The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (18 page)

it down. See? It takes some getting used to, but it is nearly invisible

and you can still speak normally. In fact, take care that you don’t

forget it’s there. You can even eat with it in place, though I wouldn’t

recommend it. Although, even if you were to swallow it whole it

would pass through you intact. The danger lies in inadvertently

biting on it. The gold is just thin enough for you to bite on the capsule

and cause it to leak. The poison is strong enough… for your purpose.”

Anaxantis removed the capsule from his mouth, wiped it carefully

on his sleeve, and put it back in the box.

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“There are three capsules there,” the doctor said. “For complete

peace of mind, you might want to try one out yourself. Not on

yourself, of course.”

“Thank you,” Anaxantis said. “I owe you.”

“No, not at all, dear boy. It was my pleasure. I like solving little

conundrums, and I believe firmly that we should be able to end our

life when… when it becomes unbearable. I can honestly say I saved a

few hundred lives, maybe even more than a thousand. You are aiming

to save more than ten thousand lives. You could very well die trying.

I think I owe you a favor or two. You’re a bright lad. Just be very, very

cautious with those things.”

“I will,” Anaxantis said, almost inaudibly. “And thank you. For

these and for believing in me.”

“Let’s hope you will never have occasion to bite on one of them.”

After the doctor had left, Anaxantis wrapped the capsules in the

piece of cloth from the little wooden box and put them in his pouch.

He felt at peace. The doctor’s capsules removed one of his worst

nightmares: being captured alive by the Mukthars. He didn’t fear

dying. Well, in fact he did, and one of his greatest worries was that

death would not be immediate, but a long and painful process. But

he was even more terrorized by the idea of falling in the hands of his

enemies, not dead but alive. There was no telling what they would do

to him. There was so little known of their customs and traditions. It

could very well be that they would treat him with respect and merely

hold him for ransom. But what if that wasn’t the case?

He could see before his eyes how they would overpower him, strip

him, and subject him to all kinds of indignities for the amusement of

their hordes. He had no illusions at all. Instantly the warlord would

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be transformed into a frightened, humiliated boy. He knew a thing

or two about changes in fortune and their effect. The worst was that

he would be powerless to do anything about it. That he would have

to suffer whatever they chose to do to him. Again. Just like when he

had forced himself upon him. And had beaten him. And had pissed

upon him. And had kept him chained like a dog for months. And had

laughed at his misery. And at his pleadings and tears.

This time it would be worse. It would be public.

He shuddered and his face contorted painfully as images of what

had happened that night, nine months and twenty-seven days ago,

and what could very well happen again, only much, much worse,

danced before his mind’s eyes. As if floating near the ceiling he could

look down upon himself lying on the table, weak, while strong arms

held him down, and again he felt the shock and the pain of the brutal

penetration. The images dissolved, only to be replaced by even more

gruesome pictures of himself being restrained by several laughing,

leering barbarians, while they tore the clothes from his body under

the gloating eyes of their companions and took turns…

“I will never, ever let anyone degrade me like that again. Before, I

couldn’t have stopped them if they tried to rape me. It would be even

more vile than… There would be several of them, no doubt. They would

make a public spectacle out of it. Hundreds of them watching me being

defiled. Helpless again. Unable to stop them. Unable even to hide my

shame, my pain. Would I cry out and beg them to stop, just like I did

then? Would they laugh, like he did? Laugh and carry on? Like he did?”

He shivered, rested his elbows on the table, and buried his head

in his hands, as tears rolled down his cheeks, hot tears for a helpless,

violated boy.

For several minutes he was overwhelmed by his hellish visions.

“But it will never happen. They can catch me. They can tie me up

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all they like. They can surprise me. Yet I will escape them. They won’t

be able to keep me. It will never happen again.”

The good doctor had given him a foolproof way out. Even bound

or chained he could move the capsule with his tongue between his

teeth and bite it. In seconds he wouldn’t be there anymore, and he

would effectively have escaped his enemies forever. What they would

do to his dead body? No matter. He wouldn’t be there to witness it.

He wouldn’t know.

“It will never, never happen again.”

The same thought kept turning around in his head like a mantra.

Finally he was able to convince himself and escape out of his

nightmare.

He picked up a flask of undiluted wine and it almost slipped out

of his clammy hands. He filled his cup to the brim and drained it in

one go. He shook his head, straightened his back and took a deep

breath.

The warlord was back.

He decided that what he needed was a ride in the countryside.

Hemarchidas and Myrmos. Between the two of them they would

manage to dispel the last vestiges of his nightmares.

“Radyamirodyahendo,” he called out from the hallway. “I am

calling it a day, so you might as well.”

Rahendo looked up from his writing and saw the prince, standing

behind him, looking over his shoulder. He tried to cover what he had

written with both his hands.

“Hey,” Anaxantis said, smiling, “those are not notes. You are

writing a poem of some sorts.”

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137

“A song actually,” Rahendo said, as if his darkest secret had been

discovered and his life would never be the same again.

“Really? A song? I used to write songs when I was younger. I was

quite good at it, if I do say so myself. Can I take a look?”

“Better not, my lord.” Rahendo looked around him as if he needed

a fast escape. “It’s bad. It’s very bad. It’s worse than bad. It’s the

worst. In fact, it stinks.”

“It can’t be as bad as all that.” Anaxantis smiled. “Let me take a

look. I might be able to give you some pointers.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Don’t need pointers. Don’t want pointers. No

pointers. It’s not mine anyway. It’s something the pages are singing. I

just want to write it down before I forget, so I can put it in the letter

to my sisters.”

“So, they are singing together. Good. It shows some esprit de corps

is growing and that’s good for morale. I’m all for stimulating that.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rahendo said doubtfully.

Anaxantis pointed to the main entrance, and when Rahendo

looked in that direction, he grabbed the piece of parchment with a

devious grin.

“That’s not nice. Please, my lord, it isn’t finished. I think I have

some of the words wrong.”

“Never mind. Just let me take a look.”

He mouthed the words while he read them and frowned.

“Well, you’re right about one thing. It isn’t finished. The rhyme

scheme is all right, I guess, but the meter is atrocious. You’ll barely

be able to sing it.”

“Please, my lord, give it back. I have to go to the facilities. Urgently.”

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He pressed his legs together.

“Some parts don’t make sense. For example:

’It was mighty narrow

but I was straight as an arrow’

What does that even mean? And

’I’d readily give my body and soul,

for another night in the X X’

What do the Xs stand for?”

“I told you, my lord, that it wasn’t finished. I really, really must go

now. Nature’s calling. Very loudly.”

“Nature can bloody well wait,” Anaxantis said, becoming irritated.

“At least until I know what the Xs stand for.”

“If you must know, they stand for ‘captain’s barrack’.”

“Ah, I see.”

He went over the song again.

’I totally lost my self control

So inviting was the captain’s barrack.’

Ah, yes. It’s about a captain who organizes parties in his barrack.

’It was mighty tight

but I kept pushing all night

You can understand that

Never before such fun I had

I’d gladly give my body and soul

For another night in the captain’s barrack.’

Yes. There are a lot of people there, so you would have to push to

get in, I suppose. Hey, those last verses don’t rhyme. And neither did

the first, now that I come to think of it.”

“Can I go now, my lord?”

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139

“No, you can’t. You can piss in your pants as far as I am concerned,

but you are not leaving before you explain to me why it doesn’t even

rhyme.”

“It will be worse than just pissing, I’m afraid,” Rahendo said,

deeply unhappy.

“I don’t care. Why doesn’t this thing rhyme?”

“Because I lied a little bit.”

“You lied.”

“A little bit.”

“Aha. No captain’s barrack?”

“No captain’s barrack.”

“So, what do the Xs stand for?”

“You will remember that it isn’t mine, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And that I had nothing, nothing at all to do with it?”

“OK.”

“And that you forced me to tell you?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Tell me already.”

“You remember how you gave us that barrack to use as a meeting

place?”

“Yes.”

“And how the pages decided to call it The Prince’s Waterhole?”

“Yes, that was quite endearing, actually.”

“And how they shortened that to The Hole?”

“Yes, more’s the pity.”

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Rahendo took a few steps backwards and looked at the main

entrance.

“Well,” he said, speaking as fast as he could, “for ‘barrack’ read

‘hole’ and for ‘captain’ read ‘prince’. Must go now. Bye.”

He ran away as if chased by a hundred Mukthars.

“Weird kid,” Anaxantis mumbled while he looked at the parchment

and mentally filled in the words Rahendo had given him. As he read

on and on he became first white, then fiery red, and lastly the same

shade of blue Obyann had so often sported these last weeks.

The complete, now perfectly rhyming song read:

’I totally lost my self-control

So inviting was the Prince’s Hole

My friends, I swear, I swear it’s true

Some day you must try it too

I’d readily give my body and soul

For another night in the Prince’s Hole

It was mighty narrow

but I was straight as an arrow

I took my aim

And to my everlasting fame

I was larger than a fishing pole

When I burst into the Prince’s Hole

It was mighty tight

but I kept pushing all night

You can understand that

Never before such fun I had

I’d gladly give my body and soul

For another night in the Prince’s Hole.’

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141

“Radyamirodyahendo, come back,” Anaxantis roared as he ran to

the entrance, where he bumped into Bortram.

“Has everybody gone mad?” Bortram protested. “First that weird

kid runs me over and now you.”

“Where did he go?” Anaxantis shouted.

Bortram shrugged.

“I’ve got no idea, but wherever it was, he needed to be there like

yesterday. Why?”

“Never you mind,” Anaxantis retorted. “Let me through. I’m going

to ride Hemarchidas in the country with my horse.”

He stormed away.

“He’s going to ride Hemarchidas? With his horse? That can’t be

what he meant to say. Can it?”

Anaxantis stopped in his tracks, turned around and shouted at

him.

“And another thing. If you happen to run into that little pervert

again, you can tell him, with my compliments, that no fun at all, no

fun whatsoever was ever had in… in… in the captain’s barrack. And

certainly not by no stinking page. You got that?”

“Yeah, sure. Captain. Barrack. No fun. By nobody. Got it,” Bortram

shouted back. “Though I wish I knew what you are talking about,” he

added to himself, shaking his head. “I swear, the weirdness of that

kid is contagious.”