion.

The King had never looked more handsome to him than in this moment, not more worthy of his loyalty than now, as he lay beneath his own naked body, their fluids intermixing into one being, their breaths combining so that every breath he expelled went to the King's own lungs, and was breathed out again, to be taken into his own.

He reached up and tenderly pushed back a lock of the King's black hair off his forehead, and the King opened his eyes and smiled up into him. "I said to take me roughly, and you did." he sighed. "And it was as wonderful as my memory bade it was. I feared I had romanticized it in my long time apart from you. Never leave me again, my dearest friend, I could not bear it."

"I shall always be with you." Andrew promised. "So long as I am welcome, I am here."

The King was silent, then chuckled.

"What is it?" Andrew asked softly.

"I would not put you at the foot of the bed." the King said. "I would put you at my other side, so that when the Queen and I took our pleasure, you could enter me as you have and help me to complete my duties with her. I shall approach this subject with her if we find our marital commerce to be wearisome or difficult."

"I am yours, Sire, to serve you as you would." Andrew smiled.

"Then serve me by sleeping with me for now, for I am truly weary." the King said. "Your mother shall come to wake us in another two hours' time, for then I must return to my duties."

"Not alone." Andrew said. He shifted and rose only to place the King beneath the covers before joining him in slumber.

The banquet that night was a tolerable affair, and Andrew sat at the King's left-hand side as befit his new station. The King prefaced it while the dishes were brought in by speaking in generalities of his plans, stating that he "needed to find loyal men to fill my court once I have placed the rebel lords into exile or limited them as I have the Earl of Shederov, and their first sons usually were fighting by their side and are not worthy replacements. So I turn to you, who never rose up a hand against me, whose loyalty was only swayed by your needs, and now I can since your oaths are reaffirmed tell you that I am in need of your help in the days to come, and shall remember those who aid me most generously."

The young nobles, who were quick to seize upon any word such as this, cheered him heartily, and Andrew found most of them willing to forget the last few weeks had ever happened, toasting him loyally and finding a hundred small means to convey their eagerness to please him and to joust with others for his favor. Andrew himself treated by them as if he had never fetched them drinks in Renaud's presence, or that they had never looked upon him those short hours before with scorn. Perhaps he would not be as hunted after all. At least not by these men, though many of the Lords the King intended to depose would seek a more vulnerable target than the sovereign.

The King was obliged to drink at every toast, and after a time, the wine began to tell upon him. The banquet was winding down, but as their host, he could not leave until they all left.

"Shall I ask them to leave, Sire?" he whispered at an opportune moment.

"I would be grateful, but we must do it with diplomacy." the King said. "Usually my banquets last much longer than this, but these days have been hard and the months ahead shall not be easier."

"I shall speak for you." Andrew said. He rose and tapped his goblet with his knife, making a bell-ringing sound, and the audience quieted.

"My friends, these days have been filled with events, and more are upon us. We should all seek our rest now, and prepare for our departure back to Heslov in the morn. May I suggest, then, that we not stand upon ceremony, but instead let us find a means to conclude this night in mutual respect and honor at this time."

There was a buzz and then one of the nobles said, "What about the eveningsong? I did not hear it at sunset."

The King raised his head. "That is true, it has not been sung during the...all this time. I shall reinstitute it upon my return to Heslov, of course, when my Guards sing it, but I have few of them here. Will all of you substitute for my Guards, then? Adomeh, would you lead these young men in the words and keep the melody for them? You have a wonderfully smooth singing voice, I know."

Adomeh, who was seated well down the table from them, arose and with Trevish's aid, a humming warm-up began, for the first verse was always hummed in this way, a non-vocal prelude.

"Do you know the words of the song?" the King asked.

"Yes, but I understand them little." Andrew admitted. "It is beautiful, but seems without much meaning."

"It is because you listen to the song not with your ears, but with your heart. It was given to us by the noble Bansel upon his return to Carlovain after many years of banishment. He had been sent away by my ancestor Phillippe I, and after working on Carlovain's behalf at the courts of Paris and Rome, was forgiven in honor of his service, and permitted to return. He walked onto the land at sunset from the boat, sang the song there and, having taken ill at his long journey, died that same night. We honor his service and memory with his song, which is the joy of an exile at returning to our land. Listen and remember him."

Adomeh had warmed them up, now they gave with their song, which though they sung it always in French, rhymed only in the Neresterii tongue:

My Carlovain, the seas shine silver,

My Carlovain, the skies glow gold,

But their promise of fortune never compare,

To you, for you, my own.

My Carlovain, your hills call to me,

My Carlovain, trees speak my name,

They call me back to them forever more,

To you, for you, my own.

"Ah, the melody is too much like a lullaby." the King sighed. "I have drunk too much. I must sit erect until they leave. May I lean upon you lest I fall?"

"You may rely upon me, my Lord." Andrew said and surreptitiously shifted his body so that the King was against him.

"Yes, I know." the King sighed and his head lolled back slightly. Fatigued as he was, and numbed by the wine, he had fallen quite asleep. Andrew carefully moved so that the King's head, its back resting on the chair's back, appeared more erect and then returned his attention to the song, singing it with the others. He need only endure a short time, and it would be over.

My Carlovain, I'll never leave you,

My Carlovain, no more to roam,

Your halls and homes are all I need to live,

With you, for you, my own."

My Carlovain, I'll always love you,

My Carlovain, defend your life,

My Carlovain, you will never suffer,

While here I stand!

Upon this land!

Here for my life!

Here always more!

Here for my home!

My very own!

My Carlovain!

THE END

[COMING IN THE SUMMER OF 2000, "THE KNIGHT OF CARLOVAIN"]