Beauty's Kingdom Page 17

  At sundown, after that third paddling, there had been the prettiest boy comforting me. “Prince, you’ll learn,” he’d confided in a shy halting voice.

  And now the dish was silver and the wine was sweetened with honey. I could smell it.

  This was wonderfully comforting to her. She glanced up fearfully and then down, then stared at the buckle of my belt, or at the cup I held in my right hand.

  Now when I fed her the wine with my fingers, she lapped at it, and then I let her lap from the cup itself.

  “What is your name, little blossom?” I said.

  “Barbara, sire,” she said through her sniffles and sobs.

  “You were splendid on the turntable, Barbara,” I said.

  “But sire, I was so clumsy, I . . .”

  “Ah, precious, never contradict your betters,” I said. “That will never do. Thank me, if you like, but do not tell me I am wrong.”

  Her hair was almost golden in the sunlight but truly brown, a light shimmering brown.

  “Yes, sire, forgive me!” She jumped suddenly and behind her, over the gilded pillory, I saw the boys and girls gathered there screaming with laughter. They’d been stroking her sex with those wicked little broom toys.

  I put up my hand ominously and to my astonishment they backed away. Why did this surprise me?

  “Listen, Barbara, you are very beautiful,” I said. “I adore you. I have come many miles to revisit this place. I shall never forget you as the tender blossom I saw here during these moments.”

  “I’m so glad you’re pleased, my lord,” she cried. Crisp articulation. A well-spoken girl.

  “Look up at me, go ahead.”

  Her eyes were dark blue and I could see her piquant nose and mouth. A ruddy finely shaped mouth.

  I shifted the cup to my left hand and felt of her little chin, more flesh than bone. I pressed my thumb into the soft flesh—there was a dimple there, very pretty—beneath her lower lip.

  One should not say eyes are intelligent but she had intelligent eyes.

  “To whom do you belong, girl?” I asked.

  “To the village, sire,” she said, and her tears came again, thick and glassy and catching the sun. “I’ve only just . . .”

  “Go on, little sparrow,” I said.

  “I’ve only just come to the kingdom.” More tears. “I want so to please, my lord. I sold all I possessed to come here, my lord.”

  I turned.

  The Captain was standing right behind me with Alexi and the lovely lady to whom I’d been unforgivably rude. But she seemed entirely patient and was smiling at me rather wistfully and said at once:

  “What can I answer for you, Prince?”

  “The girl, I want her!” I said.

  “Arranged,” said the Captain. “Whenever and wherever you like.”

  “I know what I want now, the sort of lodgings, if I’m to stay. I must talk to the King and Queen.”

  “And I will make certain of the details,” said the lady eagerly. “Only tell me, Prince, and I’ll see to it for you. I know full well that the King and Queen very much want you to stay.”

  “Yes, most definitely, they want you to stay,” said Alexi. “No doubt of it at all.”

  “A townhouse, a townhouse here in the village,” I said. “Is there a well-appointed townhouse that actually overlooks the Place of Public Punishment? That’s what I want and, of course, will pay for it. And this girl as my slave.”

  I turned to offer the shuddering little damsel another drink. I knew she had heard every word.

  Her pink tongue darted gracefully into the wine, lapping as swiftly and skillfully as that of a cat. Indeed there was something quite feline about her allure. This would certainly shape the manner in which I kept her, trained her, used her.

  I was now hard and again on the verge of coming.

  I looked around and I could see the distant windows and roofs surrounding the place. Surely those were the diamond-paned windows and gabled roofs of townhouses, had to be, all smartly painted, but they were some distance away.

  “There is an available townhouse near, perhaps?” asked Lady Eva, looking up at the Captain.

  “Oh, yes, several, though they are hardly the finest or the most popular,” said the Captain. “Most people think the place too busy, too noisy. Prince, you do realize the place is almost never quiet now. There are so many coming and going . . .”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s precisely what I want.”

  “I’m thinking which one would be the best,” said the Captain. He gestured to what appeared the broadest of the distant townhouses, the last one in the row that partially enclosed the far side of the square. “I think that one is indeed available, used now for guests who come and go.”

  “We can have it appointed beautifully for you, my lord,” said lovely Lady Eva.

  “Yes, that one,” I said. “It looks down here on the turntable and the pillory.”

  “I’m sure I can arrange all of this immediately,” said the Captain. “The visitors in that house left early this morning for their native land.” He turned to gesture for someone behind him.

  Lady Eva volunteered that she would oversee all the amenities herself.

  “Dmitri, are you certain?” asked Alexi. “You don’t want to be in the castle with us?”

  “Alexi, darling,” said the lady. “I think our beloved king might be quite pleased with all this. He’s eager to hear Dmitri’s views of the village and this very place.”

  “He feels it lacks innovation and expansive ideas,” said the Captain in a low voice.

  “Yes, but not to live at Court—” Alexi persisted.

  “But of course Prince Dmitri would be living at Court, able to ride up at any time.”

  “I never actually lived at Court when I was here,” I said to Alexi. I could hear the poorly suppressed emotion in my voice. And I knew that these words were foolish. They offered no real explanation for my choice.

  I laughed suddenly, inexplicably.

  I held the cup in my left hand while I smoothed Barbara’s hair with my right. I leaned over and spoke into her ear.

  “You’re going to find me a very demanding master,” I said. “But fear not, when I’m finished with you, you’ll be perfection, and I may just keep you for a very long time, ever driving you to greater heights.”

  “Master!” she whispered.

  “I am Prince Dmitri. Remember that name,” I confided to her. “I’ll be back for you. Perhaps not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow, but very soon.” I turned to the Captain. “There’s no chance of my losing her, with all of these people, all of these slaves!”

  “None,” said the Captain. I saw now that there were two grooms beside him, and they were eyeing the girl. “All slaves are carefully watched. No slave is left to slip from vigilance. And actually, Prince, that was always true even when the kingdom was one-third of what it is now.”

  Had I insulted him? Of course. He’d certainly stood over me on that first day here so many years ago, hadn’t he? And we’d all known then that we were watched, accounted for, protected to be punished only in the approved ways. Again, I almost laughed, but why I didn’t know.

  The noise of the place rose around me, as if stirred by a latent breeze, and the sun felt a bit warm to me suddenly. Ah, it was these Russian clothes. I imagined myself naked, completely naked in this balmy air.

  Barbara had almost finished the wine, clever little creature.

  I took the last few droplets on my right fingers and I pushed these against her tongue. Then I pushed my thumb into her mouth, opening it, feeling the hot wet inside of her mouth. I wished I could see all of her and not this gilded pillory. Well, I would soon enough.

  “Say it, girl.”

  “Prince Dmitri, my lord and master,” she said, her bright dark blue eyes
flashing on me again.

  v

  We were in the Punishment Shop and what a grand tavern that turned out to be. In old times, said the Captain to Lady Eva, these little places had been crowded and noisy with straw-strewn floors and cheap cider and ale.

  I knew this. I remembered. I remembered the farmer’s wife sending me here on foot, alone, to be punished. We wore tags around our necks. The choice of tag suggested the punishment. A small black tag on a thin thong meant “Spank.” A red tag meant “Spank Severely,” or so I’d been told. I’d always been sent with the red tag dangling between my nipples, hands clamped to the back of my neck, as that was the only way we’d ever been allowed to walk through the village on our own. And woe to the slave who wandered without a tag, a purpose, some emblem of intent from his master or mistress in sending him or her on an errand.

  The place had been narrow then, with a bare stage four feet off the floor, and crowded little tables where villagers drank their cider or ale, gossiped, and with some of the women knitting or embroidering with their little rings.

  Now it was vast, the beams of the ceiling painted with bright green vines and yellow flowers against a plaster blue sky.

  We had a polished table and carved chairs, and so did the other patrons, rich and poor, and the stage directly just in front of us, some four feet off the ground still, was painted and polished and draped in sumptuous wool hangings and lighted with great multibranching iron candelabra.

  The whipping master was caparisoned in yellow and gray with the same ornate apron worn by his fellow on the Public Turntable, and if anything this one was a more impressive figure in his high-backed armless chair.

  In the kingdom, always beware of armless chairs.

  He was a giant of a man with a mane of long flowing gray hair and a broad beard, with rosy cheeks and big shining gold boots.

  He crooned to the slave bent over his apron now, tousling his hair, and stroking his back, and patting his upturned backside gently. The spanking had apparently just ended as we came in. He appeared to be comforting the victim and taking his time.

  “He thinks he’s a loving grandfather,” said Lady Eva confidentially to me as he might easily hear us, we were so close.

  But the din was considerable. Everywhere patrons drank their cider or ale and chatted with spirit, as if nothing, absolutely nothing, were happening on the stage.

  “It’s really too amusing,” Lady Eva said to me with a brilliant smile. “That’s why I’ve seated us so close. You must hear and see this kindly father of paddlings for yourself.”

  Alexi laughed as he lifted his mug of mulled wine. “I love the man!” he said. “I come down here for this more than anything else.”

  More patrons pressed into the Punishment Shop now, and beyond the tiny diamond-paned windows others were lined up to get in. There were villagers here, ordinary people, yes, but it did seem to me the gentry was now the majority, so unlike the old times.

  The floor of the stage was carpeted in dark blue, and the whipping master’s thronelike chair was placed on a carpeted platform elevated above it by one foot. He had taken a little break for himself, it seemed, and drank from a flagon offered him by his liveried attendant. Yellow gloves. So many of the grooms and attendants wore yellow gloves. I saw the stool beside him, fancy and carved as was every movable, and the pot of cream there and a pile of what appeared to be more yellow leather gloves.

  The slaves were lined up on their hands and knees on a long easily sloping ramp to the far side from us, which brought them from a pen inside the front door to the stage.

  I remembered that ramp very well, making my way up it slowly, as it sometimes took an hour before my turn to be “Spanked Severely” and hoping that the crowd would take no interest, which was often the case. After all, I’d known this place after my return from the sultanate, and I had become a master of control.

  I didn’t give them a good performance. I was far too resigned, and polished. And even when told to “wag my little tail,” I did it too gracefully to interest the commoners who used to congregate here more to see one another than to bother with us.

  I was eager for the show to begin, and felt oddly detached even from Alexi, though the courtesy and sweetness of Lady Eva touched me. The Captain had gone off to see to my townhouse and to the delivery of Barbara along with all the furnishings and goods. I felt his absence, but I didn’t know whether I was grateful for it. It seemed I missed him.

  I looked around the shop slowly, noting a multitude of changes, the dark blue painted walls, the polished floor. Ah, such polished floors. The ramp for the waiting slaves had its blue carpet, same as the stage. Tables were set with small silver lamplets or candles. Goblets, flagons, or cups were of silver or enameled earthenware. And the smell of the place was sweet from the honey and spices in the heated drinks.

  “I came here many times,” I murmured under my breath, principally to convince my companions that I was not altogether ignoring them, though in fact I was.

  A young gentleman had caught my eyes, a figure and face I thought I might know. He was my age, I had come to realize, though on first sight he’d seemed much younger, with an oval face and long red hair. It was slightly darker than Lady Eva’s voluminous hair, and his eyes, though green, were paler than hers, but he was handsome in the extreme—and dressed fussily and finely in a long peach-colored embroidered tunic and soft ornate morocco-leather boots.

  He wore the same heavy gold chain and medallion that Alexi wore, and I wondered at it. Then it hit me: “Prince Richard,” I said aloud.

  Alexi leaned forward, and quickly I explained. Richard had been in the village when I’d returned from the land of the Sultan, a prince who’d displeased the Queen as much as I had, sent down to punishment, just as I had been, and he’d served the hard demanding Mistress Jennifer Loxley at the inn. He’d left before I had, and now I could see he was back.

  “Oh, yes,” said Lady Eva. “That is Prince Richard indeed. He returned two years ago and the Queen was glad to receive him. He languished at Court until the new king and queen arrived. He’s the guiding genius of this place, so to speak. The King relies upon him to oversee this and all the Punishment Shops, and he enjoys this very much. He lodges at the inn now where once he was a slave. But no one would recognize the inn now, for it’s become a place of luxury for moneyed guests and even nobility. He’s devoted to our new monarchs. He especially adores the Queen and takes the noon meal with her almost daily. He has lodgings at the castle as well.”

  “Guiding genius.” These were the words that the King had used in referring to the Place of Public Punishment.

  “And you, Alexi,” I said, turning to him and pointing to his chain and medallion. “Does this have to do with being the guiding genius of something? Is it permitted for me to ask?”

  “Naturally, and I’m glad to tell you,” he said. “I’m in charge of evening Court entertainments along with Rosalynd and Elena. The ladies wear a medallion linked to their belts, and often hidden in their pockets. I’m happy to wear this, as you see.”

  “And Prince Richard’s medallion indicates his responsibilities,” said Lady Eva. “The villagers and guests know by these medallions that they might approach him and ask questions, that he is ever ready to help. Prince Richard is the master of His Majesty’s Punishment Shops.”

  I understood. I understood more than I could put into words. I understood everything! Of course. Prince Richard had been punished innumerable times over the years here. He knew the ways of the place intimately. He was the perfect person to refine and perfect it in the rush of conflicting forces that characterized any new kingdom, any new regime. Guiding Genius.

  “Dmitri,” said Alexi gently and confidentially. “You need accept no such position, you know. You are entirely free to enjoy the kingdom. Prince Roger is back, do you remember him? He has no task as yet and may never seek for one. Tonight, you
and other returnees will be presented officially and that means welcomed, welcomed as guests to Court.”

  “I know, I understand that, Alexi,” I said, my eyes fixed on the stately almost prim figure of Prince Richard. His arms were folded. He sat with his back to the ramp of waiting slaves. He was studying the patrons of the place, not the slaves, watching the naked serving boys and girls, watching the great red-cheeked whipping master laugh with his groom as he drank his ale.

  “Listen, Prince,” said Lady Eva suddenly. “I know you want to be alone with your thoughts here. I’ll go on to see to your house. When you’re ready to return to Court, I’ll have the King’s chariot waiting for you at the village gates. Alexi, you can handle the team, can you not? Now I’ll leave you.”

  We rose to bid her goodbye and she took me boldly in her arms.

  “Lady, you read my mind and my heart,” I said.

  “I understand, my lord,” she said. “You have only just returned. I cannot know what it is like for you, but I have seen what it has been like for others.”

  She kissed me on both cheeks and made her way out of the place, quite independently though I caught sight now of a groom who followed her, a groom in castle livery, who’d been waiting quietly on her all along.

  “She knows much,” I said to Alexi.

  “That’s why she is in charge of all slaves in this kingdom,” said Alexi. “That’s why the King and Queen completely depend on her. As she admitted, she does not know what we know. She is very young and has never been anyone’s naked slave. But her comprehension of this world we share is unsurpassed. Do you want me to go?”

  “No!” I took his hand almost desperately. “Not at all.”

  A naked serving girl refilled my goblet. And a boy appeared with a fresh mug of mulled wine for Alexi.

  The whipping master drew himself up, wiped his heavy gray mustache with his enormous hand, and a little sprinkling of applause broke out here and there. His face shone bright in the candlelight. No doubt dusk was coming down in the crowded street beyond.