The Red Sash

The Red Sash by L. E. Bryce Phaze www.phaze.com Copyright ©2009 by L.E. Bryce NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the ...

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The Red Sash by L. E. Bryce

Phaze www.phaze.com

Copyright ©2009 by L.E. Bryce

NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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CONTENTS The Red Sash Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five About the Author ****

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Published by Phaze Books Also by L.E. Bryce A Crown of Stars Aneshu Becoming Concubinage Dead to the World The Fifth House From This Night The Golden Lotus House of the Swallows Ki'iri My Sun and Stars Phaze Fantasies, Vol. V Twice Born 4


The Water Lovers of Sirilon (print collection) This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers. Please keep out of the hands of children. www.Phaze.com

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The Red Sash A homoerotic fantasy short by L.E. BRYCE [Back to Table of Contents]

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The Red Sash © 2008-9 L.E. Bryce All rights reserved under the International and PanAmerican Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. A Phaze Production Phaze Books 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222 Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC. To order additional copies of this book, contact: [email protected] www.Phaze.com 7


Cover art © 2008 Debi Lewis Edited by Kathryn Lively eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-130-7 First Edition—March, 2009 Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One The stone latticework was not native to Thrindor, and served little practical purpose. But Tamasin loved the delicate screen, so finely wrought one feared to break it by touching it. Its intricate patterns allowed him to gaze upon the courtyard below without being seen, and indeed, he had hired Tajhaani stonemasons to install the work at great cost for precisely that purpose. "Your wives will appreciate this gift," said the foreman in his thick accent. "Now they may look out and still keep veiled." No one had bothered to inform these foreigners that Thrindi men did not have multiple wives, and they had apparently never noticed that the local women were allowed to do and go as they pleased. Tamasin, seeing no need to dispel their illusions, answered with a polite smile. "Yes, this is exactly what I wish. They should not be seen from below." Had the masons any idea of the screen's true purpose, they might have chuckled and praised Tamasin's inventiveness, but he never told them. From the narrow courtyard below it appeared as one more decoration in a villa the master had recently acquired and renovated. It excited no further notice save from those few who knew its secret. Tamasin furnished the small chamber behind the screen with a cushioned chair and table. These little luxuries enabled him to observe in comfort the activities below. 9


There they were now, moving in the soft sand Tamasin had ordered carried up from the beach. His three treasures, each clad in brief loincloths that left nothing to the imagination, taking their exercise as any youths their age might do. Around the shaded perimeter they ran laps, then cooled off by stretching and tumbling in the sand. Tamasin watched beads of perspiration form like raindrops on their skin. Their long ringlets and limbs glistened with sweat even after they dipped their hands in a corner fountain to cool themselves. Perhaps men on the mainland, in arid Tajhaan and Juva, liked their soft adolescent boys, but here in Thrindor a man preferred a well-formed, athletic youth. And Tamasin, stretching custom as was rapidly becoming the fashion, had three such prizes. Sometimes the courtyard's acoustics allowed him to catch their conversation. Like all young men they joked and laughed together like brothers. Tamasin smiled at the illusion of camaraderie they so carefully maintained. They were rivals and they knew it. In a hundred subtle ways they vied for his attention, for the right to wear the elaborate red sash that signaled to the others that he was favored for the night. Why they sought this with such hunger Tamasin could not understand when he took special care not to set one above the others. "That is because you have no brothers," said Keftu, the steward. "If you did then you would understand." When the young men went inside to wash and eat, Tamasin left the secret room to attend to the day's business. 10


The hillside villa was ideally situated, facing southeast to catch the strong afternoon sun, and on its terraces Tamasin cultivated grapes and olives. Harvest yielded quantities sufficient for household use; the villa never produced enough wine or olive oil to make it as profitable as the estates farther inland, but Tamasin enjoyed working the rich, dark earth alongside his men, ending the day with weary satisfaction. The two estates might bring him wealth, yet in beauty they could not match the villa with its views of Sull's lime-washed buildings and the azure sea. On a clear day, some said, one could look east to the distant shores of Juva. Autumn would bring an end to his leisure. Familial obligations meant he must return to his wife and young children on the main estate. Though he delighted in his son and two daughters, Tamasin dreaded the prospect of a winter spent among his wife's aristocratic friends at the royal court in Viduya. When would Yansi learn that he cared nothing for rank or ambition beyond what his family needed to prosper? She was a lovely woman, with full, high breasts and a narrow waist even after three children, and he liked her well enough when she did not push him with her demands or sharp reminders that she had brought the greater portion of wealth to their marriage. Of course, he would not be able to take his three catamites with him. One would have been acceptable, in the traditional way of things, but not all three. Tamasin knew he could not set one above the other by choosing, and so already rued the loss. Tajhaan might be more oppressive toward its women, forcing them into veiled seclusion, but for a man there was no 11


better solution. He could keep his wives and catamites under the same roof, yet in separate quarters, and enjoy them both without incident. But not here. Unless Yansi invited him into her bed, which might be more chore than privilege, depending on her mood, Tamasin would spend the winter and spring months in enforced celibacy. "Which one will you have tonight?" The sash already hung from Keftu's hands: a length of deep red linen heavy with pearls and gold beads. It looked cumbersome, precisely the sort of thing a prince or great lady might wear. Tamasin had originally purchased it for Yansi, yet at some point decided it looked better wrapped around the hips of a lithe young man. Sated with labor and a good meal, Tamasin had no particular preference. "Urrit," he said, only because he had not seen the young man the night before. Tamasin had never planned to own a foreign catamite, yet with one trip to Sull's portside slave market, and one look at the honey-skinned youth on the auction block, and he had given in. The ongoing war between the desert kingdoms on the mainland meant an influx of Tajhaani and Juvan slaves. There was not a single coastal community on the island that did not have its share of dark-skinned laborers, as they were now cheaper than native-born slaves. Urrit came at a bargain, for reasons Tamasin found shocking. When asked, the slave trader ran his hand down the young man's sleek muscled arms and shook his head disapprovingly. "Too old," he said. "Seventeen is too old for a master's bed. But you find him pleasing, so for you I will make a special price." 12


Tamasin suspected the man's "special price" was still too high by Tajhaani standards, yet when he learned what skills Urrit possessed he threw back his head and laughed, realizing he had not been fleeced after all. Through signs and the few Thrindi words he knew, Urrit had explained that he had learned his craft at a school where bed-slaves were trained. Tamasin listened, then wondered if he had somehow misunderstood, for such things did not exist on the island. Only later, after three hours of the most erotic, exhausting lovemaking he ever experienced, had he realized that it was true. The moon rose full over the sea, silvering the waves, yet on the heights around the villa the air remained warm. Servants opened the shutters to admit a faint breeze, while Keftu went to fetch Urrit. There was no ceremony. On any given night the chosen one simply appeared at the door and the servants, hustled by the steward, withdrew to another part of the house. Tamasin, clad in a plain linen robe, watched smiling as Urrit knelt at the edge of the carpet, a Tajhaani custom no amount of cajoling could get him to forsake. "Stand up, Urrit," laughed Tamasin, "and come here." Urrit rose gracefully and approached. The sash banded his narrow waist, its rich color and decoration complimenting his darker coloring. Kohl lined his eyes, a desert custom rarely seen on the island yet one that Tamasin did not mind. "There is ritual to follow, master," Urrit said in his halting Thrindi. "If I want ritual I'll go to the temple. Would you care for some wine, or anything else?" Tamasin gestured to the carafe 13


on the table beside him. As always, he knew what the answer would be. Urrit never drank or took any other liberties in his presence. Lovemaking was an art for him, and even in this strange land the proper forms must be observed. Tamasin rose and took Urrit in his arms for a kiss. Kissing was a skill the young man knew well, readily teaching his master tricks Tamasin then used with the other catamites, and with his wife, when Yansi showed interest in making love. Each time the kisses began with the lightest touch of lips, becoming firmer and more vigorous by degrees, building to the point where their tongues met. Exquisite tension. By the time their tongues were in each other's mouths Tamasin was painfully hard, ready to push Urrit down on his knees and take him. He never did. Yes, there were moments when he wanted to dispense with the stylized foreplay and begin a kiss with his tongue deep in Urrit's mouth. He wanted to nibble Urrit's ears and throat, yet whenever he tried he felt his partner withdraw from him. Never outright refusal, of course, just a subtle shift in tension that let him know his actions were inappropriate. Quite simply, he could tell Urrit that he wished to make love a certain way, but once engaged could not deviate from the path his partner believed they must follow. Tamasin could have insisted. He could have reminded Urrit that he was the master and this was not Tajhaan. Lovemaking should be natural, and what was more natural than lying beside one's partner and exploring intimacies of self as well as body? Urrit had been in his house long enough that his master should know him better, yet Tamasin 14


oftentimes felt he did not know the young man at all. He wanted to—wanted to lie close when they were finished and simply talk, but Urrit did not seem able to give more of himself than what lay on the surface, and Tamasin did not want to spoil their nights together by forcing him. When he had tasted his fill of Urrit's mouth he drew back. "Now take off your clothes for me." Here at least, he did not protest the rituals the art of stripping seemed to demand, not when Urrit made of the act such an enticingly languid dance. Always he began by sliding his hands up his sides, over his chest and down, teasing dusky nipples into taut buds as he went. Swaying to the rhythm of music only he seemed able to hear, he flattened his palms against his thighs, drawing them up to the sash around his waist. Tamasin's breath hitched in his throat. His cock throbbed with the need to possess the young man undulating before him, his fingers curled into fists to keep from tearing Urrit's garments loose in his impatience. Soon, soon, he told himself, and then the pleasure would be worth it. Nimble fingers undid the ties of the sash, slid it free, and let it fall to the carpet. Same with the fringed linen kilt. Urrit loosened the knot, then unwound the cloth, revealing the swell of firm buttocks as he turned. Tamasin's hand wandered to his groin, lightly stroking himself through his robe, his mouth dry as the kilt fell away and Urrit stood there, longlimbed and delicious, his cock nestled in dark curls, ready to be devoured. 15


If Tamasin found it disconcerting that Urrit was not yet erect, he reminded himself that the youth's training forbade him to become aroused or climax without his master's express permission. No matter how many times Tamasin reassured him that his desire was natural and needed no approval, Urrit hesitated. Does he not want me? Sometimes Tamasin wondered if Urrit knew what love really was, or if he had ever known passion beyond what his master commanded. A Thrindi youth never would have held back like this. The other way had its advantages, too. Stroking Urrit to full erection, then sliding a finger inside him to make him come gave Tamasin a sense of power he did not always feel with his other partners. When his other young men stripped and fondled themselves in front of him, he could never be sure he was the focus of their desire. As for his wife, Yansi writhed and made noises in bed, but he was certain she did not always enjoy his attentions. Tamasin took the young man in his arms. Sometimes he lifted his robe just enough to enter his partner and satisfy his desire. Tonight he exercised enough control to have Urrit undress him. Starting at his ankles, Urrit lavished his shins and calves with kisses, moving up toward his thighs in a trail of hot breath that ended at his groin. Tamasin gently took the garment's hem from Urrit, pulled the robe over his head, and flung it aside. Night air touched his heated skin, cooling his back and buttocks; it was not enough to distract him from the young man kneeling before him with his cock in his mouth. 16


No matter which of the three pleasured him in this way, Tamasin never tired of the sight. Urrit knew his craft well. Those lips knew how to swallow a man to the root, how to slide up and down the swollen shaft, and how to probe the slit with the tip of his tongue. Eyes half-closed, one hand fondling his master's balls, he devoured every inch of cock. Tamasin savored the tension building in his groin, the sight of Urrit's obvious pleasure, even the slurping noises his partner made. He thrust his hips slowly, setting a comfortable rhythm as his orgasm built. "I am going to come," he grunted. His hand, tangled in Urrit's dark hair, pressed the bobbing head close, holding it still as his hips bucked and his tempo increased. A spasm shuddered through his groin, and he felt his cock spurt. Groans escaped him as Urrit's lips and tongue expertly milked his shaft until the sensation was too much to bear. He carefully withdrew and let Urrit go. It was not over. Tamasin knew he could achieve more than one erection in a night. With Yansi he rarely tried, but with a delectable young man who had not yet had his first orgasm there was no reason why he should not prolong their lovemaking. Bending down, he drew Urrit to his feet and kissed him, tasting his own cum, pulling back only when Urrit tried to make the kiss conform to custom. "No, we are past those kinds of formalities. Let us just enjoy each other." Taking Urrit by the hand, he led him to the bed, piled high with linens and soft, bleached sheepskin, and laid him down among the pillows. 17


"The master is very kind," began Urrit, "but it is not necessary—" Always the same protest. Yes, it was necessary. However they did things in Tajhaan, Tamasin did not believe in taking passion without giving. "You will not leave this bed until you are satisfied." "Such effort—" Tamasin hushed him before bending to kiss his throat, his chest. Hard nipples rolled under his tongue; he rubbed them back and forth, circled them until Urrit began to respond. A hand tentatively brushed the back of his head, and soft, rapid breaths quickly became ragged gasps. Smiling, Tamasin slid a hand over Urrit's flat stomach to palm the cock he found bobbing there, and began to stroke the hot, dry shaft the way he liked to be touched. Another groan. Urrit's knees came up and his legs fell open, a wordless invitation that almost made Tamasin hard again. There would be time for that later. Tamasin licked his middle finger, coating it with saliva before inserting it. Urrit tensed around the digit, then relaxed his sphincter so Tamasin could work the finger in and out, brushing against the gland that would give him the most pleasure. "You like that, yes?" Tamasin laughed softly. "You have my permission to enjoy it, you know." When the mood struck him, he sometimes liked to bend down and lick the length of his partner's cock as he played with his ass; as long as he did not take the shaft into his mouth it was perfectly acceptable. Tamasin particularly enjoyed doing this with Urrit, who found the impropriety so 18


unnerving he often came the instant a hot tongue touched his cock. I ought to have one of the others suck him so I can watch. Tamasin had no doubt the three catamites had sex with each other when he was not present, and once he could afford it meant to have the Tajhaani masons install a latticework screen overlooking their bathing pool so he could watch them when they were wet and naked. Or perhaps I should have them perform a threesome for me. Such things were done elsewhere in Sull, he knew, and he intended to make inquiries to see how one properly arranged them. Touching the tip of his tongue to the veined underside of Urrit's cock, he licked his way up the shaft then down again. Urrit rewarded him with a loud groan and a ragged cry that he was ready. Tamasin, still pumping his finger in and out, sat back to watch the result: the slender body arching, white beads of cum spurting onto his belly. Tamasin withdrew his finger, cleaned it, then lay down beside Urrit, who was still trying to catch his breath. After a short rest they would begin again, this time at a more leisurely pace. Tamasin meant to end the night in that firm ass, and Urrit knew it. Flushed, he turned and touched Tamasin's face with tender fingertips. "I do these things properly for you, master. On my knees, so you are pleased." Or on his back or side, Tamasin had not yet decided. "I have never been displeased with you." "A good slave always takes care to please." It was no use trying to reassure the young man that a certain degree of informality was acceptable; he clung to his 19


Tajhaani ways along with his accent. "Urrit," Tamasin said softly, "are you happy here?" Urrit grinned and nodded vigorously. "Of course, master. There is much unhappiness in my land. Here is a good home, a good master." And Tamasin had no doubt that he meant it, only that there was something more behind those affectionate words, something he would never know. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two Summer was traditionally a time for festivals and trade in Thrindor, and preparation for the harvest. Merchant ships crowded the harbor at Sull, while fishermen took their boats out into deeper waters. Priests swept the temple grounds and washed down the altar in the court of the Bull, and at midsummer maidens would bring wildflower garlands as an offering to the Sun. Yet even in this restful time danger threatened the rhythms of life along the coast. Each day Keftu watched the sea from the heights overlooking Sull. Juvan pirates were known to board and sink ships suspected of doing business with Tajhaan. Occasional raids terrorized coastal settlements. On both sides the rulers of Tajhaan and Juva denounced the violence, swearing through their ambassadors that there would be peace. Between the words nothing changed. "War is good for some things," said the steward, "but bad for others." Keftu, like many, would never criticize the king outright, even though Marimos refused to increase the fleet patrolling Thrindor's waters. After all, Tajhaan and Juva had been at war for decades, and if neither kingdom had ventured to attack its neighbor across the sea in all that time, then, as most believed, an invasion would never take place. Thrindor grew complacent to the point where the king sent a token garrison to Sull and the other port towns, yet spent most of his maritime budget trying to rebuild the overseas trade lost 21


over the course of two centuries due to natural disaster and neglect. Tamasin did not share his steward's concerns. Pirates might burn and loot a few fishing villages, but they would have to be either foolhardy or very strong in numbers to attack Sull; he had no doubt the port was secure. Leaving the matter to Keftu, he concentrated his attention on the daily business of the villa. After a light breakfast he visited the olive grove on the south terraces. The trees, thriving in the rocky soil, were hardy, and he felt certain this year's crop would produce good quality oil; he regretted only that the fruits would be harvested in the winter during his absence. Keftu would see to the operation, he knew, and to the pressing afterward. On the north terrace Tamasin inspected the grapevines on their stakes. When he arrived the workers were pruning excess foliage to maximize the sunlight the fruit received. Harvest would come at summer's end, and he reflected with satisfaction that he would be able to supervise both this and the crushing in the great wooden vats before his departure. At midday a runner arrived bearing a wax tablet. Tamasin received this weekly news from the estate over a meal of goat's cheese, bread, and wine from last year's vintage. Emmer wheat and barley thrived in the fields, as he expected they would under the directions he had given the overseers, and the annual shearing had produced fine quality wool. On a more personal note Yansi informed him that their children were in excellent health and asking for him. Mornis, their son, wanted a horse though at four he was too young even for the 22


pony his father had promised him. Tamasin nodded his approval that in this matter at least he and his wife were in agreement. It took him a quarter of an hour to compose a reply, which the runner could carry back the next day. Noon settled on the villa in a shimmering, drowsy blaze of heat. Keftu called the workers indoors to rest, and Tamasin did likewise, retiring to a cot in a downstairs cubicle where the air was cooler. He slept lightly, without dreams, and rose late in the afternoon as the house began to stir once more. Once a week he might go over the household accounts with Keftu; it was a chore that could wait until tomorrow or the next day, as the villa had undertaken no major expenditures this year beyond the latticework screen. From now until evening he was free to pursue his own pleasure, and fully meant to do so. Urrit's exotic lovemaking had left him more than satisfied, if not a little thoughtful. Tamasin sensed the young man's gratitude at finding a kind master and haven from war-torn Tajhaan was sincere, though he did not necessarily believe Urrit's ostentatious praise. Such formulas might be commonplace, even required in the odalisques of Tajhaan, but Tamasin neither needed nor wanted flowery language. Thirty-eight might be approaching middle age, but his looking glass told him otherwise. No gray dulled his dark hair, and his body was as athletic and hard as it had been twenty years ago, certainly fit enough to satisfy the desires of any lusty young man or woman. 23


Tamasin liked to think his partners were happy. Their lives with him were certainly better than what they had known before, and when he watched them they seemed content. What passed through their minds he had no idea. A neighboring merchant had once confided that his four bedslaves thought nothing. Tamasin did not believe that. Each young man in his house possessed a different temperament, a unique way of expressing himself in bed. Surely they must have their own thoughts, preferences and dislikes, even their own ambitions. These he would have liked to know, if only to satisfy his own curiosity, except that it did no good to ask. Urrit would demur gracefully and claim ignorance of anything save a desire to please. Semoy and Elagan would simply find the question bewildering. Keftu brought that evening's slave to him in the downstairs apartment. Semoy was a fair-haired youth from Aesirra, Thrindor's westernmost port, and Tamasin knew more about his history than he did the other two. Western landlords, still burdened by refugees from the disaster on Sombar a halfcentury ago, had come to hold a kind of feudal authority over their tenants, and Semoy had been seized and sold as a slave in lieu of the rent his family could not pay. From there, he had been sent east to Sull, where the market for native-born youths yielded a good profit, and spent a week in a local brothel before the authorities shut down the establishment and arrested the proprietor for not paying his taxes. The man's goods, including the slaves, were sold at auction. Semoy wore the red sash awkwardly, with the knot clumsily tied at the back. The little bow he made at the 24


threshold was more graceful. Tamasin detected a Tajhaani flourish to the gesture, and guessed that Urrit must have tutored the youth. "You want me, sir?" "Of course," said Tamasin, smiling. "I was going to exercise, then enjoy a bath and supper. I would like you to join me." Where Urrit would have bowed his head in artful submission, and Elagan nodded in gleeful anticipation, Semoy's unquestioning obedience held a hint of reservation. Tamasin knew he was grateful to be owned by a master who did not beat or otherwise mistreat him, but wondered if Semoy did not sometimes find him distasteful. Keftu, who oversaw the slaves and had greater interaction with them, assured him that this was not so. "It's that he was taken from his family and forced to bed strange men," said the steward. "He has no complaints about you whatsoever, and has even said that you are very kind to him." But he does not say these things to me. When the time came, Tamasin had every intention of manumitting Semoy, giving him a present of money, and seeing him safely home if he wished to go. Yet it saddened him that the young man apparently did not feel comfortable enough to express his feelings openly. Does he not yet know that I will not hurt him, whether he likes everything we do or not? Semoy anxiously gestured to the red sash and his fringed kilt, neither of which were suitable for physical activity. Tamasin laughed, "I do not expect you to wear the sash when we wrestle, and I have a loincloth you may borrow." 25


Semoy was the most athletic of the three, able to run, wrestle, and spar. Stripping off both sash and kilt, he changed into the proffered loincloth before following Tamasin outdoors into the sandy enclosure where they would exercise. Tamasin took a position near the far wall and began to stretch, loosening muscles made stiff by last night's lovemaking and his afternoon nap. If he flexed and lunged more than was necessary, he could hardly help it. Half the joy in shared exercise was flaunting his physique before his partner, and admiring the supple, well-toned body on display before him. His cock began to stir under his thin loincloth. Semoy would certainly notice the partial erection. Though he would not comment, perhaps he would be flattered. From the jar Keftu had left for them, they rubbed olive oil over each other's limbs and torso in preparation. Tamasin did his best to concentrate on the wrestling match to come, yet as his hands relished the sensation of slick oil gliding over firm, sun-kissed skin he found his thoughts begin to wander. Wrestling would give him the opportunity to pin the younger man to the sand, to straddle him and feel bare skin sliding under him. Semoy might even respond, might grow hard enough that Tamasin could turn him over on his hands and knees and take him right there. Those lustful thoughts were difficult to bring under control, especially when Semoy began smoothing the oil over his arms and chest. Tamasin forced himself to breathe, and to ignore the throbbing in his groin. Semoy was not Elagan, who enjoyed erotic games. His lovemaking was hesitant, even clumsy on occasion, but he was a willing partner. Tamasin 26


judged it best not to ruin the rapport they had established with any sudden, lustful vigor. How difficult it was! They took their positions on the sand, grunting and breathing hard as they lunged, feinted, and tried to seize each other for the toss and pin. Tamasin took easily to competition, yet when the contest felt more like a courtship dance than a simple exercise between two men he could not focus on his goal. Not when his prey kept darting aside, slipping his grasp and laughing. Tamasin's arousal raged through him. He was a bull, sucking air through clenched teeth, his erection at full-mast. He wanted this young man, wanted him pinned on his belly in the sand now, and would have continued the pursuit had Keftu not rescued the situation. The steward, standing on the edge of the sand with a knowing look on his face, cleared his throat. "Your bath is ready, sir." A cool cloth to the face and neck restored some calm. "You did well," Tamasin told Semoy. "We will go in now and enjoy a bath and supper." Slaves had dragged buckets of hot water to fill the wide wooden tub in the bathing room. Steam misted the air. Not caring who saw his erection, Tamasin stripped off his loincloth and sat on the bench against the wall. A body servant waited with strigil and towel, which Tamasin took before dismissing the man. "Semoy, you will find another strigil on the shelf there," he said. Had he been selfish he might have insisted that the young man scrape the sand and oil off his body; he knew the 27


contact would only enflame him further, and he meant to remain in control at least until they climbed into the bath. Once they slid into the warm water, that was different. Lusts could be indulged. Tamasin splashed water over his shoulders and dunked his head, nodding in satisfaction that the slaves had left out the scented oils his wife preferred. The water was clear enough that he could see the effect their time together had on his partner; the young man's erect cock bobbed in the water. Tamasin suppressed a smile. Semoy's body enjoyed making love with a man, even if he himself did not. Propelling himself through the water, Tamasin caught Semoy in his arms and kissed him. Not with the slow formality Urrit demanded, but spontaneously and fiercely, slipping an eager tongue into his lover's mouth. Semoy responded, accepting the tongue and the erection rubbing against his belly, yet Tamasin always noted how little skill in foreplay he possessed. It was with some amusement that Tamasin often caught him attempting techniques that Urrit must have taught him. "Stop trying so hard and just enjoy it. That's what making love is about." To emphasize his point, he slid an arm around Semoy's waist and drew him even closer. A blush, apparent even under his heated skin, crept over Semoy's face. "I want to please you." "I called you here because you do please me." "Urrit—"

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Tamasin pressed a finger to his lips. "I also called you here because you are not Urrit—or Elagan. It is Semoy that I want, not some cheap Tajhaani harem tricks." After a little more foreplay, Semoy began to relax. His hand caressing the young man's buttocks, his tongue delving hotly into Semoy's ear, Tamasin encouraged him to rub up against him. A woman would have had her legs locked around his waist by now, and Tamasin had known a handful of eager male lovers who had done the same, offering their asses and begging to be fucked. Semoy, however, took his pleasure quietly, even when Tamasin reached down and began to fondle him, rocking back and forth, moaning softly into his master's chest. Tamasin held him as he shuddered in climax, then kissed him. By now his need was so great it was almost painful. Part of him wanted to sit up out of the water and have Semoy suck him, but the young man lacked the skill to take him as deeply as Urrit or even Elagan could. For now it was enough to lean back against the edge of the tub, guide Semoy's hand to his cock, and watch him pump it in his fist until he came. Together they climbed out of the cooling water and wrapped towels around themselves. Outside, sunset colored the sky, lengthening the shadows across the courtyard. "Supper will be upstairs," said Tamasin. "I think we are both hungry." Semoy regarded the suggestion with bewilderment. "You want me to eat with you?" Tamasin laughed. "What—did you think I would banish you back to you quarters once I was done?" Is that what you want 29


me to do? "Why did you think I called you to wrestle with me?" Semoy carefully considered his answer. "Because Urrit doesn't know how, and Elagan isn't very good at it, and—" "Yes?" Tamasin noted his partner's deep blush, a trait he found charming because it told him that Semoy felt. "You were going to say?" "Well, I—that is—you wanted somebody to admire you while you flexed and oiled yourself." Now Tamasin laughed even harder, and clapped Semoy on the back when the youth, thinking he had erred, started to apologize. "All right, so I am vain, but I still want your company." On a terrace with a magnificent view of the harbor, now fading from view in streaks of magenta and cobalt, they shared a simple meal of baked fish, flat bread flavored with cheese, and slices of melon. Tamasin drank crisp white wine he had brought with him from the inland estate; he did not offer any to Semoy, who, having drunk only ale or spring water in his village, had little tolerance for alcohol. It was not the first time they had eaten together, but somehow it always felt awkward. On most nights, Tamasin would linger over dessert to engage Semoy in conversation, and try to coax a few words or a smile from the reticent young man, but not tonight. His orgasm in the pool had been good, just not enough. Without a word, he took Semoy's hand and led him to the bed. After stripping away the towel Semoy wore as a kilt, Tamasin bent over him and slowly began making love to him. 30


He lingered over their foreplay, encouraging his partner with gestures and soft words to touch him, lightly licking his nipples into hard little nubs. Semoy, his head thrown to one side, eyes closed and lips parted, moaned. There could be no faking the rosy flush of arousal that crept over his skin, or the erection rising between his legs. Only in reciprocating did he remain awkward, his hands frozen when a bolder partner would have been running them over Tamasin's back and shoulders. Even in his passion he seemed bewildered that his master cared how he liked their lovemaking. Only a week in that brothel, reflected Tamasin, and it was too long. Semoy never talked about what he had done there. It did not matter. Tamasin had visited such places in his youth, and remembered them chiefly for their dinginess. They were hovels filled with the debris of humanity, where the basest human drives of lust and greed killed the spirit. "You know you do not have to be afraid, or ask permission to touch me," he said. "I'm not afraid, sir," replied Semoy. "It's just that you do so much, and you don't have to." "Would you prefer that I simply stick it in you and finish?" Semoy flinched at the apparent reprimand. "No, sir, but I'm not used to—in my village, that is—" So that was the problem: a young peasant accustomed only to groping and fumbling in dark corners with a girl or boy who knew as little about foreplay as he did. "This is not your village." Tamasin shifted onto his side, propped his chin on 31


his hand, and gazed down. "I enjoy it when my partners come, and I enjoy making them come." "Sex is easier with a man." Tamasin laughed, "Ah, so you have been with a woman!" Given the young man's taciturn nature, probably he should not have teased, yet he could not help it. At eighteen, Semoy was more than old enough to have courted a girl, and those memories need not be tainted by anything that came after. Have you ever been in love, Semoy? "I was once your age, you know, and had my share of innocent affairs with the local girls and not a few boys, so you need not tell me about that part. But now I want to know: do you want me to hurry up and finish because you are weary of me, or because the pleasure is too much for you?" Whatever the answer, it would probably be couched in some form of flattery. Tamasin could already hear Urrit praising his skill and stamina, and Elagan professing a desire to make love all night if his master wished. Semoy lacked imagination for either. He would state his obedience in the plainest terms: if the master wanted him this way he would not complain. I am a fool for even asking, thought Tamasin. "It isn't necessary, sir. I was ready before." So simple, yet unexpected, and in his amazement Tamasin knew it was the truth. Have you ever been in love? Let me be the one. "When we first lay down, or before that, downstairs?" "You wanted me when we were wrestling, sir." 32


At this, Tamasin laughed. "Yes, but there are some places sand does not belong." Bending his head, he covered Semoy's mouth with his own. "Are you ready for me now?" Fingers enclosed his wrist, and to his surprise Semoy guided his hand to his erect cock. Let me be the one. "Yes, sir." Tamasin took him twice that night, riding him once from behind as he had yearned to do while they were wrestling, then from below, letting Semoy straddle him and control his own penetration. For Tamasin had observed that when he felt safe enough Semoy could be passionate, even uninhibited. Knowing this, Tamasin found as much satisfaction in watching him rub his own nipples and fist his own cock as he did in thrusting in and out of the young man's body. Afterward, when their desire was spent, Tamasin rose from the bed and went to the sideboard. From a little ebony box he drew a glittering chain, which he placed in Semoy's hands. "You left the red sash downstairs," he said. "You hardly had the chance to wear it at all tonight." Semoy stared in disbelief at the gold necklace as though it was the finest thing he had ever held. Perhaps, Tamasin reflected sadly, it was. "You don't have to give me this, sir." When he would have given the chain back, Tamasin covered his hands with his own. "You have not been here long enough, or you would know I also give trinkets to Urrit and Elagan. I told you when you first came here that I reward honesty and hard work." Still holding Semoy's fingers closed over the chain, Tamasin kissed him. "Enjoy your reward. You have earned it." 33


Only when Tamasin was alone again did it occur to him that he had not rewarded Semoy so much as embarrassed him. He came to this house fresh from the auction block, with nothing but the clothes on his back. Keftu certainly had not intended the rustic young man for the master's bed, even admitting as much later when Tamasin openly admired the youth's beauty and shy, blushing manner. "He's strong and healthy," the steward had said, "and we can always use another hard worker. It seems Semoy has had enough of rough men." "So you think I am a rough man, do you?" Tamasin set aside the wax tablet on which he had been composing a message to his children. "I have not even decided whether or not to bed him, and already you judge me. Whatever I do, I certainly will not harm him." But he had decided. From the moment the steward had brought the new laborer in to meet the master Tamasin had known he would make this young man with his firm body and wheaten hair his. Why he did not know. Perhaps it was nothing more than a nobleman's desire to undo what he perceived as a terrible injustice. I want to be the one. Coaxing Semoy's passion from him was a challenge in which he found delight, yet on occasion he wondered if his joy was not selfish. Surely it would have been kinder to take Keftu's advice and kept Semoy as a laborer who would live and work under a benevolent master, one who would never demand from him the vile things he had been made to do in the brothel. 34


While Semoy's body responded to stimulation, it was foolish to assume he enjoyed sex. Men did not always appreciate being at the mercy of their cock. Even after a season he scarcely knew how to kiss, and did not know what to do with his hands in bed. Now he did not know what to do with the gifts his master gave him. Gold is too much for a first gift, thought Tamasin. I should have given him something more modest. It was too late now to undo his generous impulse, just as it was too late to smother his desire. He could not in good conscience send Semoy to the fields after having bedded him and housed him among his other catamites. Not only would Urrit and Elagan tease him, but Semoy himself would not understand. His shy, reticent nature would lead him to assume he had done something wrong when in truth it was the master who had erred. [Back to Table of Contents]

35


Chapter Three The port of Sull housed the largest market on Thrindor's eastern coast. From the surrounding regions came farmers, fishermen, and merchants, some journeying many days to bring their goods to market. The Earth Mother had blessed Thrindor with fertile soil and temperate weather, making it possible for its people to produce all the goods it needed. One could visit any market or trade fair on the island and purchase native olive oil, wine, wool, and leather. Keftu oversaw the household stores, and regularly sent slaves into the town to buy daily supplies. Large purchases he made personally. Tamasin inspected the receipts, yet rarely accompanied the steward unless there was an item he particularly wanted. Most often these were luxury goods brought into the port through maritime trade: gold from Juva, fine silks from Rhodeen, carpets and pottery from Khalgar, furs and amber from more distant lands. Rarity made these excursions a treat. Tamasin did more browsing and socializing than buying, which did not endear him to the vendors. Still he considered this time well-spent. Aside from inspecting the local produce and wares, he talked business with farmers and fishermen, and exchanged news with foreign merchants. The conflict between Tajhaan and Juva, more than two centuries old, had reached a stalemate that did little to ease tensions among their neighbors. If only one side was strong enough to dominate the other. Such was the refrain often heard in the port these days. At 36


this point, Tamasin hardly cared which side emerged victorious. For the sake of trade, he only wanted to see an end, though there was no guarantee that the victor would not turn next on Thrindor, its once-mighty navy decimated by the Somba eruption. Of course, the chariot makers, horse breeders, armorers, and anyone else who supplied the two armies prospered. Everyone else suffered, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the luxury markets. Prices for silk, gold, and scented oils had risen to ridiculous levels. "Are you trying to rob me?" snapped Tamasin, tossing back a bit of blue gauze that now cost three times what it ought. Stalls selling Khalgari red ware, rare woods, and furs awaited him farther down the street, no doubt with similar inflated prices. The vendor, a rodent-faced man with dark hair, showed little sympathy. "You have a complaint you'd better take it up with the pirates stirring up trouble out there." He made a vague gesture toward the harbor. "Merchant ships are now demanding hazard pay against pirates. Prices go up. Nothing I can do about it." Tamasin returned to the villa empty handed and fuming. Eventually he would have to return and make a purchase, for he could not go home without suitable presents for Yansi and the children. That spring his wife had hinted none too subtly that she wanted Rhodeen silk. If she expected material for a dress she would have to wait. On a subsequent trip, Tamasin bartered for just enough sky blue silk to make a shawl. For his daughters he found 37


native freshwater pearls they could string into necklaces or sew onto their clothing, and for his son a finely carved ivory horse in lieu of the one he was too young to ride. His purchases left him no money to spend on himself, a loss he accepted with good grace. His villa contained other luxuries, and he meant to enjoy them all before his departure. Where Keftu had discovered Elagan, or how, Tamasin could not recall. The oldest of his catamites, the young man seemed to have come with the villa, his long ringlets as dark as the olives growing on the terraces, his eyes as blue as the harbor waters. Elagan was also the most intelligent of the three, able to read and write, possessing a sly sense of humor and an insatiable appetite for erotic games his master did not always appreciate. Making love with Elagan was a battle for dominance. More often than not, Tamasin left their encounters exhausted and wishing he had seized control. By the time he was ready to do so, however, he was usually lost in the ecstasy of whatever fantasy Elagan had devised for him. He might easily shove Elagan onto his back, straddle him, and shove his cock into the young man's mouth for all the good it was likely to do. For even when Elagan was pinned or tied up he somehow remained in control. "I heard you went to the market today," he said. Here it comes. The cooing voice, the fingers idly toying with his hair and collar: Elagan wanted something. "No, I did not buy you anything," replied Tamasin. "The merchants are charging too much for their wares." 38


Elagan did not relent. "I was not going to ask that, dear." Hot breath tickled the inside of Tamasin's ear. "But perhaps you could tell Keftu that when he goes out he might take us with him? We never get to go shopping." "Keftu is not going to buy you anything either." Now Elagan drew back and laughed. "I was not going to suggest that. We have a little coin to spend. Semoy and I sometimes help in the kitchen or elsewhere about the house. Keftu gives us a few coins when he can." This was something Tamasin had not known, though he did not necessarily disapprove. Everyone at the villa was expected to work according to their capacity. "And what about Urrit?" he asked. "Does he not help you?" More laughter. "Oh, he clings to his desert ways. In Tajhaan, he says, bed-slaves never dirty their hands with servants' work. But we share with him anyway." Tamasin did not find this surprising. "I will talk with Keftu, but you will not find any ornaments you can afford. Pirates are driving up the price of imports." Elagan twined an arm around his and snuggled close. "Will they come here?" His voice dropped low, as though he were a maiden or child rather than a twenty-year-old man capable of defending himself. Tamasin shook his head. "No pirate would dare attack a port as large as Sull." These days, that was not entirely true. Tamasin, however, saw no reason to alarm his servants. "But they rape and pillage, yes?" Tamasin immediately saw where Elagan was going with this, and sighed inwardly. Can 39


we not enjoy some simple lovemaking? Why must everything with you be so elaborate, so rehearsed? "I have never seen a pirate. Maybe you could show me how they pillage their captives?" "Goods are pillaged," Tamasin said crossly. "Captives are raped." That should have been enough to stop any further probing. With Elagan, however, it was never enough. "I am your property, you know." Tamasin turned his head to glare at him. "It would not hurt you some nights to simply lie still and let me fuck you." A kiss landed lightly on the tip of his nose. "That would bore you, dear. You would not call me up here if you did not want some excitement." As much as he rued it, Tamasin had to admit it was true. "I think you enjoy it far more than I," he sighed. He knew he could insist, having done so in the past, but the effort would avail him nothing. Elagan would simply challenge him, using every trick at his disposal to drive his uncooperative master wild with arousal until Tamasin gave in. So Tamasin would compromise, giving Elagan the rough sex he wanted now, then taking his time, afterward when the young man was too spent to resist. "Then find me something to bind you with." When Elagan proffered the elaborate red sash knotted about his waist Tamasin immediately shook his head and chided him. "You know better than that." Elagan undressed and knelt on the bed before crossing his wrists behind his back; Tamasin secured them with a silk sash. "Now bend over and show me your tight little ass." With 40


a hand on his back, he pushed Elagan forward and began to fondle his buttocks and the cleft between. Elagan enjoyed this play, especially the wet finger rubbing and probing his entrance, but what truly aroused him was the vigorous spanking Tamasin eventually gave him. The harder the blows and the redder his skin became, the more he moaned, and from experience Tamasin knew that if he smacked Elagan's ass while fucking him the young man would scream in ecstasy. The sound would also awaken the entire household, which was why Tamasin held back. Twining his fingers in Elagan's hair, he pulled the young man upright once more and began to pinch his nipples, twisting them hard enough for pain while ignoring the erect cock swelling against Elagan's belly. Instead he concentrated on his own pleasure, pushing Elagan's head to his groin and feeding him the entire length of his cock, thrusting in and out with abandon because the young man's skill ensured he could do no real harm. More than that, Tamasin dared not do. Certainly he was not about to act the part of the pirate as Elagan suggested, no more than he intended to beat his partner or use profanity, although he knew that Elagan actually enjoyed the latter. While other men might be aroused by crude language or brutality, even in play, the need for these things baffled him. Not because he did not come while engaging his partner this way, for he did and hard, but rather because he failed to comprehend how Elagan could possibly derive pleasure from pain or humiliation. 41


"I am completely in your power, master." Hands still tied, Elagan licked Tamasin's spent cock clean. "You can do anything you want to me." Tamasin reached around to undo the silk bindings. "And you like that?" Elagan straightened, licked the last traces of cum from his lips, and stretched. "Utterly, master," he said. "I have no idea what you will do to me." "And you are not afraid that I will hurt you?" It was not the first time Tamasin had asked; the answer was never satisfactory. He could not seriously imagine Elagan enjoying sex with a genuine brute, and yet, the thoughts that entered his mind when bedding the young man unnerved him. Chief among them, the possibility that Elagan really would enjoy it. Wild images flooded his imagination, tempting him to bring other men to the house and watch them shove their cocks into Elagan's mouth and ass. Fantasies that simultaneously aroused and repelled him, so that after his lust was spent he had a sour taste in his mouth. He could sell Elagan, and probably should, yet time and again he held back. Of all his partners, Elagan alone was uninhibited in bed, the only one brave enough to engage Tamasin in conversation. "Not at all, master," replied Elagan. Tamasin touched his chin, tilting it so Elagan was forced to look up at him. "You speak of submission, yet you do not always let me do as I wish." Lips curved into a sensual, knowing smile. "You are too gentle, master. I want to know that you are in me." 42


There were a thousand different ways that could have been accomplished, without resorting to games or brute force. "And this is the only way?" asked Tamasin. "By having me spank you and use foul language when I fuck you?" Fuck. A base word, yet the only apt description. Nothing he did with Elagan could be called making love. Sighing, Elagan lay back among the pillows, the very image of languor. "Did Keftu ever tell you where I came from?" "You came with the house." "Yes, because I belonged to the previous owner, and when he died there were no heirs to claim me," said Elagan. "But before that I lived in a brothel by the spice market. I was born there, you know. My mother was a whore. When I was old enough, I did the same. After so many men one does not feel anything, not pleasure, not pain. A man is simply another chore. I do not think you should be like those men. After all, you are my master, not a mere customer." These things Tamasin had not known. The explanation made sense, and yet it did not. Some of those customers had beaten Elagan, he was sure. None of them would have given him pleasure. I would give you that if you would but let me. I could teach you how to love. "Surely you are tired of being a whore?" Elagan shook his head. His smile had dissipated; his eyes shone hard. "That depends on the man who keeps me. You have been good to me. I have a pretty house to live in and nice clothes to wear, and I enjoy it when you punish me." 43


Punish. How Tamasin hated that word, no matter how Elagan meant it. "Very well," he said. "I will punish you then." Softness returned to Elagan's gaze. "What is your pleasure, master?" "Take your cock in your hand and make yourself come." Subtle it was, but a punishment nonetheless. Elagan never touched himself unless he initiated the teasing as part of an erotic game, or he already had a cock thrusting hard inside him. Not surprisingly, he demurred, "You know I am not used to doing that." "Your customers in the brothel never asked?" "They were not interested in my pleasure," explained Elagan. "Of course, they liked watching while they were fucking me, but only then." His gaze slid to Tamasin's groin and lingered for a long, suggestive moment. "Perhaps you could—?" Tamasin smiled and shook his head. "Do as I told you." Elagan closed his eyes, grasped his limp cock, and began to stroke. Tamasin watched with interest, his erection stirring at the sight. "That is it," he said. "Pump your cock. Now touch your nipples. Rub them for me. Make them hard." "Oh, yes," breathed Elagan. He began to roll his nipples between his fingers, pinching them hard, and when he licked one finger and started to play with his ass he moaned. Grasping his own cock, pumping it slowly, Tamasin rose and knelt beside him. Elagan opened his eyes, beseeching him to thrust into his mouth, frowning when Tamasin refused. "If you want to come you will have to do it yourself. Now let me see how well you stroke your cock." 44


Elagan kept his eyes open, fixed on the cock before him. He licked his lips as he strove toward his climax, and Tamasin knew it was the thought of the fucking and sucking he could not have that fueled his desire. His frustration made Tamasin smile, then grit his teeth as he began to reach his peak. He squeezed his cock, shaking droplets of cum onto Elagan's belly. Eyes widening, Elagan groaned and arched his back. Semen jetted from between his fingers onto his chest. As his body relaxed he smeared his cum over his nipples, letting it mingle with Tamasin's seed. He tasted it, sucking on his index finger before offering some to Tamasin. "That was good," he murmured. Tamasin bent and took the finger in his mouth. "Yes, this time you did better." "You will let me suck you next time, yes?" "I might, if you deserve it." Tamasin rolled his tongue over the salty taste in his mouth; it was not often that he tasted semen. Elagan groaned and slumped back among the cushions. "Now you are truly punishing me!" At this, Tamasin could not resist smiling. "And here you told me you liked being punished. Truly, what am I to do with you?" After a moment's silence, Elagan answered, "I am sure you will think of something." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four Harvest came with cloudless skies and hot weather. Tamasin gave thanks to the gods for this small discomfort, for it meant no sudden downpour would ruin the crops at either the villa or on his estate. He knew Yansi would have been up long before dawn along with the overseers and slaves, shielding her complexion with a wide-brimmed hat as she moved up and down the fields supervising the cutting of the sheaves. This year their daughters would help the crones plait the corn maiden and adorn it with flowers and ribbons. Bonfires would burn this night throughout the valleys surrounding the capital. That Yansi would take a lover tonight, Tamasin had no doubt. As a Thrindi noblewoman it was her right, and he did not begrudge her any pleasure she took as long as the man was discreet and did not presume to usurp his place. That morning, Tamasin sent a runner inland with wine and cakes, gifts to celebrate the season and announce his own imminent homecoming. From sunrise, he worked alongside his slaves in the vineyard to harvest the grapes. In a shaded courtyard nearby, women and the older children sat with the produce at their feet, removing the stems and separating the fruits so they could be crushed. Treading would begin tomorrow. Tonight there would be a feast, though the harvest might not be completed for another day or two. Aromas of roasting meat and baking bread wafted out to the vineyard, and 46


Keftu's slaves returned from the market bearing fish and two large wheels of cheese. When Tamasin returned to the house at midday for a bath, he encountered Elagan and Semoy seated among baskets of flowers in the atrium, and in a side chamber that served as the household shrine he spied a servant making an offering to the Great Bull who ruled both earth and sea. Flowers twined around the cup of wine and candles already left on the altar for the sun goddess and Earth Mother. The young men were weaving garlands for the feast, twining poppies and cornflowers with patient hands. Tamasin plucked two blossoms and handed them to his lovers. "Wear these tonight," he said, smiling. "Think of me." Semoy blushed as scarlet as the poppy in his hand. Elagan simply tucked the cornflower behind his ear. "Urrit is not helping you?" asked Tamasin. "We asked," said Elagan, "but he told us he does not do such work. He would rather paint his nails, I think." Frowning, Tamasin glanced over at Semoy, who kept his head bent over his garland. "Is that true, Semoy? Is Urrit really lazing about upstairs while everyone else is hard at work?" "I suppose, sir," Semoy answered quietly. The first thing Tamasin meant to do was to find Keftu and send him to Urrit with a reprimand and orders to come downstairs, and if he could not locate the steward he would do it himself. No one in his household, not even his own children, was above working at harvest time. Urrit could not 47


be allowed to think he was special. "I will send him down here straightaway." Elagan shrugged. "We do not really need him." "Do not be snide." Hot and tired, Tamasin found he had increasingly little patience for foolishness. "If he does not come down here and help you he will be treading grapes tomorrow morning." "I should like to see that, master." "Indeed, because you will be joining him." A bath and short rest improved his spirits, and by sunset he had forgotten his irritation with Urrit and Elagan. Delicious food smells permeated the warm air; his belly growled in anticipation of the feast to come. By now the household would have retired indoors, given leave from the harvest to rest and prepare. Tamasin donned his finest tunic, silken soft linen from Juva embroidered at the hem and collar with grape leaves, rubbed down with olive oil to make it shine. Yansi had it made for him three years ago in appreciation of the first year's vintage he had sent her. After his children, he judged it the best gift she had ever given him. Workers and their families were mingling, some playing music or doing sleight-of-hand tricks, when he descended into the garlanded atrium. Trestle tables and benches filled the open space, and from the rafters men had begun to hang lanterns. The master's arrival meant the feast could begin. Keftu signaled the kitchen servants to bring out platters of roast lamb, pork, and baked fish. Baskets of bread and amphorae of wine and ale, cooled for the day in the atrium fountain, 48


followed. Applause greeted the arrival of the food, then a moment of silence as Tamasin poured the customary libation to the gods who watched over the house and granted the harvest. Once this duty was observed, the bread could be broken. Tamasin noticed his three catamites seated alongside the steward's family. Each embellished his embroidered clothing with jewelry and cosmetics, and Semoy and Elagan wore the flowers Tamasin had given them. Urrit maintained a sullen look, while Elagan tossed his oiled ringlets and gazed at Tamasin with unabashed appreciation. Doubtless he intended to wear the red sash tonight. He smiles as though it is already in his hand. Tamasin hid his ironic grin behind a cup of wine. We will see. As his gaze shifted over to Semoy he squinted. Something was not quite right; it took him a moment to realize what it was. "Semoy, why are you not wearing the gold necklace I gave you?" Glancing up from his plate with a frightened, guilty look, Semoy opened his mouth to speak. No sound came out, not a squeak and certainly not the explanation Tamasin waited to hear. Tamasin sighed heavily. "We will discuss this later." His appetite now somewhat diminished, Tamasin ignored the conversation around him and instead brooded over the contents of his cup. He hated to think that Semoy had scorned his gift, but when he recalled how reluctantly the young man had accepted it there seemed no other explanation, even when Keftu leaned over to assure him that the situation was not as he thought. 49


They take my gifts, they smile and tell me what a good lover I am—and like some drunken sot in a brothel I believe them. What a fool I am! "I do not want to discuss it," he muttered. Tomorrow, perhaps, when he was in a better mood, but not tonight. Tonight he did not intend to send for any of them. There is only one thing they want from me, only one thing that truly matters to them. The red sash would remain in its box. He would sleep alone that night. **** As the morning coolness began to leave the air the workers had already been treading grapes in the great wooden vat for several hours. Two women remained on hand to offer encouragement and add the occasional basket of fresh grapes to the mix. At midmorning the treading would stop just long enough to allow the tired workers to climb out of the vat and others to take their place, while out in the vineyard the harvest continued. Tamasin inspected the work, nodding his satisfaction. Yesterday he had sampled the grapes, breaking the skin between his teeth to release the sweet juice, and judged that once fermented they would make an excellent wine. Keftu would oversee the fermentation, pressing, and aging process, regular reports of which he would send inland along with the first produce of the olive harvest. Though he easily could have spent many more weeks in Sull, Tamasin remembered his agreement with Yansi. Once the grape harvest came in he must return home. Already he 50


had begun to prepare, packing goods and personal necessities for the trip. Keftu's able management did not require his presence, and the steward would know best how to keep the catamites happy. This afternoon he meant to speak with Semoy about the necklace. Last night Keftu had started to tell him something, and now that his anger had cooled Tamasin regretted not inquiring further. Surely I have misunderstood, he thought. Leaving the vat he turned back toward the house, contemplating what he would say to the young man when the ground suddenly lurched under him. For a moment Tamasin could not comprehend what he had felt, and was tempted to dismiss it as a symptom of the rising heat and too much wine the night before, but the movement continued. Before his eyes he saw the ground tilt, felt the violent jolt, and heard multiple cries of alarm behind him. The villa swayed precariously, dislodging roof tiles that shattered on the pavement below. Servants fled outside, and even the workers in the treading vat scrambled out in search of open ground as the earth continued to shake. Tamasin stumbled toward the terrace with its sturdy olive trees. Even they, solid and immovable, trembled against their roots. Dust rose in clouds around him. He spilled to the ground, tearing bare knees on the rocky soil, and prayed the earth would not split open. And then it stopped. Another jolt shuddered through him as he rose shakily to his feet. Aftershocks followed in rapid succession, making it difficult to stand, but Tamasin managed to keep his balance. 51


Ignoring the stinging pain in his knees and palms, he looked over the heads of the cowering servants and field hands to the villa. Jagged cracks rent the plaster, broken tiles lay scattered, yet the house remained standing. Such occurrences were not uncommon. In his father's day, Sombar's ash cloud had covered all eastern Thrindor. Violent tremors rocked the great palaces in Aesirra and Viduya, and Tamasin had grown up hearing tales of the great wall of water—higher than the tallest tree—that slammed into the coast, tearing homes from their foundations, tossing ships onto mountainsides, and sweeping people out to sea. All his life, Tamasin had felt the island tremble under him, a reminder that Great Bull, who had destroyed beautiful Sombar in his anger, was not to be ignored. Rarely, however, did the earth shake with such violence as it had now. Curiosity propelled him to the edge of the terrace. From his vantage point he saw people running in the streets, some injured and others clutching belongings. A pall of dust hung over the town. Through the haze he discerned several collapsed buildings, mostly the tenements nearest the waterfront. Neither that sight nor the people swarming the debris in search of survivors surprised him. Those structures, meant to replace sturdier buildings destroyed a generation ago, had been hastily erected only within the last few years, and housed visiting sailors, fishermen, and families too poor to find lodgings elsewhere. Tamasin's gaze drifted out to the harbor. There he saw something so bizarre it frightened him, for tales of receding 52


waters had come down to him from his elderly nurse, who had survived the great wave that inundated Aesirra fifty years ago, and through her words he instinctively knew what was about to happen. People rushed out into the empty harbor, marveling at the fish flopping on the sands and the ships left stranded amidst their own anchors. They never saw the waves pull back and gather in strength to rush back toward shore. They never realized their danger, even with the tales of Sombar so fresh in the collective memory, even when centuries of life by the sea should have warned them to flee toward high ground. Tamasin shouted frantically, but even then, even had anyone heard him, it was too late. In an instant the sea slammed into the harbor, carrying with it ships, pieces of broken buildings, and those hapless souls who tried to run. The waters rushed down streets, sweeping half a mile inland before pulling back, sucking debris and corpses out to sea. "Look at that," gasped Keftu, who had run to the edge of the terrace in answer to Tamasin's shouts. Half the harbor was gone. Shattered buildings clung to the heights that had been above the waters. Below, the streets lay devastated, littered with wreckage and bodies. A fishing boat lay on its side, its mast snapped in half like a stick. Tamasin could not tear his eyes away, could not breathe for the unimaginable power of the Great Bull that trampled earth and sea in his wrath. He felt Keftu's hand on his arm, gently pulling him away as another tremor shook the terrace. "The Bull shows his anger." 53


Tamasin was in no mood to debate the god's obvious displeasure, not when he knew he had made the proper sacrifices. Across the heights the temples stood largely intact. Any priests who survived would stalk the ruins haranguing the survivors for their lack of piety and demand greater offerings. It was for man's pride and laziness that the gods ruined Sombar. Beware! For their fate will be yours! So the doomsayers these days did a brisk business. "The sea comes and yet the people still run out to watch." "They forget the stories, or dismiss them as exaggeration." Keftu nodded toward the ruined harbor, where stunned survivors had already begun to pick among the rubble. "Look, the sea comes again." A second wave, this one smaller than the first, crashed into the waterfront and sent people running. "How long can it continue?" asked Tamasin. "As long as the earth shakes," replied Keftu. "We are safe up here as long as the hill does not slide away below us." There had been some damage, but not much. Tamasin inspected the cracked plaster and broken tiles with relief, mingled with amazement that no one had been killed. Most of the household had been outdoors when the quake struck. Nerves were frayed, and few were willing to venture back inside while the earth still moved, but injuries were few and relatively minor. "The boys are fine," said Keftu. "Urrit was more frightened than bruised. The other two had more sense, and took shelter under a doorway. They are outside now. Urrit is still shaking and weeping. Semoy and Elagan are doing what they can to help." 54


Earth tremors were rare in Tajhaan. No one could fault Urrit for being terrified, or not knowing what to do. "Let him alone," said Tamasin. "When he is calm, put him to work as you see fit." Keftu organized crews of workers to go into the storerooms and bring up supplies, while others partitioned a square of open ground for use as a campsite. As long as the weather remained fair, Tamasin did not mind sleeping outdoors. Hopefully the runner he had sent inland would return with good news of his family. For he knew that as long as the shaking continued and the town remained in ruins below that he could not leave the villa and its people unattended. It might be a year or more before life returned to normal. Keftu warned them there might be looting as survivors came up from the harbor in search of food and shelter. "I have posted guards, but if an entire mob comes there is not much we can do except to flee." As he scanned the hills behind the villa, marking the dust clouds and falls of loose stone dislodged by the aftershocks, Tamasin had an idea. "Empty the storerooms as much as you can and take them up one of the old goat paths," he told Keftu. "We can hide supplies and valuables in some of the caves." The steward hesitated. "It may not be safe." "It is safer than waiting to be attacked and robbed," answered Tamasin. After a moment he added, "Leave something behind, so if looters come they will think they have taken it all and not return." 55


Toward afternoon, as the earth settled, the workers returned to the vats, picked out bits of chipped plaster and tile, and resumed treading grapes. Aside from the camp on the hillside, with its cooking fire and freshly dug latrine trench, life had regained some sense of normalcy. Children were even playing among the olive groves, though they often paused in their games to watch the activity below. Tamasin, fearing they would jeer at the survivors or reveal that they had food and other supplies, soon ordered them away from the terraces. Just before sunset, the aftershocks had subsided enough that he felt able to venture back into the villa. Servants had already gathered his clothes and valuables from the downstairs apartment; they had not gone upstairs, and as soon as he entered the atrium Tamasin saw why. The main staircase had split and collapsed inward. Other routes existed, but if the servants did not trust the broken stairs not to crumble or the floor not to give way beneath them he could hardly blame them. Furniture lay jostled and upended everywhere. One wall showed patches of bare plaster where a fresco shook loose, leaving a thousand colored pieces littered all over the floor. Swallows, they had depicted swallows in flight over a field of lilies in the old style, and must have cost the original owner quite a bit to install. Tamasin drew a deep breath, absorbing the loss. Leaving the atrium, he wandered until he found himself in a courtyard he did not recognize. Just as he turned to leave he found Keftu standing behind him. "Supper is almost ready, 56


and the servants have prepared a special offering for the gods. They wish to placate the Bull," said the steward. His eyes took in the damage. "You should not come here alone, I think. It is not yet safe." "It may be some time before repairs can be made." "For some things we can do the work ourselves. For others," answered Keftu, "I think you are right. Artisans will be much in demand now." His gaze moved to a point beyond Tamasin's shoulder, and he motioned. "It is a shame you paid so much for it." Above the courtyard, amid the cracked turquoise and cobalt tiles trimming the upper story, Tamasin recognized the white stone latticework installed but a few weeks earlier. His Tajhaani screen with its delicate carvings had shattered in the quake. Through the gap, he spied the chair on which he had sat while watching his catamites exercising below. It lay on its side, while the table remained upright. "An expensive folly," he said softly, and wondered if it would be worth the cost to replace it. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five When the ships came they did not bother to conceal themselves under the cover of darkness or morning mist. There was no need. Sull had been so thoroughly devastated by earthquake and tidal wave that the survivors were in no position to resist. There was no hurry, save on the heights where people saw the foreign ships make landfall. A sentry posted on the terrace below the olive grove brought word to Keftu, who straightaway fetched Tamasin. "They will come here," he said. "There is nothing to stop them." Tamasin never regretted sending the stores of food, olive oil, and wine into the hills, along with most of the livestock. In the week since the quake only a handful of survivors from the town had troubled them; these were easily dispersed with a moderate show of force. Those who had lost everything were already beginning to drift inland, away from the perilous coast. Aid had not yet arrived from the capital, which had also suffered damage. Food and soldiers were not likely to come soon, perhaps not before next spring. If they come at all, Tamasin reflected grimly. Things were not as they had been in his grandfather's time. Sull and the surrounding regions were on their own. Though he took heart at the news that his family was safe, Tamasin was not about to relax his vigilance, or rely solely on prayers and offerings as the servants did. He sent word to Yansi to fortify the estate even as he posted sentries around 58


the villa and had his workers convert any available tools into weapons. Autumn seas were still navigable, the threat of a pirate raid a looming possibility that had now come to pass. He would not be going home anytime soon. "Take what you can and flee into the hills," he told Keftu. "I have already seen to it." Then the steward's face darkened. "Your bed-slaves, sir, they—" Tamasin had not thought about them in days. "I assume they have already left?" "They must have," Keftu answered glumly. "I saw only one this morning. I believe the others have run away. No one else has seen them either." Of all those who should not be left behind when the pirates finally climbed the heights and stormed the villa, the three young men were chief among them. Only one. I believe the others have run away. Tamasin wished to be sure, yet there was no time and he suspected that Keftu had already conducted his own search. Whichever ones had fled, why would they be so foolish? Even if they were not caught, even if they made it safely inland, how did they expect to survive? Only Semoy had the skills to live as anything other than a catamite, and Tamasin could not blame him for fleeing. Urrit and Elagan would be seized and sold—or worse—the moment others realized what they were. "Go ahead of me," said Tamasin. "I will join you." Keftu hesitated, then nodded. "Do not tarry, sir. There is nothing in the house worth a man's life. You will not find the slaves there. I have already looked." "No, but there are other things I need to retrieve." 59


Tamasin raced back to the villa, through the empty atrium and courtyard to the wreckage of his apartment. As his tent had not been large enough to accommodate his fine clothing or jewelry, and he had not wanted to leave those items unattended in a cave, he had the servants return them to the house. Now he thrust gold and ivory ornaments into his pockets, and rolled the tunic with the embroidered grape leaves into a cloak. His hands shook, his heart beat wildly in his chest. Not much time remained before the raiders stormed up the heights. As he turned to leave his gaze fell on a splash of red cloth. Tamasin lifted the sash, feeling the weight of its jewels before crushing the linen in his fist. His faithless lovers. He had been generous and patient with all three, giving them no reason to want to flee, yet this was now they had repaid him. Had Keftu told him they had made off with some of the valuables he would not have been surprised. Standing there, Tamasin felt his stinging anger pass into numbness, an apathy that would not let him move. Consciously he knew the danger he was in, the death that might come crashing through the house at any moment, but he could not bring himself to care. "Master," said a voice. A young man in a homespun tunic and dusty sandals stood in the doorway. Tamasin, assuming it was one of the servants, paid him no mind until he realized with a start who it truly was. "Semoy, what are you doing here?"

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Semoy came forward, sidestepping fallen furniture and broken pottery to take Tamasin's arm. "Keftu told me you'd come back here. You can't stay, sir. Raiders are coming." Tamasin laughed harshly at his concern. "Keftu just told me that you had run away." "No, sir," said Semoy. "Urrit and Elagan ran away yesterday. They were afraid the water would come again, higher, or that we would be attacked. They fled with some other refugees—to try their luck inland, they said. They wanted me to go with them, but I didn't." "They are fools." Semoy nodded cautiously. "Yes, sir, they are." "You did not flee. I snapped at you, and you stayed." In the chaos of the earthquake and its aftermath, Tamasin had all but forgotten the incident at the festival. Once the quake struck, he never questioned Semoy or discussed the matter with Keftu because there was no time among all the other myriad tasks that needed to be done. When food and shelter were at stake, a mere gold necklace was no longer important. I snapped at the others, too, and they fled. "I never gave you any reason to stay." "That is not true." Semoy pressed an object into his hand. When Tamasin opened his fingers he saw a thin length of gold. The necklace Semoy had not wanted, and had not worn to the feast. "I couldn't wear it, sir," explained Semoy. With his finger he turned over the clasp, revealing a broken link. Tamasin stared at it. Was that all it was—a broken clasp? Such a little thing? "You never told me," he said. 61


"I would have, but I didn't want to complain, sir. I told Keftu, and he said he would have it fixed, but it was too late to wear to the feast. I'm sorry, sir." Tamasin pressed the necklace back into Semoy's hand. "You could have fled. You could have sold this and gone home to your family." Semoy ducked his head, biting down on his lower lip for a long moment before replying, "I didn't want to go home." "Your family is there." The flush creeping across his face hinted at pain rather than shy embarrassment. "When the tax collector came to our house with the slave trader, I was the one my family chose to be sold," said Semoy. "Why would I want to go back to that? There's nothing there for me anymore." "You could have gone anywhere, Semoy." "No, you don't understand, sir," Semoy answered softly. "I want to stay with you. You're the only one who has ever truly wanted me, or cared about how I feel." Tamasin noticed how the blush deepened across the young man's face, and felt the heat rising in his own. So unexpected, the words shamed him. I do not deserve his trust. I have taken far more from him than I ever gave. Moments passed, and he became aware of the heavy, beaded sash hanging from his hand. "This is yours," he said. Semoy looked at it, yet unlike the necklace did not take it. "I don't want it, sir." Let me do something for you. "You deserve it, Semoy." "But I don't need it." 62


Tamasin started to insist, opened his mouth only to have Semoy swiftly close the space between them. Strong arms encircled him, holding him steady for the kiss that landed on his mouth. Their lips joined, hesitant at first, then with greater heat as Tamasin, stunned at this show of affection from one who had been so shy, returned the kiss. "I had no idea you felt this way," he said softly. "You should have told me." "I was afraid," said Semoy, "and then you were angry." "No, I am not angry anymore." Pulling the young man to him, Tamasin released the sash in the process. Where it fell he did not know, and when Semoy drew back to remind them of their danger and urge him toward the door he forgot about it. By the time he remembered the red sash, he was halfway through the vineyards heading toward the hills where Keftu awaited them. And it no longer meant as much as the young man at his side. **** Api surveyed the house, one of the few left standing intact in the ruined port. So far the villa yielded some good quality furnishings, some gold and silver trinkets the owners had not retrieved after the quake, jars of olive oil and wine, and stores of food. Naturally the residents had fled with their servants, but that did not matter. This raid had taken plenty of slaves in the waterfront below, including two fine youths. Material goods would fetch a far greater price with buyers anyway. 63


As he turned to rejoin his men his gaze fell on a splash of red on the floor. Api retrieved the length of cloth, shook off the dust, and laughed aloud when he spied the pearls and gold beads embroidered on the sash. Now here was a treasure indeed, and by right of discovery it was his. He wound it around his waist, over his sword belt, and knotted it so the fringes hung over his right thigh. A fitting ornament for a pirate captain. Grinning, and with a sudden urge to swagger, he strode from the house and went to rejoin his men. [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author L.E. Bryce was born in Los Angeles, California and has never lived anywhere else. She has a Masters in English Literature from California State University, Northridge. Her Jewish mother, dog Sarra and kitty-muse Molly help her keep her sanity. Ms. Bryce maintains a website at www.lebryce.com.

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The Red Sash

Red Sash

The Red Sash

The Satin Sash

The Satin Sash

The Satin Sash

The Red

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Red on Red

The Red Sash

Red Sash

The Red Sash

The Satin Sash

The Satin Sash

The Satin Sash

The Red

Red

Red

Red

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Red on Red

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