The Sword in the Sea - Chapter Nine

Ravian did not leave the House of Palms for two days and, when he did so, it was with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

He would have had one of his sailors severely beaten for such an absence from duty, he reflected, as he returned the salute of his guard salute at the Admiral's Residence. On the other hand, he rationalised, what was the point of being a prince if one didn't indulge oneself every once in a while?

'Every once in a while,' he chuckled aloud, as he entered his private quarters and threw himself on the bed. 'Try once in almost a year!'

To his surprise and relief, Belice had been a gentle and understanding lover – the first time. After that, and as he regained his confidence, her passion seemed to become increasingly aroused and they had made love in so many ways that he had difficulty recalling all of them. Between their bouts of lovemaking they had eaten, sipped wine and talked, going over the maps of each other's lives.

What a woman!

She was intelligent, caring, sensual, beautiful, educated – and she was his!

Ravian couldn't recall ever being so happy.

Jeniel, when they next met, contrived to cloud his happiness.

'I understand that you recently disappeared for a couple of days, Ravian?' he enquired innocently.

'Uh…yes, I wasn't feeling so well,' Ravian said, feeling his ears beginning to redden.

'All better now?' asked his brother, solicitously.

'Oh yes, much better, thank you,' Ravian replied, unable to suppress a smile.

'Oh Delikas, save me,' Jeniel groaned with a wry grin. 'I presume that we are getting on a lot better with our neighbour then? No need for me to set the palace guard on her?'

'No,' Ravian said. 'She is probably the most wonderful woman I have ever met.'

Jeniel's grin vanished and he shot his brother a sharp look.

'I'm sure she is, Ravian,' he said seriously, 'but don't forget what she is. Don't fall in love with her. She can never fully be a part of your life.'

'Oh, don't worry about me,' said Ravian, airily. 'I'm just enjoying myself.'

'Hmmm,' was all that Jeniel said.

As the intelligence reports from the North became increasingly alarming, Ravian continued his vigorous drive of Tarcus's defensive preparations. Now though, those evenings that he was in the city belonged to Belice – as did the occasional moment during the day.

She rarely left her property and Ravian could arrive there unannounced at any time, the guards and servants bowing him into the house as though he was its master. Belice was always ready for him – their lovemaking a varied and exciting delight he had never known before. Sometimes she would dance for him, driving him to that same frenzy of desire he had known when he first saw her at Saravar's palace.

As entranced as he was by Belice sexually, it wasn't long before her full nature began to weave a spell on him. As well as a passionate lover, he discovered in her a gentle and understanding companion with whom, to his surprise, he frequently found himself discussing the problems of a difficult day. While her very presence soothed him, he also found that she was often able to suggest solutions that he had been unable to see, and he began to understand why she had been so close to Saravar. Belice had a canny political mind, a solid grasp of tactics and an acute intuition regarding people.

She expanded his knowledge of Ezreen – its culture, its politics, and its economy – as well as the countries to the north and south of that kingdom. She intrigued him with her empathy for the plight of the downtrodden and, as she told him of her early life, he began to understand why she felt so.

'My parents were poor folk who lived in the mountains of Karaal,' she told him. 'There was a particularly harsh winter and the following springtime brought nothing but famine. We were all starving – my brothers and sisters and I – and, as the oldest girl, my parents had little choice but to sell me to a passing Ezrenian trader. I cannot have been more than eight years old.

'I was taken to the slave market in Ezreen, where the best fate I could have hoped for would have been a life of domestic servitude, but, being pretty enough to attract attention even at that age, I was purchased by a wealthy Ezrenian widow who specialised in producing Halay dancers. I loved to dance – it made me feel free – and I excelled in the art. As I became older though, and my body began to blossom into womanhood, my owner saw the opportunity for an even greater return on her investment than she had first hoped. In addition to my Halay skills, she had me instructed in Sulee, the scriptures of erotic congress, all the time guarding my virginity like a tigress. When I reached the age of fourteen, the widow made contact with the king's agents and, thus, I was sold to the palace.'

Ravian soon learned that the slavery was a subject on which Belice was extremely sensitive.

'You have no idea what it is like to be a slave,' she went on. 'You Tarcuns don't even have slaves – which I think is one of the reasons I like it here so much, one of the reasons that I like you so much.'

'It's not your fault, my love,' Belice continued, 'but, unless you have been a slave yourself, you cannot possibly imagine what it is like. There I was, a fourteen-year-old virgin child, made to dance for the king and then picked out from among the other dancers and ordered to his bed to await his pleasure. I was terrified!

'Saravar, as you know, had a good heart and he treated me gently and kindly – but how different it could have been. He could have done anything with me. He might have abused me and then thrown me to his guards for their sport, or worse – and I have certainly heard of worse!

'Yes! I have had a lucky life – for a slave. A charmed and happy life, if the truth be known – but I was still a slave!'

Ravian was silent. He remembered his thoughtless, youthful romps with the girls of Saravar's palace and was ashamed of himself. He had never considered the side of slavery that Belice now described.

She looked at him and her eyes softened.

'Darling, I know what you are thinking, but the past is the past – or can be for you anyway. Just promise me that you will never sleep with a slave or a prostitute again.'

He had solemnly promised, without reservation. After all, Belice was the only woman he would ever want for the rest of his life.

Two weeks after he had spent that first night at the House of Palms, Ravian stood upon the quarterdeck of Sea Eagle as she led a growing fleet of twenty-seven swordships out to sea.

Despite the dead calm of the previous evening, it was an inclement morning, a warm but strong south-easterly driving sheets of rain that periodically obscured the coast, as the single file of ships began its run up to Belainus. As he looked up at the Western Arm through a momentary break in the weather, Ravian caught a glimpse of the waving palms above Belice's house.

She would still be asleep in the bed he had left that morning, he thought, remembering the smell of her as he had kissed her goodbye and the warmth of her body as she, only half-waking, had arched against his embrace. Despite the rain and the increasingly uncomfortable motion of the ship, he smiled.

Old Lederalus, who had elected to sail with the fleet this day, saw the smile and the direction of the prince's gaze, and an impish grin lit his face.

'I say, Vice admiral,' he said, addressing Capernal just loudly enough for Ravian to hear, 'the Commander in Chief seems to be in a good mood these days.'

Capernal looked nervous. So did Godart, who was now Sea Eagle's captain. Combus, who generally took the tiller when entering or leaving harbour – or for battle stations – stared straight ahead impassively. After half a year of cold black rages, the re-emerging sense of humour of their commander was something none of them was in a hurry to test.

'I'm sure that we are all glad to be back to sea,' Capernal said neutrally, declining to follow the old shipbuilder's mischievous lead.

Lederalus rubbed his chin thoughtfully and decided that there was sport to be had, even if his colleagues were reluctant to play.

'Tell me, Vice admiral. Did you notice any of this breeze last night?' he asked.

'No,' Capernal replied nervously, unsure where Lederalus was heading. 'It was flat calm until just before dawn. Why do you ask?'

'Well,' said Lederalus, 'it was the oddest thing, but I was out for an after-dinner stroll last night and I passed by that House of Palms place. I didn't think there was any wind but those palm trees around that house were waving and tossing as though there was a hurricane amongst them.'

The two younger men grinned.

'I daresay there probably was,' Godart chuckled.

'What in the name of Kanavas do you two think are doing?!' Ravian bellowed, wheeling around from where he stood at the rail. 'Is this a warship or a hen house?!'

Capernal and Godart jumped and then snapped to attention.

'Vice admiral Capernal!' Ravian roared. 'Your fleet is strung out behind us like a bunch of drunken sailors! Have them signalled to tighten the line and close to proper formation distance!

'Captain Godart! If you are so concerned about weather conditions, why have you not trimmed your sails properly since we rounded the point? The main is luffing so loudly I can hardly hear myself think!'

The two men leapt to their tasks with expressionless faces, and Ravian turned his back on them. He became aware of Lederalus beside him at the rail.

'And what do you want, you old gossip?' he growled.

Lederalus grinned. He was too old to fear either admirals or princes.

'I just wanted to say that it's good to see you back to your old self, Your Highness,' he said. 'You had us all quite concerned for a while.'

'Hmmm,' grunted Ravian. 'I imagined that I had been rather more discreet.'

Lederalus rolled his eyes.

'It's a small island, Your Highness – and the lady and yourself are its biggest story at the moment. Why, if you were in the habit of frequenting the taverns of the city, you would realise that your love life is now celebrated in a very popular drinking song.'

'Oh…er…how do I stop that?' Ravian asked, appalled at the very idea.

'You don't, Your Highness,' said the old man. 'If you understood your men a little better, you'd realise that they're proud of you. Their commander, sleeping with the most beautiful woman in the world? – They love you for it. Somehow, it gives them pride in themselves.'

If Ravian had been surprised at this revelation about the psychology of his men, an even greater surprise was in store for him when the fleet returned to the White City a few days later.

Eager to see Belice, he had left Sea Eagle as soon as the ship had tied up, and bounded up the long flight of steps clinging to the cliff side between the naval base and the Admiral's Residence. Bypassing his own home at the top, he had headed up the lane towards the House of Palms. Somewhere ahead of him, a din that sounded like a large number of children disrupted the usual quiet of the Western Arm, and Ravian had thought it odd that he had never noticed a school or nursery in the area before.

Then he had stopped, open-mouthed, at the gates to Sinur's home.

As always, two of Belice's men were on guard duty there. Today though, they smiled even more broadly than usual at the arrival of the prince while, behind them, at least forty children frolicked with the house servants and the rest of the guards on the residence's immaculate lawns. It seemed that they were playing some sort of game of tag, and the air was filled with piercing shrieks of delight.

Feeling as though he was in some odd sort of dream, Ravian walked towards the house. Belice, barefaced and bare-footed, danced up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

'Welcome back, My Darling!' she yelled above the noise. 'Aren't they wonderful?'

Ravian noticed a grinning Terim in the middle of the melee, carrying one ecstatic child on his shoulders and another under each arm.

'Um…what…?' he asked stupidly.

'It would seem that, even in Tarcus, there are children with no one to care for them,' she said. 'My people have rescued these little waifs from the streets of the White City.'

'But…what are you going to do with them?' he asked, still having difficulty believing his eyes.

'They are going to live here,' she replied, her chin lifting defiantly.

'An orphanage?' he asked.

'Precisely.'

Ravian stared at the scene about him.

What was going to happen to their nights and days of passion?

How did one enjoy the delight of Halay and Sulee with a pack of screaming children charging about the place?

Belice gave him a searching look and seemed to read his mind.

'Look, My Love,' she said, 'someone has to care for these children – and I've more room and servants than I need. I thought that, if it suited you, maybe I could move into your residence.'

Ravian couldn't restrain his sigh of relief and, taking his eyes off the chaos before them, he looked at Belice closely for the first time since his return. Her hair was unbound and tousled, her face flushed from the children's games. Her eyes were shining happily and he thought that she had never looked more beautiful. The House of Palms was pleasant enough, but he had missed the sea views of the Admiral's Residence.

'Yes,' he said. 'What a wonderful idea!'

'What, in the name of the blue balls of Kanavas, were you thinking?!' King Jeniel bellowed at him.

It had taken two days from the time that Belice had moved in to his residence for his summons from the palace to arrive. The brothers stood facing each other on the wide balcony outside Jeniel's private apartments – the king didn't want any witnesses to this discussion.

'I fail to see what the problem is,' Ravian replied loftily.

'Oh you do, do you?' Jeniel ground through clenched teeth. 'Well, let me spell it out for you, you moron.'

'Have you even remotely considered the implications of your setting up house with this woman?' his brother continued. 'She's an ex-slave! A celebrated concubine! A harlot! How can you possibly allow yourself to be seen to live with her like husband and wife? – and in the Admiral's Residence?!'

'She is a truly good person,' Ravian defended. 'She's done more good work in the short time she's been here than most of our civil servants have in a lifetime!'

'I'm not denying that, you idiot,' his brother snapped, 'but I don't care if she single-handedly saves every poor soul in the world and sinks the Northern battle fleet into the bargain! The issue is you, and who you are!'

Ravian was silent as the king stormed on.

'You can't attend any civic function with her – in fact, I forbid you to be seen with her in public. She can never enter the palace, you certainly can't marry her and, while you are playing happy families with her and her orphan brood, no respectable girl is going to even look at you. And don't you dare have any children by her!'

'I'm in love with her,' Ravian said simply – the first time he had admitted it even to himself.

'No, you're not,' his brother snapped. 'She's just the first woman that's come along since Sinur and you've let your testicles get the better of you.'

'That's not true!' Ravian snarled, his suspicions about Sinur's death suddenly welling up again.

Had she really killed herself? Had his brother had anything to do with it?

Jeniel was silent for a moment, as Sinur's ghost floated between the two brothers, unacknowledged. Then the king sighed.

'All right, Ravian – maybe you are in love with her – but that doesn't matter. Kasanda and I are still childless. What do you think would happen if I were to die tomorrow? Do you think that the citizens of the country would accept a new king on their throne with someone like Belice as his consort? How much chance do you think any issue from your union with this woman would have of making it to the throne after your death? It's a recipe for civil war.'

Ravian was silent, knowing that Jeniel was right.

'All I'm asking you to do, Dear Brother,' Jeniel continued in a more reasonable tone, 'is to face up to your responsibilities and get her out of the Admiral's Residence. Have your fun, but be discreet, for heaven's sake – and find a respectable girl to marry and continue the line with.'

They locked eyes.

'No,' said Ravian.

Jeniel glared at him, and Ravian waited for his brother's next move. Neither of them were children anymore, he thought with a touch of sadness. The games they played now were serious.

'Very well,' the king finally said. 'I'll leave it for the time being but, sooner or later, you are going to have to realise that your duty to this kingdom goes beyond your military activities. Enjoy your time with Belice, Ravian – it won't last forever.'

Ravian turned Jeniel's words over in his mind as he stalked back to his residence, the wound of Sinur's death torn open again.

He still believed that his wife had been murdered but, over the preceding months, he had more or less decided that his brother had not been involved. But if not his brother, then whom and why? What had Sinur been about to tell him that was so important that it had cost her her life?

And if he was wrong about Jeniel not being so ruthless, was Belice's life under threat even now?

Despite Ravian's efforts to conceal his feelings, Belice quickly deduced at least a part of the reason for the king's summons and, as they lay together that night, she tenderly put her hand to his cheek and brought his eyes to meet hers in the moonlight.

'Darling,' she said gently, 'you do realise that we are not meant to be together forever, don't you?'

'But we will be,' he replied stubbornly.

Her smile was sad.

'No,' she shook her head. 'There will come a time when we will both have to go our own ways. You are a prince and I was a slave and a concubine. Our time together is wonderful – will always be wonderful – but it will end.'

'But you're free now,' he said.

'No I'm not, my love,' she said, and kissed him gently. 'Once a slave – always a slave.'

And, with that, their love was changed. As the months passed, their feelings for each other grew even stronger – but, now, they were tinged with the poignant knowledge that their time together would have an end.