The Michael Arram stories are now beginning to appear together at: http://www.iomfats.org/storyshelf/hosted/arram
So we reach the end of Henry's second adventure. A big thank you to the people who wrote to express their enjoyment and offer suggestions. It meant and means ever so much, as any Nifty author can tell you. There will be a third and final Henry adventure - a mystical thriller this time (with anagrams, no less). It should be ready to post in a few weeks or so.
I really think I shall give the disclaimer a rest this time ... you should have got the message about what sort of stories I write by now. So instead, a huge thank you to Nifty for hosting this and my other stories ... give generously if you can.
XIX
`Pass me that Fodors, Ed.' Henry and he were relaxing in their hotel room. Items of evening dress were scattered around, and Henry was in his boxer briefs, with his bare feet up on the room's desk. Ed had just come out of the shower and was towelling his hair. He was naked, dishevelled and gorgeous. Henry's briefs were tented out accordingly. Part of his anatomy was expecting an imminent treat.
Ed came up behind Henry, knelt next to his chair and began lightly kissing his shoulders. His fingers strayed inside Henry's briefs which he began slowly pushing down over his thighs. Henry wiggled his bum to assist the removal. Ed's warm fingers closed round his erection and began skilfully stroking and stimulating him. Regardless of the potent distraction, Henry scanned the index for `Glottenberh'.
As Ed's mouth closed over his glans, and his tongue began teasing his slit, Henry began reading. `Glottenberh (Ger. Glottenburg). Former semi-independent duchy within the kingdom of Ruritania, annexed 1788. Capital: Radelngrad (Ger. Ranstadt) pop. 90,600. The cathedral of St Boniface fdd 1004. The Benedictine abbey of St Vitalis (Vitalenkloster) features the national shrine of the Black Virgin (q.v.) ...' That was as far as Henry could go, he groaned and threw the book aside, burying his fingers in the thick blond hair of the head between his legs, pumping up and down on his penis.
`Can I make love to you, Ed?' Henry gasped. The grinning face between his legs lifted off him and nodded. They stood. Henry put Ed over the edge of his bed and prepared his hole patiently. Although he normally topped, Ed by no means disliked being taken by Henry. Henry took him high, holding Ed round the ribs, his belly against his lower back, pushing down into Ed's hole the way he knew he liked it, his penis running over and exciting his prostate. Ed was biting and gripping the coverlet by the time Henry spurted inside him. They moved up on the bed, kissing and hugging, and Henry brought Ed off with his busy hand.
Finally, Ed got round to asking, `Why does Rudi want just you to go to Glottenberh with him?'
`He seems to think that religion is my thing, because my dad is a vicar, and none of his other friends are that way inclined, I guess. Also I speak Rothenian, which an equerry has to do.'
`What's so special about January 3rd?'
`It's the feast of St Vitalis, the patron saint of Rothenia, the German monk who converted the pagan Rothenians in the eighth century. There's a national pilgrimage, and for the first time since 1860 a king of Rothenia will lead it. The Thuringians were stubborn Lutherans and never converted, which was another reason why they were not popular. This is a very Catholic nation, Ed, and their faith means a lot to them. The king is the advocate of the shrine of the Black Virgin, and that means that the image will be carried in procession through the streets of the city, since he is present.'
`Black Virgin? I take it that it's nothing to do with Africa?'
Henry smiled, `It's an ancient Byzantine icon, presented to Duke Tassilo by Emperor Otto the Great. It apparently cures infertility. It's OK, I won't say a prayer for you. I don't want you getting pregnant on me, now we're going our separate ways.'
Ed gave a tight sort of smile, `You're on about that a lot, Henry.'
`It's on my mind a lot, Ed. Especially after sex like that. Ed, I ... oh, never mind.'
`Never mind what ...?'
`Now's not the time and place.'
Ed looked troubled, but he hugged Henry into him and enclosed his smaller body protectively. Henry sighed and snuggled. This he liked as much as sex, the way Ed could just surround him with warmth and make him feel loved and safe. Who else would ever do this for him? And how could he survive without it?
Oskar picked up Henry on the Tuesday morning, coming up to their room so he could kiss and embrace him. Oskar was very fond of Henry. He said that there was something of the young Will about him, and he still loved Will in his way, so much was obvious. Henry loved being hugged by Oskar too. The man had an amazing fragrance and Henry could still smell it on himself hours later. It must be fantastic to share the man's bed, and what a man too -- gorgeous and beautifully proportioned. Letting his mind run down those channels simply added to Henry's unease, of course. His mind was always running down them, and it just seemed to be getting worse. He was adrift emotionally, and he knew it.
Oskar was in a dark suit, and Henry had dressed the same way. Oskar's car ran under the palace arch and joined a motorcade already waiting for the king. Six police cycle outriders were at the arch and three vans full of security men. The royal BMW with the Elphberg flag on the bonnet was running its engine. The king emerged, and a palace footman in white tie called Henry out of Oskar's car to join him.
`Morning, Your Majesty.'
`Hi, Henry. Do you ever do the rosary, you Anglicans?'
`Er no ... well, not my sort of Anglican anyway. I hadn't noticed you do it much at Medwardine either, Rudi.'
`It's a devotion my mother's fond of. I'll give it a go later. You OK, Henry?'
`Sure, sure.'
`You look abstracted.'
`Just like you to start getting sensitive at the oddest of times, Rudi.'
`You're not bothered about a day of Catholic devotion, are you?'
`Heavens no. It's ... well, it's personal, and thanks and all, but I want to keep it personal.'
`OK. No probs.'
They chatted about the day ahead of them, current Rothenian politics and the unexpected side of kingship, and were still talking when the motorcade pulled off the autoroute and into the outskirts of Radelngrad. Henry was astonished when he looked out the car window to see crowds lining the road even at the edge of the city, though it was cold and heavy grey clouds were lowering over the roofs. Red lion flags were everywhere. Rudi laughed as he got Henry waving out the window in that odd way that royals do.
When the convoy pulled up outside the basilica of the Vitalenkloster, built on the lines of the imperial church at Speyer, the bells began ringing and the concussions of the guns of the royal salute banged back at them from the west front. Rudi, with Henry a pace behind him, stood hands on heart as the band of the re-formed Royal Foot Guards played the national anthem. Henry was chilly in the cold air without a coat. The bishop, in rochet, purple mozetta and cassock, came up to shake hands and ushered the king into the huge spaces of the great church. The abbot and community were within the west door, the abbot wearing a gold pectoral cross and purple skull cap as a sign of the full privileges of his ancient house. Rudi caused a stir by going on one knee to kiss the abbot's ring of office, an act of royal humility followed by subdued applause. The abbot and monks, behind a cross and acolytes, led the way down the packed church beautifully chanting the Te Deum in Latin as they went.
Rudi was placed on a great chair at the head of the nave and Henry -- as equerry for the day -- had a seat behind him. It was cold in the church, and his breath was steaming. But being at the focus of a great religious festival forced Henry to ignore it. He looked at Rudi, motionless in front of him and also coatless, and he marvelled at the self control that kingship demanded. The boy was superhuman.
The monks brought down the icon from above the high altar and there was a period of devotion and readings as it was censed and venerated. It was finally brought to the king to kiss ... the only person allowed this devotion; it was technically his own property as the direct descendant of Duke Tassilo. The icon was then placed by the king himself on a flower-filled litter carried on the shoulders of ten members of the fraternity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, in tail coats and breeches, with papal medals round their necks.
The procession passed down through the church, headed by the bishop, abbot and monks, with a multitude of boys in albs, with censers and candles in little lamps. Henry was a little awed as well as astonished to see that the boys were all barefoot, despite the winter cold. Rudi came after the icon with the provincial governor, the chief of police and the general commanding the army district. Henry came after them with Oskar. The procession wound through the streets, accompanied by applause in the continental way. Rothenian hymns were sung at every station. And as they came into the packed market place it was an awesome sight as thousands of people, young and old, went to their knees to welcome the icon. As they did the first flecks of snow began to drift down from the heavy brownish clouds. It was almost scary in its timing: `celestial ticker tape,' Oskar whispered with a little smile.
The procession wound on and up into the cathedral, where the icon was placed on the altar for public veneration before mass was celebrated. Henry was rather glad to see that the boys had reassumed their shoes and socks. He had been a little worried about them.
He went up to the altar with Rudi to receive a blessing from the bishop, but did not take communion. He reflected that in the circumstances it might have caused a diplomatic incident in a small way: Anglican equerry to the king of Rothenia elbows his way to the altar to take the sacrament at a Catholic state ceremony. He thought back to what the Head had said to him about a career in the Foreign Office. Maybe it was an idea after all.
There was a late lunch and reception at the former ducal palace, which was now the University of Radelngrad-Glottenberh. Henry circulated with the king for a while, but got into a conversation with a party of Glottenberh students who had been invited along to represent the student body. They were pleasant Rothenian kids, a little older than him of course, but they didn't make him feel patronised. They were disappointed at his determination to speak Rothenian, as they wanted to try out their English on him. They were very intrigued about their king, the girls especially. Henry was hard put to it to be discrete without being evasive, but he thought he managed it.
The king left the room for a series of meetings with local officials, which Henry was not required to attend. One of the female students volunteered to take him to see the old palace chapel, since he said he was interested in churches. Her name was Lise, and she was clearly very interested in Henry. This was a first for him, but there seemed little doubt in the way that she smiled and hung about him that he was indeed the object of her sexual interest. Wow,' he thought, this is what life might have been like, if I had been different from what I am.' He was very friendly back, which was as far as he could go. But the novel idea that he might be attractive to women further confused his already confused mind.
Lise took him up to the organ gallery which overlooked the chapel. The place was a mass of baroque sculpture, and the reredos climbed all the way to the roof in an involved confection of cherubs, saints and patriarchs. It was that school of church decoration that seemed to owe more to the stage than to scripture. But down in the nave was a series of ducal tombs that Henry had to see more of. They descended a twisting spiral staircase and Henry examined each tomb in turn. Lise's interest in Henry was not so great that she could counterfeit enthusiasm for the architecture of death, so she said she'd be back to pick him up in half an hour.
Henry began with the medieval tombs, an unusual line in front of the high altar at the east end, obviously moved from somewhere else. Four crowned effigies lay flat, their feet to the east, ducal swords unsheathed and resting on their shoulders. The execution was very fine, and although Henry was no expert, he guessed that they had been made elsewhere than Rothenia, Flanders maybe.
Down the centre of the nave lay the early modern dukes of Glottenberh, in the armour and ruffs of the age of Gustavus Adolphus, and the wigs and lace of the age of Louis XIV. He finished with a very intriguing monument, the last duke, who died aged eighteen in 1788. It was composed in a Classical style, the boy -- a very handsome boy apparently -- depicted lying rather erotically in just a few convenient drapes. It was deliberately sensuous, and Henry remembered reading somewhere how the erotic was a part of the art of death: smooth flesh and swelling muscle used to counterpoint the ephemeral beauty and tragedy of human extinction.
The boy's mouth was slightly parted and his eyes open, as though he was still drinking in light and breath. Henry could not resist running his hands down his torso and long limbs, and marvelled at the delicacy of the art of the sculptor: the faint lines of veins and the play of muscle under the skin made beautifully real in stone.
As Henry reflected on the shortness of the life of this boy, and all the disappointed hopes that had lain on him, his own situation came home to him in greater force than ever before. In two weeks he too would be eighteen. He could see his way forward in life and his path did not lead him in the same direction as Edward's. They would separate, and life would take them apart. There was no future for them as a couple, and although what they had was so very fulfilling, it was not sustainable. Bitter though it was, there was only one conclusion, and as Henry looked at the last duke of Glottenberh, he knew that at least in his case there would be other opportunities. Maybe he would never recapture the poignant and delicate first love of his life, but it was only that, the first love of his life. There would one day be another, or so he could hope. Henry shook off his confusion. He had made his mind up.
Ed was smiling as Henry came through the door of their hotel room. The bags were already packed and waiting on the bed for the taxi to the airport. He hugged Henry and kissed him and stared at the tears standing in his lover's eyes.
`Henry, what's up?' he said, nervously.
Ed,' Henry replied slowly, but firmly, I have a thing to say.'
THE END