Bound & Bound – the Curse and the Captives – - 28. Chapter 28: The Love Word

Chapter 28: The Love Word

ONE CORNER OF THE CASTLE COURTYARD was in dusty disarray. Romanian masons had set up shop there to convert large chunks of limestone into uniform blocks slightly larger than two bricks stacked together.

Ahmed passed by that area and scoffed quietly to himself.

The stonecutters had retired for the evening, leaving behind their chamois coated in rock dust, and their chisels and wooden mallets stacked neatly.

The slaves had slipped on their tunics, in case the light breeze of evening sent the chill of a cooling sweat from the surface of their skin deep into the interior of their bones as a rheumatic ache. And each man walked next to his companion with three stones loading down his hands.

After a long day of wielding pick and shovel, Ahmed felt angry that he and Junayd had been set to work out the twilight. That they had been ordered to be nothing but dumb brutes. 'And yet,' he thought. 'This is our fate. Just to be the pack animals who transport rocks from one pile to another, and all for a pack of Christian dogs.'

Despite his sour sentiments, the professional soldier could not stay irritable for long when he was by Junayd's side. As he glanced over to him, the man he loved could not have appeared more beautiful or placid in Ahmed's eyes. The younger man was coated in a light powder of white, and resembled a mischievous child who had sneaked into the back of a bakery to pilfer a sweet, but instead got coated in flour. The soldier licked his lips in the sweet anticipation of wetting a sponge later and cleaning his belovèd off from head to toe.

While they tottered towards the well, the soldier's eyes drifted up the scaling heights of a ladder left standing in the court. It was leaning against the wall of the chapel, and other workmen had left it there; their job was to caulk the panes of the church windows against the coming onset of winter. The walls framing the tall openings were all of cut and polished stone, and their highly honed and sharp corners contrasted markedly next to the fieldstone construction of most of the rest of the castle.

The two men arrived at the staging place near the excavation for the well. They stacked the stones neatly and turned back for another load.

Trudging back, Ahmed's eyes kept vying for the younger man's attention, but Junayd seemed content to gaze up to the sky over their heads. Ahmed looked at it too: the air was slowly turning orange and red, and the sky was streaked with pencil-point clouds of grey.

Finally, much to the soldier's relief, Junayd glanced his way and offered him a warm smile.

"This is good news. Isn't it, dervish?"

"Good news?"

"We are deep in the well shaft, we might hit water any day now, so they've cut these stones so that we may be ready to line the pit from the bottom up."

"Yes, it's true."

Ahmed playfully stepped in front of Junayd. He walked backwards with arms akimbo and a radiant grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "Aman Allahim! But it is good news; we strike water, line the well, and then we are released! Act a little happy, monk."

Ahmed had to witness the unaccountable effects of his words on his companion's visage. Junayd's youthful features lost their glow, the moisture gathered like luscious dew on his upper lip and moustache seemed to parch.

"What..?" Ahmed was reduced to a soft stammer.

"Nothing, Kapikulu." A sham display of comfort parted his lips, and Junayd repeated, "Nothing."

Ahmed stopped walking. The younger man nearly ran into him, but diverted his purposeful momentum into a good-natured shove on the older man's chest.

The two men continued on their way, striding side by side.

At the pile of cut stones, Ahmed stacked two blocks onto Junayd's outstretched grasp. He then positioned one to be a top piece and ride the crack of the two underneath. He reached down and scooped up three blocks for himself.

Walking back again, Junayd spoke first. "You stink. I'm glad that in a few days it will be bath night again."

"I stink..?" Ahmed questioned with mirthful ire. "That didn't stop you last night from taking me."

"Don’t joke; you know I cannot resist your pleadings for lovemaking, soldier."

"Nor I yours, dervish." Ahmed laughed. "Since our first bath night, every night with you has been a tussle and negotiation – I on you, you on me – God, I am blessed to love you, Junayd."

The younger of the two merely simpered as Ahmed watched him. "Only a love of equals equals that of God's love for us."

The professional soldier decided to continue in a lighter vein. "Do you remember our first time in the bath, six months ago?"

"Of course I remember." Junayd licked a line of stone dust off of his lips. "I remember how strong and smooth your skin felt as I bathed you after our initial encounter, and how your dick grew strong again at my touch, and I remember how we then soaked in the pool, locked in each other's arms, kissing and chatting."

"It was my first time you know, dervish. First time with a full grown man, and first time giving myself to another – that you remember too..?"

"Kapikulu, you ask that as if I could ever forget how precious your love is to me, and how exciting it was to feel you giving your virginity to my cock."

Ahmed suddenly grew hard. He delighted in just how pleased the little smile his companion turned on him was at the precise moment. It spoke volumes. "You know the feeling, so I do not need to tell you how wonderful my entire body felt afterwards. From head to toe, it was like every part of me was awake and celebrating my connection with you and with your body. Who knew, dervish, that I would discover you really know how to fuck."

"Ha! I also remember that same night, later in bed, I could not wait to feel how well you could reciprocate. You too, Kapikulu, sure know how to fuck!"

"Yes, it's hard to believe," Ahmed mused. "That we've already had six bath nights since then, and that was also the same day Vlad the Traitor was thrown into Master's dungeon! I hope he rots."

They set their stones on the growing pile by the wellhead.

Junayd straightened up with a warning for Ahmed. "Take heed, soldier. The man you are talking about is strong in his mind. Do not talk of him; do not think of him at all."

"What are you babbling about?" Ahmed scoffed.

Junayd draped his arm around the soldier's strong torso. His tone became low and insistent. "I mean, by thinking about him, you are creating a bridge he could use to cross and then manipulate you."

Ahmed felt the younger man's weight lift off of his body; he watched Junayd begin to walk back towards the stonemasons' corner of the courtyard. He called after him in disbelief: "From his cell?!"

Junayd spun on his heels and walked backwards. "From anywhere!" Ahmed jogged up to him, and the younger man continued in a warmer tone. "Let's not think dark thoughts, habibi."[1]

A pang of solitude washed through Ahmed all of a sudden. His eyes regarded Junayd's beautiful face, darted over his form, and quietly savoured the feeling of melancholy mated to the elation he felt. He was in love and it was a love as pure as that which he felt for his own heartbeat. Trying not to sound emotional, he told his companion, "Sing us a song, dervish."

"Which one?"

"Do the willow song."

"Will you join in?"

"Yes, my love. I will sing with you."

The men had arrived back at the supply pile of stones. Junayd loaded up Ahmed's hands, and then grappled with and lifted his own three blocks.

As the men hovered a moment to link up their step, their gazes met, and their respective right foot lifted up in unison. The beat of their march was carried by the melody as Junayd began. He sang:

"My love is like the willows

which bend and moan within the breeze,

and like the leaves that try to seize,

I reach for that which billows."

Ahmed added his rich bass line to Junayd's treble, as both sang the chorus with refreshing vigor:

"So sing I my song for all to hear,

the reeds, the rushes, the water pure,

for my love is holding me yet dear,

and delight is all that I can endure."

The men stacked their stones as Junayd continued:

"My love is like the maples,

which bleed tears of sacred amber,

and like bread for which men clamber,

feeds me all of my staples."

Ahmed and Junayd interlocked arms and strode across the yard in married harmony:

"So sing I my song for all to hear,

the reeds, the rushes, the water pure,

for my love is holding me yet dear,

and delight is all that I can endure."

Junayd extended his hands to have Ahmed pile him up with stones. Ahmed paused, searching his belovèd's face. Into the openness he saw there he laid down his heavy burden. "You have yet to say you love me, dervish. I know you do, and yet, you will not say it."

He set the first block into Junayd's grasp. Ahmed twisted his upper torso to pick up a second stone. He half expected his companion would say something, but was not surprised by the other man's silence.

The professional soldier transferred the weight of the second stone to his mate. His sad look inspected Junayd's features for a sign of thawing. "Are you sceptical..?" He again tried not to sound desperate, but heard some deep feelings creep into his tone. "Do you doubt that my love for you is true, just because you are the first I have ever felt it for?"

There was no answer, only the younger man holding his gaze on the heavy stones in hands.

"Do you doubt me, Junayd, that my love is permanent? It will be not replaced once we are out of here; it will not change just because we grow older or get separated; it will not die just because one of us might…Junayd, please, look at me."

Tears were in the eyes Junayd's lifted to him; the younger man intoned softly, "It's not about scepticism – "

Ahmed cut him off with an impassioned plea, "No, it's about proof, isn't it! And, it's because of how I can prove it to you right now."

The professional soldier unloaded the stones from Junayd's grasp, wiped his own brow in determination and grabbed a chisel and mallet.

"Ahmed, what are you doing?" The older man could tell by the slight strobing sound of his beloved's voice that the other man was looking around nervously.

Ahmed paused in his tracks. He strode towards Junayd with his stone-cutting tools and stopped within kissing distance of the young man's face. "What am I doing..? I am proving it, right now."

He turned and made a beeline straight for the chapel walls.

Junayd trailed with stumbling steps. He projected a hoarse whisper forward to his crazy companion, "Kapikulu, be careful!"

When he got to the ladder, Ahmed pivoted and glared at the dervish with a commanding scowl. "Move that thing for me, and then hold it."

"What?"

The soldier gestured with his head. "There, take it and move it over to the corner. Do you see?"

Junayd strained to spy which area Ahmed was talking about.

"Ahmed, you do not have to do anything rash to make me believe – "

"Please, Junayd. Please…move the ladder."

The younger of the two men drew in a loud inverted sigh. He gripped the lags of the portable steps and moved it along the wall. He muttered in a way he was sure the other man could hear: "Crazy Kapikulu; impetuous; hot-head; you will get in leg irons – "

Ahmed cut him off, chuckling, "I'll be quick, my Efendi."[2]

"Here?" Junayd asked, suppressing his smile at being called that, and halting the progress of the rungs.

Ahmed stepped back and peered upwards. "Yes. That's perfect!"

Junayd set the top of the ladder securely against the smooth stone next to a chapel window. He brought his feet forward and tested if it was wobbly.

Ahmed brushed aside him to leap up the first two rungs. "Hold on."

Junayd did and peered over his shoulder anxiously as Ahmed ascended.

The dervish growled in a gruff undertone, "What exactly are you doing, Efendi?"

Ahmed got about the height of two grown men off the ground and stopped. With an open palm he dusted off the flat vertical surface of an ashlar stone. He then brought up his chisel, and starting from the right, lightly struck it with the mallet.

He tapped away – not too forcefully, not too timidly either – and the Turkish language in beautiful and flowing Arabic script began to form letters, words, and sentences. Ahmed incised the stone watching the lines he were making become an indelible part of this horrible place of their captivity, and felt the tears rise to partially obscure the work from his sight.

"I'm proving that I love you, Junayd. Even though you may doubt me, maybe others won't in the future; I demand that there be no gossip, no questions, and no mistaking."

The professional soldier took a moment to wipe his eyes with his forearm. He glanced down to Junayd's upturned face, and felt refreshed. Refreshed, for the look he saw there was one of manic but hopeless adoration. Ahmed inhaled with new determination. He continued onto the next word of his inscription; while part of his mind focused on the manual task of his hands, his voice continued to inform the man he loved of his words' intent.

"Written in our language, brother, none of them can read it and spoil it with censorship or condemnation. It's like you and me: when they look at us from the outside, none of them can tell we are married in heart, soul and body. None of them can see us just by looking, but it does not matter if they do not see our love, for it is written within us for all times."

The older man lowered his tools, blew dust out of the channels Ahmed had just carved and read the whole work. Satisfied, he began to descend the rungs.

Junayd stood back as the big man plopped on his feet from the second lowest step and pressed his masonry tools into the younger man's chest. "Put them back, and I'll reposition the ladder."

The dervish ran across the courtyard and dusted off the chisel with the hem of his tunic. He carefully laid the tools down and checked to make sure nothing seemed amiss.

Ahmed watched as the dervish stood erect and turned back to the yard. The young man suddenly looked to the sky above them. The soldier cast his eyes upwards and noticed that a leaden darkness had now fallen. Some yellow glistenings of light burned from behind a few of the castle windows.

Junayd started to walk towards him, and Ahmed turned around. He propped his hands on his waist and looked up to admire his handiwork. From this vantage point, the lines of his carving were deep enough to be seen, but not bold enough to stand out and be noticed; you had to be looking for it to find the inscription.

He felt Junayd jog up behind him, and then slow down until the younger man was by his side.

"You didn't tell me what you wrote."

Ahmed blinked towards his mate. "I thought it would be obvious."

"Well, I…can't read your devilish mind, if that's what you mean. And as for the words up there, they are too far – "

"Aman Allahim, Efendi, I wrote: 'Junayd is the true belovèd and partner of Ahmed, now and forever."

Junayd's lower lip began to quiver. Ahmed had to watch as the dervish's eyes filled with silent tears.

The soldier draped his arm across the top of Junayd's back, and drew him into a hug. "I love you, and see how it is doubly written now – once in our hearts, and once on the prison walls of our servitude. But both are inscribed there as if by the hand of God, and he never lies, does he?"

Junayd slowly shook his head. How could a holy man ever dispute such a basic fact? He could not, and he would never deny that Ahmed's love was real.

˚˚˚˚˚

Louis' chance was slipping away. His master was by his side, and the young man's glance-casting was failing to pull in Lord Laszlo's attention. Heat was coming off of the man as an almost visible wave of impassioned furor as they stalked down an interior corridor of the castle.

A few minutes ago, they were dismounting in the stables after a long day of riding, when they were interrupted by an urgent messenger with a letter.

Laszlo read it in stunned silence, crumpled it with a deeply furrowed frown, and began striding out of the stables.

Louis had followed and now they were close to gaining the entrance to the state apartments. Once they reached the threshold, the lord's favourite gained enough courage to reveal what was on his mind.

"My Lord, I may speak out of turn, but I wish Your Grace to know that I can be relied upon to do your bidding in delicate matters as well. I can function in a similar capacity to you as Razvan does to her ladyship."

Louis saw the monolith sternness of his master's expression falter a moment; Lazlo's step slowed and he glanced to the teen boy's face.

"We'll see, Louis. You wish to take on more responsibility?"

"Yes, My Lord. I desire to be the one your lordship thinks of first when he is most in need of counsel, or when he needs a man for a secret mission."

Lord Laszlo stopped, grabbed Louis by the back of the head in a jocular way. "You delight me, lad. My heart is troubled, but knowing I have a young man who proffers his faith in me with a strong signal of his love gives me comfort. Soon, Louis. Soon, your chance may be coming, but be warned – things are growing dangerous. Dangerous elements are drawing closer to me. Are you up to the task of being my full confidant?"

"Yes, My Lord. Test me, and I will prove it to you."

"I will keep it in mind, have no fear of that. But I want you safe as well."

His master continued walking, and Louis – still stunned in the glowing warmth of his master's kind words – held back to watch his lord take a pair of strides away from him. Louis hurried to catch up, and tried to suppress both his smile and his suddenly growing bulge.

They again walked side by side through the state apartments, and now the occasional glance rewarded the young man for his boldness. He wanted to help this man whom he admired and loved in every way he could. To think that Laszlo might look upon the teenager as a confidant, and more than just a cosset, made his heart leap for joy.

At the end of the series of open doorways stood the closed oaken portal to Lady Gretza's chambers. A few paces before they got there, this door opened, and Lady Maria slipped out. Louis smiled to himself to see how pretty she looked in her pale yellow silk gown; cradled in her arm was a dark red dress that clearly matched the taste of the castle's resident mistress. Perhaps the girl had been tasked with mending it.

The girl closed the door before seeing the pair of men striding towards her. When she did notice them, she bowed her head and curtsied to Lord Laszlo.

The master asked her, "Is her ladyship within?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Louis watched this seemingly simple exchange, and picked up on a current of tension from his lord. Louis could see the face of the man he knew so intimately was just that very moment lost in a passing sexual thought: an interest towards Maria, or maybe more precisely it was an interest in thinking about how the boy and girl had secret intercourse.

Lord Laszlo placed a hand on Louis' shoulder. "You wish to serve me better, well, here is your first mission. I want you to stand guard while I discuss an important matter with my wife. Let no one disturb us, especially not her ladyship's minion, Razvan. All right, lad?"

"It will be my honor, My Lord." The boy did not want to take on colour and glance at the floor, but he was suddenly overwhelmed.

The lad felt his master's index finger stroking a lingering touch on his cheek. Louis nearly closed his eyes in pleasure, then gently lifted the finger with his own hand – boldly holding his master's gaze – and moved it to Maria's face. Laszlo appeared puzzled at first, but then, as Louis continued to watch and give encouragement with a grin, the boy used it to stroke the girl's face. The man and young woman gazed at one another, and Louis glanced down to see his lordship getting stiff.

In another moment, their master withdrew his hand as said, "Wait here, boy."

He roughly pushed at the door without knocking and went in.

After the door closed, Maria made to leave, but Louis grabbed her arm. He asked her softly, "May I visit you later this evening?"

Maria acted shy and nervous. "This evening, yes. For tomorrow evening my chamber is required by another."

"Her ladyship..?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

Maria swallowed down a lump. Louis knew she was not one to withhold information from the young man she loved, not unless she had been threatened. He suddenly grew hot to protect his love from the evil Lady Gretza at all costs.

"Tonight, my dear," she said, coming in close to his ear. "I will reveal to you what she has been doing behind her husband's back."

Still feeling hot, but now for another reason, Louis watched her slip away down the corridor as quietly as a whisper.