Date: Sun, 31 Jul 2011 18:36:29 -0400
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile Chapter 20

THE EXILE
A Gay Fantasy Experiment

CHAPTER TWENTY

A few nights ago I could not sleep, but tossed and turned instead on my bed
and found no comfort in the silken sheets of royal purple hue. At length I
gave up my struggle for rest and arose, wrapping a thick robe around my
nakedness to keep out the chill of the mountain air. I walked the palace
grounds in the dead of night, seeking meditation and wisdom in the silence
of the usually busy halls. My personal guard knew me well enough to give me
space to breathe, and took caution to remain unheard and
unseen. Considering their massive size, this was no small feat, and I found
myself duly grateful.

I have lived in this royal complex for many years now. When first I had
arrived it had seemed foreign to me, too large and too opulent and
definitely too high up, built as it is into the mountains above the city
proper. Then, too, there are memories here that I would have escaped if I
could, and though I was persuaded that the Heir of Alander could live no
place else there are still rooms I will not enter. Still, in time the
complex became my home, as familiar and welcoming as the small room in my
village that had been mine as a child, the room where Pasha first slept by
my side. But that night it suddenly seemed foreign, and as I walked through
the elaborate passageways that, with their missing wall, look out the very
side of the mountain onto the expanse of the city below, I felt like a
stranger once again to this place. That's when I knew.

The time has come.

In the morning I announced I would immediately undertake to tour the lands
and visit all the cities that call me king and master, and the last several
days have been bustling with the energy of the preparation for this
journey. It will be the last time I look upon my dominions, though of
course my advisers do not yet know this. I must make sure everything is in
place, my plans set into motion. And then I will go.

I can tell no one what I intend. Not even you, my special one. I must leave
you behind, for where I go you cannot follow. When you read this, as I am
sure now that one day you will, I hope you will understand.
_____________________________________________________________________

The night after Shara left for her journey north I could not sleep
either. Instead I walked through the dark streets of what remained of my
village, threading my way through mostly abandoned houses and buildings to
the site where the temple had once stood. It was a pile of ash and charred
wood now, and though even now the sight was something of shock to behold I
was relieved to see that the debris had buried the entrance to the tunnel
that led to Alander's tomb. The thought that the man might now rest
undisturbed forever more was comforting to me, somehow.

For me, however, there was no rest. "It is not an easy thing I am asking of
you," I had said to Shara the day before, "But there is no one else." I had
explained my plan to her in great detail, and we had both questioned Cedrik
at length regarding the situation in the city. She understood her mission,
and she had handpicked a few of our militia to accompany her as her guard -
all women, of course. All necessary preparations had been made. It was the
point of no return.

"Perhaps the risk is too great," I said, suddenly doubting myself.

"The risk will have been worth it if I succeed," she had replied
confidently, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She was dressed as a
warrior, a bow slung over her shoulder and two long knives at her belt. I
did not doubt her skills, not for a second, but suddenly I felt the whole
idea was madness. I could be delivering her straight into the hands my
enemies.

"And if you do not? If the worst should happen? How can I bear knowing I
caused your death?"

She frowned, and I remember her brow creasing in anger. "I'm not a child,
Markis. You are the son of power. I serve you with all my heart because it
is my choice to do so. I go on my own free will, and if I die then my death
is my own failure, not yours."

Staring at the remains of the temple, I remembered her words and shook my
head. Shara was acting on my behalf, for my cause, and at my
request. Should she perish, I would blame myself and nobody else. I toed
the temple's ashes with my boot and pondered on the many things I had
already destroyed.

I did not hear him until he was almost upon me, approaching from behind. I
whirled, thinking it was Alek, but the shape was not his. The figure was
wreathed in shadow, and it took a few more steps before my eyes could make
out his features clearly. Valen nodded to me respectfully and came to stand
at my side, joining me in surveying the debris.

"Can't sleep either?" I said at last, crossing my arms across my chest to
keep out a sudden evening chill.

"As usual," he replied. He had come directly from bathing, it seemed, for
his hair was still wet and hung heavily down his neck. "I have rarely slept
a peaceful night since the crown first touched my head. Kings do not have
the luxury of rest -- as you will come to learn."

I said nothing to that, but thought again of Shara and of all the other
people whose lives were now in my hands. I knew he was right, and the
realization wearied me. But behind his words was something further, a
subtle indication that he now accepted me as a peer, a king like himself.

"She might die," I said bitterly, "One of my oldest friends, and I must
risk her life to serve my own ends. As if I have not hurt her enough. She
loves me. She loves me as much as I loved her brother, though neither of us
had our love returned. I'm taking advantage of that love to get what I
want, but still she insists it is her own choice and I am not to blame
should she come to harm."

I wasn't looking at him, but I heard the smile in his voice. "I remember
somebody else insisting the same thing, the night before I sent him into my
wife's hands."

I, too, remembered that night. I could recall the look of torture on
Valen's face as he contemplated what must be done, the guilt in his voice
even as I had tried to comfort him. "And I remember you saying how
difficult it was to use me," I replied, "I did not understand fully what
you meant until today."

"A good king must have the strongest morals," Valen said wisftfully, "but
he must also have the courage to break them when the greater good
demands. He must inspire unwavering loyalty from those around him, but he
himself must be loyal to his people as a whole above any individual
person. One man or woman is a small sacrifice for the greater good, but
this is not easy to bear. This is why for idealistic men such as you and I
the price of power is so high. It is why we must face so many restless
nights like these."

"You said once that a good king could not also be a good man." I looked at
the temple ruins and clenched my jaw. "You are wrong. I hope you are
wrong." He smiled at me sadly, and I couldn't stand looking him any
longer. It was like looking through time at my future self, and I did not
like what I saw. Had I actually possessed the power to peer through time,
as the Seeress claimed in part do, and had seen myself as I am now (old,
tired, worn down by the terrible weight of my power), I fear I would be no
less displeased. I turned to leave.

"Markis," he said softly, causing me stop mid-step and turn back to
him. "The night is cold and the lives of kings are too often lonely. Will
you... will you share my bed again tonight?" The question was barely
whispered, and I would never have even heard it had the village not been so
perfectly still and quiet.

The night we had spent together came back to me suddenly, and I could
remember the heat of Valen's skin and the thick hair on his chest. The hair
on the back of my neck rose as I recalled the pressure of his body next to
mine on that night that already seemed like ancient history. I had been no
more than a boy then, knowing nothing of the path in store for me, caring
for nothing other than the joy of feeling a man I admired wrap his arms
around me. Somehow I knew he was inviting me to share more than his bed,
this time. Valen had never professed a carnal interest in men before, and
there had been nothing passionate about that night when we had shared each
other's company, but I knew instinctively that at that moment he was
willing to step into deeper territory. Perhaps it was loneliness and
weariness of his long struggle with women that was driving his thoughts
towards men, as it had, I believed, for Alek. For my part, I felt the
desire for companionship well within me and for a moment I considered
accepting his offer. But only for a moment.

"Did you really imprison women?" I asked suddenly, painfully, "Did you let
men commit rape in your name and do nothing to stop it?"

He paled, struck deeply by my words. He had nothing to say, but the guilt
was plain on his face. I turned and left him there, striding away
quickly. I didn't look back.

I thought Damon would cure my loneliness, at least temporarily, but when I
returned to my room Pasha was there instead. I was surprised to see him,
for I had kept him at some distance since discovering Alek thought he was
my new romance. Pasha jumped up guiltily as I entered and began vomiting
out words before I could say anything.

"I was just, um..." he sputtered, reddening in the face, "I hope you don't
mind, but I was just waiting here for you to get back because I wanted to
ask you... I wanted to ask... you see, I was wondering... Do you... do you
need anything? I feel so useless lately. Can I do anything to help you?"

I smiled, and when he saw my face he smiled in return, still blushing.

"It doesn't have to be... like that," he said, "I just want to do something
helpful, you know? I can't fight, I don't know anything about politics or
strategy. But I'm a good aide. Ambassador Hollis used to criticize me
harshly, sometimes, but even he admitted I was good at assisting him and
anticipating his needs. I could... I could work for you. I could do your
errands, deliver messages, clean and cook. You have enough on your mind,
let me deal with the little things."

"I don't need a slave," I protested. I thought of Damon, and quietly
reflected that I already had servants enough for any man to endure.

"Not a slave," he explained quickly, "An assistant. A clerk. You are a king
now and people will expect you to start acting like one. Well, kings have
people to do things for them. You don't see kings washing their own
breeches, do you?"

"A clerk. Like Cedrik is for Valen," I remembered, considering the idea.

"Exactly. I think I'm perfect for the job." He swallowed nervously and
continued, "Anyway, there have been... rumors about us. You and me, I
mean."

"That we are lovers," I said flatly.

The red in his cheeks darkened. "Yes. People have asked me.... but I told
them it wasn't true. I don't know if they believe me. My Veruvian friends
definitely don't. Still, if you make me your clerk it might look
better. You know. Clear everything up. I thought you would prefer that. I
don't know. You are the king and nobody should care if you take a lover or
not."

"Perhaps they shouldn't," I agreed, "But they do. Particularly if that
lover is another man. The people of my tribe have come a long way in the
last few weeks but they are not likely to be ready to accept that just
yet."

I frowned at the thought. Things between Alek and I had been finished
before I had attracted a following, and now that he was known to be
Jelena's that secret was likely safe. But surely the rumors regarding Pasha
were already making their way through my brethren who now accepted me as
their leader. Many of them had no doubt already realized why I could not
consummate my marriage to Shara, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment
knowing my deepest secret had now been exposed. Would they abandon me,
unable to believe their promised son of power could be such an aberration?
I shook my head. I had not come back to face my people just to hide my true
self from them as I had once done. I realized then I would have to talk to
them and explain everything.

"Your father isn't exactly comfortable with the idea either," I reminded
him.

He sighed and looked away. "That's part of it," he admitted, "He hasn't
said anything but I can tell.... If you give me a position of
responsibility, even if its cleaning your boots, I think maybe it will give
him something to be proud of me for. At least I'll be able to talk about
you around him without him turning to stone."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Markis, before you brought us back together he had disowned me
forever. That's behind us now, but it doesn't make everything between us
just go away. He doesn't understand that part of me. He can't. I mean, does
your father?"

I considered the question silently with an uneasy feeling that I knew the
answer.

"Accept me as your clerk," Pasha insisted again, "It won't stop the rumors,
but it will at least calm them. And then maybe I'll stop feeling so
useless."

His plea was so endearing that I could not have refused him. I ruffled his
hair then and agreed, kissing his cheek tenderly and laughing when he
flushed red in response. The next day, when my small council gathered I
introduced him as my new clerk. Alek smiled at me, beaming his approval in
a way that I preferred to ignore, and Stepan's face revealed decidedly
mixed feelings. Amongst the others, there were eyebrows raised, of course,
and the Veruvians smirked at Pasha shamelessly, but nobody uttered a word
of complaint.

And then, that afternoon, when I met with the elders of my tribe around my
father's sickbed, I knew I could delay the inevitable no longer. I invited
them to ask the question that had been plaguing their minds since the day I
was exiled.

"Sha'Eluid. Tell us: why did you refuse your bride?" they asked me. It was
not an easy question for them to bring up. Their one remaining doubt in me
was, of course, the stark fact of my disobedience, for they still conceived
as the awaited son of power as the epitome of their tradition and not, as
was actually the case, the destroyer of it.

Without thinking, I looked to my father for his reaction. He said nothing
in response to the question, but stared deeply at me in expectation. I was
all too conscious of his eyes on me as I gathered my thoughts.

"Let me ask you a question in return," I said to them at last, "Consider
the plight of a man who, with good intentions but perhaps with little
wisdom, promises to give a friend a great treasure in his possession in
exchange for a gem of equal value. On the day of transaction, the man goes
to his vault to retrieve the treasure, only to discover he has made a great
error. The treasure is not there, and never was. He does not even own the
thing he has promised to give. Tell me then, what is the most honorable
course for such a man? Should he hide his mistake from his friend, offer a
counterfeit, receive the true gem in trade?"

The elders grumbled and murmured to each other. They saw where this was
going, but were unable to give any response but the one I had expected:
"Not at all. Such a man should confess to his friend and call off the deal,
accepting the shame that comes with his mistake."

"Precisely," I replied, "I had promised Shara my eternal love and my
participation in a union between our bodies and our souls. On the day of
our marriage ritual, I discovered a secret I had kept even from myself. I
could not offer her my love, my devotion, my passion. It was not there to
give. And why not? For generations we have taught that the Omnipotence
created man and woman as two parts of a greater whole, designed with a
wisdom we cannot comprehend to fit together as two pieces of puzzle are
joined together to create a complete image. But surely not all pieces are
exactly the same, and we who cannot comprehend the wisdom of the Creator
surely cannot claim to know the endless variations and permutations of the
Created world. Let us then consider the possibility that some men are, for
reasons we also cannot comprehend, made differently, designed to fit
together in other ways."

Silence. My father watched on with eyebrows raised, tears glistening in his
eyes, hands shaking. The elders of my tribe stared at each other in
confusion and dismay as they struggled to process my words.

"What you speak of," one of the elders said cautiously, "This has always
been abomination amongst us, under the law."

"I am the son of power, awakened to my purpose and my destiny," I said with
finality, "The law is fulfilled in me, and is no more."

I spoke with conviction and Truth. They had no response but
amazement. Eventually, after I had spoke more on other topics, the somewhat
dazed elders left, leaving me alone with my father. He too said nothing,
for he had been speaking less and less since the destruction of the temple
and the division of our people, instead reserving his strength. Jelena
insisted his progress was hopeful, but not certain.

With sudden affection, I longed to tell my father that I loved him, but the
words stuck in my throat. He must have seen something in my face, however,
for he beckoned me near. With his trembling hand he stroked my face, then
touched the top of my head in benediction. I gripped his other hand and sat
with him in silence until he fell asleep. Only then did I myself take my
leave, feeling light of heart and with a smile on my face as I returned to
Pasha and my own room.

That night my father died.
_______________________________________________________________________

We journey now to Fermanagh, which is to be the first leg of my final tour
of my kingdoms. During the days of travel, I have had time to reflect on my
father and his legacy. There were only the two of us, from the
beginning. With my mother dead and no children of their union save myself,
we had only each other. He raised me to the best of his ability, and
despite whatever disagreements we may have had I cannot deny that it was
his example and the lessons he taught me that lay at the heart of anything
in my life that I can consider to be an accomplishment.

He taught me to love justice and to prize selflessness, to protect the weak
and hate greed. I could never have become the heir of Alander without these
things. So many years have passed since his parting, and yet tonight I have
wept again at my memories. When I think of him, and of Jacek, and Alek, and
all the others, how can I not?

But for the first time in many years, the tears are not so much due to
grief of their loss as they are of gratitude for the time I had them. This
is progress, at the least.
______________________________________________________________________

We had planned to follow after Shara within a fortnight, but delayed nearly
a month to make preparations for my father's funeral. I will not say that
grieving his passing was easy, but the blow was softened somewhat by the
realization that we had reconciled to each other before it was too late. My
friends were an endless source of comfort; even Alek spent a full day with
me, sharing my grief and offering his support. Then, too, I sought peace in
the vision I had had of creation, and in knowing that everything was
connected I knew that my father had now rejoined that formless Source from
which all things originate and to which we all would one day return.

So I said in my eulogy as well, and I like to think my people were
comforted as well by this idea. After the ceremony was finished and his
body laid to rest, the elders (to my frustration) sought to have me
confirmed as High Priest in his place, saying it was time to take my
traditional place as head of our faith.

"You have understood nothing," I said, not as patiently as I should have,
"There are no more High Priests just as there are no more temples. These
things have no more purpose. I would have you each be High Priests unto
yourselves."

They were still digesting that when, nearly a week later, we departed the
ruins of our village and headed north. We were by no means a vast army, but
our host had grown considerably from the addition of the brothers and
sisters of my tribe and so our progress was slowed. It took us nearly
another week to reach the edge of the forest that opened up into the open
plains surrounding Fermanagh. I was surprised to find I could look up into
the wide open sky and feel only a small remnant of the fear that had once
overwhelmed me when first I left our forest. Another reminder that I was no
longer quite the same man as before.

Early on the morning of our first day on the plains, our scouts brought
word that a small group of riders approached us from the north - all
female. I called for our troops to set up defensive positions, but I was
not too concerned. From the reports, their numbers were few and I was
hopeful that they did not intend to start a fight.

I was not wrong. When the riders came into view at last, I quickly spotted
Shara and her escorts from our village. With them were fierce looking women
who were clearly members of the Queen's amazarii. I felt dizzy with elation
and relief - Shara had succeeded in her mission, and the rest was up to
me. She nodded to me happily, relieved to have completed her task. I
thought with sadness that she did not yet know about my father and that
soon I would have to break the news to her. But first there were more
pressing tasks ahead.

I received the amazarii graciously, but they had no patience for
courtesy. "Speak your mind, male," said one, who clearly appeared to be
their leader, "Or we will leave."

"Very well, then," I replied, "Straight to the point. Valessa is your
Queen, and you are sworn to obey her in all things. And yet I wonder if all
her amazarii agree with her objectives and her methods. Allying with
Broxbourne, a society mostly dominated by men. Subverting generations of
tradition, enslaving men, and creating an all-female regime. Do all the
amazarii think these are worthy goals?"

The leader's eyes narrowed at me. "It is not our place to question such
things, but only to obey," she said.

"And yet, you have followed Shara here to meet with me," I countered. "I
doubt Valessa would look very kindly on that."

"She has earned our respect," the amazari admitted. I looked at Shara, and
only then noticed the presence of several bruises about her face and arms
that had not been there when she had set out on this quest. Whatever she
had done to get these few amazarii to follow her, it clearly had not been
without price. She was radiant with triumph, however, and stepped forward
to speak

"You told me that you believed in the Rule of Two, in the balance it
creates" she argued, "Your Queen would destroy this balance in her blind
rage. She acts from emotion, not from reason."

"This is true," replied the amazarii leader, "But what guarantee do we have
that this man--" (she thrust her chin at me accusingly) "--and his armies
would not do the same?"

"As a woman, and one who knows him well, I can vow that this not his
intention," Shara said.

"And what about him?" The amazari asked suddenly, raising her voice angrily
and pointing at somebody behind me. I followed her accussing finger and saw
Valen, his face blank, his mouth tightly closed. Behind him, Cedrik looked
pale under the warrior woman's gaze.

I turned back to the amazarii. "The King has sought my protection and aid
in liberating his people. He seeks only to prevent the massacre and
enslavement of the men of Fermanagh. He will not subvert the Rule of Two."

The amazarii all laughed without mirth and spit in Valen's direction. "He
has been subverting the Rule since the moment he was crowned," the leader
declared, "His men have raped and tortured women, undermined their freedoms
and independence whenever possible. He has pandered to the worst of men,
either because he agreed with their actions or was too afraid to stop
them. He is a monster or a coward. If anything, it is his sins that have
driven our Queen to this great rage."

I did not know what to say to that, for I knew they were right. Valen might
never have laid his hand upon a woman, but he had allowed it to be
done. Rather than rein in violent men under his command, he stood by and
permitted them to commit serious crimes, thinking instead of the "greater
good" as he saw it. It was no surprise then that the amazarii found his
presence to be intolerable, and felt that his support of my cause rendered
me untrustworthy.

"We cannot ally ourselves with you," the amazarii said at last, echoing my
thoughts, "We will not shed our blood to put this wretched man back on the
throne."

"You will not have to," I said suddenly, knowing what I had to do. I
refused to look back at Valen. He would not like this decision, but it was
no longer in his hands; his actions had lost him the privileges of
power. "Valen will step down. He will abdicate his throne and name a
successor that the women of Fermanagh can agree is suitable. He will no
longer be King of Men."

There were gasps, and I heard Cedrik shout a protest. The amazari's eyes
went wide, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "This could be a workable
compromise, if he were actually to agree to such a course." She emphasized
the word "if" meaningfully.

All eyes shifted to Valen. To his credit, he kept his dignity, his head
held high, his bearing every bit as royal as though he were sitting on his
throne that very moment. He looked at me for a long time, and I thought I
saw a hint of sadness in him, slipping out of the edges of his royal
mask. He swallowed, took a breath. Then, finally, found the courage to
speak. We were all silent so as to catch his words. "I will abdicate," he
said with a low, hoarse voice.

There was suddenly a lot of noise. Confusion, surprise, celebration by the
amazarii. It took several minutes until it was quiet enough to continue
negotiations. By then I had stepped closer to the amazari leader and held
out my hand in a gesture of truce.

"With Valen and Valessa gone, the people of Fermanagh, both men and women
together, will have the best chance at peace that they have had in a long
time. When Valessa is brought to justice, the women of the city will have
free reign to choose their own Queen - no man will interfere. In the
meantime, you must be patient while Valen chooses his own successor, and in
due course you will have a chance to approve or disapprove of his choice."

My mind was already racing with potential candidates. Naturally, Cedrik
would have the proper experience, but his close connection to Valen might
disqualify him in the minds of the amazarii. Perhaps Alek? The thought of
crowning my dear friend brought a certain sense of satisfaction, but as
much as I loved him I was not sure he was prepared to rule. Perhaps
somebody else entirely, some noble-minded reasonable man of Fermanagh who
could finally end this madness between the sexes. I shook my head -- there
was no need to rush this decision. Time enough for choosing kings after the
coming battle was over.

My thoughts were interrupted suddenly, and not by the reply of the amazari
as I had anticipated. Instead it was Valen who spoke, striding through the
crowd to reach my side.

"There is no need to wait," he said with confidence, "I have chosen
already. I, Valen, King of Fermanagh, Ruler of the Male Sex, hereby name
Markis the Exile as my successor. He is heir of Alander -- and of me."

There was an even greater uproar than before as my army shouted my name,
soldiers from my tribe and from all three great cities uniting their voices
together to proclaim my victory. Nearby the amazarii looked at each other
and at Shara thoughtfully, as if weighing my suitability, but I couldn't
spare any attention for them. I was too busy staring with at Valen with
what I am sure was a shocked expression. Certainly I can still remember the
surprise hitting me in the gut, so that my mouth likely fell open and mind
grew numb as I struggled to think. He met my gaze coldly, a sad smile on
his lips, and for a long while we looked at each other so intensely that,
though we were surrounded by chaos, I began to feel that the two of us were
the only ones there.
_____________________________________________________________________

We have been traveling for weeks, so I have not been able to write in this
account as much as I would like. My time is short. I must finish my tale
before this grand tour of my lands is done and my reign ends. Every day I
remain King brings more compromises, and each day I must give up a part of
myself for the greater good of my people. In this way I have become too
much like Valen already, and must end this all before it is too late. Too
late for my people, and for me.

My power must end, as Alander's did before me, and in the void that follows
who can say what will happen? I have made my preparations, but whether the
people will be ready to rule themselves I cannot say. It will be in their
hands.

My special one, I think of you back in Broxbourne even now, counting the
days until I return. I will never see you again. Forgive me, and be happy.

I must do what I must do.


**********************************

The end is in sight! Feel free to send me encouragement or questions at
thephallocrat@gmail.com