to himself, that he envied these Maqians their degrading pleasures.
“Shh, princess… shh… we will… we will be… I will help,” he said softly, unable to think of anything that might really reassure her. She greeted his words with renewed sobs that rent his heart and, to his satisfaction, calmed his raging cock at least a little.
“Goodman Versal,” came the voice of the emperor behind him, “you may not call her a princess anymore. Every time you do, from henceforth, she will be beaten. She is filly Edera now. Say it, please. Tell the girl who was once your princess that she is filly Edera.”
Edera gave a wrenching sob. What could Ranin do? Nothing. Nothing.
“You are filly Edera,” he said in a voice that sounded hollow to his ears. To his dismay, Edera nodded vigorously, and Ranin knew that she told him to yield. She could not know what yielding truly meant, he thought: she simply had not lived enough, or paid enough attention to her lessons, to know that for him to bow as Comnar demanded that he bow, would destroy her country forever. Surely she could not know: if she did, Ranin hoped she would rather die than tell him to submit.
But he could not disobey her. He had sworn to defend her person, and Comnar knew—if he did not perhaps know about the oath itself—that Ranin would do anything if he could prevent one stroke of the quirt from falling upon Edera’s bottom. Never mind that the sight roused his cock. Never mind that the sight of girls in harness worked strangely on his imagination. If he did not acknowledge to the emperor that Amidian honor had ceased to exist, his princess, who would always be his princess whatever the emperor forced him to call her, would receive another lash.
He stood and turned to the emperor. He knew how to do this, for he had watched the Maqians curiously and closely ten years before. One must not look at the emperor’s face. For a final instant, though, Ranin let defiance rise inside him, and he looked at Comnar for long enough that the emperor, Ranin saw, realized that the Amidian marshal meant offense. Comnar’s eyes narrowed, and Ranin knew that he had delivered the message he wanted to give, from one general to another: I will fight you while I draw breath .
Then, studiously and exactly, he bowed low, with his eyes upon the ground, until his fingertips came to the middle of his shins, covered by the red damask of the lordly robe he knew they would soon make him change for leather breeches and a homespun tunic.
“Thank you, Goodman Versal,” the emperor said. “You may rise, so that I can show you the stables, your new home.”
Chapter Seven
What had the emperor said? That Lord Ranin would live here at the stables? How could Edera bear to see him again at all, let alone every day?
And yet the news that Lord Ranin would remain with her seemed like one of the rays of light that shot into this stable and illuminated the teeming dust motes that arose from the straw with which the stone floor was covered. Had he not said he would help? Had he not knelt down beside her, and held her close for that one instant?
Edera bowed her head, there on her hands and knees on the straw. She closed her eyes so that she need not see her harness, where the stable boy Gad had laid it on the floor in front of her after he had unbuckled it and taken it off. He had not removed her bit, and she almost felt gratitude for that, because she had no ability to protest the emperor’s terrible humiliations.
Bitterly, though, she remembered that Comnar had already told Edera and her ladies that he trained his fillies to speak as good mares should, though he had not told them what that meant. That had happened when they arrived here at the palace, after two days in the wagon, wearing their tails and their belts, having to make their water there in front of one another.
They had promised to turn away from one another when the need came upon them, but Edera found that something in
“Shh, princess… shh… we will… we will be… I will help,” he said softly, unable to think of anything that might really reassure her. She greeted his words with renewed sobs that rent his heart and, to his satisfaction, calmed his raging cock at least a little.
“Goodman Versal,” came the voice of the emperor behind him, “you may not call her a princess anymore. Every time you do, from henceforth, she will be beaten. She is filly Edera now. Say it, please. Tell the girl who was once your princess that she is filly Edera.”
Edera gave a wrenching sob. What could Ranin do? Nothing. Nothing.
“You are filly Edera,” he said in a voice that sounded hollow to his ears. To his dismay, Edera nodded vigorously, and Ranin knew that she told him to yield. She could not know what yielding truly meant, he thought: she simply had not lived enough, or paid enough attention to her lessons, to know that for him to bow as Comnar demanded that he bow, would destroy her country forever. Surely she could not know: if she did, Ranin hoped she would rather die than tell him to submit.
But he could not disobey her. He had sworn to defend her person, and Comnar knew—if he did not perhaps know about the oath itself—that Ranin would do anything if he could prevent one stroke of the quirt from falling upon Edera’s bottom. Never mind that the sight roused his cock. Never mind that the sight of girls in harness worked strangely on his imagination. If he did not acknowledge to the emperor that Amidian honor had ceased to exist, his princess, who would always be his princess whatever the emperor forced him to call her, would receive another lash.
He stood and turned to the emperor. He knew how to do this, for he had watched the Maqians curiously and closely ten years before. One must not look at the emperor’s face. For a final instant, though, Ranin let defiance rise inside him, and he looked at Comnar for long enough that the emperor, Ranin saw, realized that the Amidian marshal meant offense. Comnar’s eyes narrowed, and Ranin knew that he had delivered the message he wanted to give, from one general to another: I will fight you while I draw breath .
Then, studiously and exactly, he bowed low, with his eyes upon the ground, until his fingertips came to the middle of his shins, covered by the red damask of the lordly robe he knew they would soon make him change for leather breeches and a homespun tunic.
“Thank you, Goodman Versal,” the emperor said. “You may rise, so that I can show you the stables, your new home.”
Chapter Seven
What had the emperor said? That Lord Ranin would live here at the stables? How could Edera bear to see him again at all, let alone every day?
And yet the news that Lord Ranin would remain with her seemed like one of the rays of light that shot into this stable and illuminated the teeming dust motes that arose from the straw with which the stone floor was covered. Had he not said he would help? Had he not knelt down beside her, and held her close for that one instant?
Edera bowed her head, there on her hands and knees on the straw. She closed her eyes so that she need not see her harness, where the stable boy Gad had laid it on the floor in front of her after he had unbuckled it and taken it off. He had not removed her bit, and she almost felt gratitude for that, because she had no ability to protest the emperor’s terrible humiliations.
Bitterly, though, she remembered that Comnar had already told Edera and her ladies that he trained his fillies to speak as good mares should, though he had not told them what that meant. That had happened when they arrived here at the palace, after two days in the wagon, wearing their tails and their belts, having to make their water there in front of one another.
They had promised to turn away from one another when the need came upon them, but Edera found that something in
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