The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

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Chapter 68

Lord Herucalmo comes to the morgue. Long and convoluted talking ensues. There even is an f-bomb. Oh dear.

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Chapter 68

 

As the oppressive summer of Umbar lengthened, my first year in exile drew to a close. That also meant that Lord Herucalmo's year in the colonies was coming to an end, and I tried hard not to be jealous.

In fact, I tried hard not to think about it at all, and failed. On the one hand, I had no reason to be sorry to see his back – in spite of the apology is father had made him give, he had used every chance to surreptitiously let me know how much he resented my presence in polite society in general and my involvement with the council in particular. His departure would mean one less direct connection to either Lord Atanacalmo or the King, and perhaps, some semblance of peace. I should have been relieved.

On the other hand, it would also be one less direct connection to home. For all his disdain and all his nasty remarks, Lord Herucalmo was the only person here I knew from home, and the only person who knew who and what I really was. True, he was mostly using it against me, but at least he did not have all these unrealistic expectations for me. I did not have to explain myself or hide the remainders of my past. His departure would sever that last link and send me fully adrift among strangers, and that was a thought I didn't much like.
Not that there was anything I could do about it either way, of course.

Nor could I do anything about the way he chose to handle the last weeks. He no longer singled me out for scorn when we met at the council, but showed me the cold shoulder, which was arguably better, but still frustrating. Apparently, he also hadn't wanted me invited to his parting feast. I did not particularly care to attend that feast, so I wouldn't have minded, but I did understand the insult behind it, particularly with all the rest of the community invited. Mind you, I did get an invitation eventually, but I learned from Lord Laurilyo how his cousin had raged against his father's intercession that had forced him to permit my presence. I wasn't surprised, and it didn't make me any more eager to attend the celebrations. I went out of duty to Lord Roitaheru alone, and excused myself as early as was politely possible in order to work in the library.
 

A few days later, Lord Herucalmo visited me at the morgue. He brought four bodyguards with him, so his appearance gave me quite a fright. I thought he was going to have me arrested, though I couldn't have told you what for.
As it were, he greeted me jovially enough – "Well-met, Councillor Azruhâr! Going native, I see!" - but it immediately put me in the defensive. I hadn't thought that I needed to be presentable today, so I was unshaven (and had been for a week) and wearing a simple, not-entirely-clean work tunic without breeches. It was all very improper, but he didn't seem to mind; in fact, for a moment, it was as though he had reverted into the victorious commander who had wrapped me in an embrace in full view of the army, because he said, "Well, it suits you alright, I suppose. Just as long as you don't cut off your beautiful hair."

I blinked. He was obviously making fun of me. My entirely ordinary hair was in an untidy bun at the back of my head because there was no point in having Nerad go through all the effort of working out the snags and braiding it when all I was going to do was work all day. "Very funny, my lord," I ventured. "But you need not worry; your lord father has explicitly forbidden me to do that, lest people mistake me for a man of Umbar."
By now he had apparently remembered his grudge. There was a little sneer. "They might do that. Well," he said, now business-like. "I am here to inspect your progress. Certain authorities at home expect me to make a report on it."

I didn't like the sound of that at all. Nor did I like the presence of the bodyguards. Interpreting my nervous glance correctly, Lord Herucalmo said, "Oh, they're just here for the sake of safety." He gave a smile that was more a sneer. "Mine on the road, and yours while I am here. Father wants them to remind me to be civil. You have nothing to fear – unless of course you have embezzled tax money or neglected your duties, which I am here to determine."
I wondered whether Lord Roitaheru couldn't have sent a more impartial deputy to determine all that. If he mistrusted Lord Herucalmo enough to send guards along for my safety, then he should mistrust him enough to question his judgement of my use of the money or dedication to duty. Then again, this clearly wasn't Lord Roitaheru's idea in the first place. Perhaps the authorities at home had insisted that this report was done by none other than Lord Herucalmo, since he'd be able to deliver it in person?

To be fair, he behaved more civilly towards me than he had in the past months. I suppose popriety demanded that he let my staff see that I was above them. He was very thorough in his inspection of my work, though. There was a lengthy guided tour of the catacombs, with many explanations of the measures we had taken and the experiments we still had to undertake. He was particularly interested in the embalmed soldiers, which made sense, and announced that he would take them home with him, which came as a shock. I was to prepare them for the journey on time for his departure in a week's time. That in itself would perhaps have been possible, if nothing much had to be changed, but he decided that they would have to be transported without their sarcophagi.

My stomach turned to ice. "I don't quite see how they can be safely transported without the stone boxes," I protested. "They're what protects them from outside influences."
"Well, they're too heavy for the ship," Lord Herucalmo declared. "You will have to think of an alternative."
I had to clench my eyes shut for a moment. "It would have been nice," I said, with some difficulty, "if you had given me these orders a little earlier. A week is a rather short time to think of an alternative and to implement it."
"Nine days," he corrected me.
"Well, that makes all the difference," I retorted before I could stop myself. I was frustrated. I suppose I should have foreseen that the bodies would have to be transported eventually, but I'd had more than enough to do during the past weeks. Coming up with a safe way to transport the bodies without locking them in granite could perhaps be done within a week (or nine days for that matter), but making sure that they would be well-kept by the end of the journey would have required weeks of experimentation that were now clearly impossible.

I tried to explain that. And since I had learned a few things from copying the law codes after all, I said, "As the expert, I must formally object. You will likely endanger the integrity of the bodies with any kind of transport that hasn't been sufficiently tested."
Lord Herucalmo raised an eyebrow, a little smirk on his face. "Duly noted," he said, and did indeed make a mark on his wax tablet. "And dismissed. You have always known that part of your task here was to preserve our dead so that they could be brought home. You should have prepared for that eventuality."
"Eventually," I protested. "I have not known that you intended to take them home now. And I thought they would travel one by one, so the weight of a sarcophagus wouldn't be a problem. It is news to me that they need to travel all at once, and in nine days' time. For that eventuality, I did not have sufficient warning."

I do not doubt that he would have debated it further, but one of the guards cleared his throat in a warning manner. Whether the warning was directed at him or at me, I wasn't certain, but Lord Herucalmo apparently took it: his mouth, which had already opened his mouth to reply, shut again. Unbidden, I remembered how he had mocked me for the same habit, some months ago; but before I could dwell on that unpleasant memory, he spoke after all. "We will discuss this further at a later time. I will speak with your assistants now."

He interviewed them one by one, ostensibly to determine whether I was teaching them appropriately and not dealing in forbidde business or abusing my power (such as it was). I wasn't particularly worried on that count, though you never knew, but I was worried about the matter of shipping the bodies. I would have to use wooden coffins, simply to protect them from from being crushed or deformed in the stuffed store-room of a ship, but those wouldn't be enough against rats and moisture and mould. There was not enough time to treat wood with resin or wax (not to mention that I didn't have that amount of material in store, not for this number of caskets, and wouldn't be able to buy it in such short time). For the same reason, I couldn't use lead-lined coffins – not to mention that lead might again be too heavy for the purpose. It was simply not possible.

The longer I waited for Lord Herucalmo to finish questioning my apprentices – or assistants, strictly speaking – and then, my guards and my servants, the lower my spirits sank. To make matters worse, the sun was sinking as well, and it was clear that I would have to put him up for the night. Even with his bodyguards, he would hardly wish to travel back to the city at night, and I couldn't risk him coming to harm on the road, anyway. I spoke to Zâdosh as soon as I could, to warn her that she would have to prepare dinner for an additional five people. She was even more flustered than I was. "I will do as you say, Master, but I have nothing fit to feed your noble guests," she said, wringing her hands.
"I know," I said. "We didn't know they were coming. You'll just have to use tomorrow's provisions as well, and they'll have to be satisfied with that."

They weren't, of course, not really. Our modest dinner – Lord Herucalmo had taken my invitation as a matter of course – drew criticism not just from him, but also the one or other remark from the bodyguards (men of Yôzayân, of course, not the much cheaper Umbarian men-for-hire). I barely managed to remain polite when I pointed out that we hadn't been expecting visitors.

Then there was the problem of sleeping arrangements. I had no guest room - I didn't normally have guests - which meant that the apprentices would have to share beds (which they supposedly did not mind) so my guards could sleep in the dormitory as well, while Lord Herucalmo's guards took my guards' bedroom. I for my part announced my attention to share the study with Urdad, but Lord Herucalmo forbade it at once.
"I don't intend to oust the master of the house from the master's bedroom," he said loftily. "There will be room enough for two, I trust. And that way, I can see what luxuries you have wasted my father's money on." Sidi looked down at his lap very suddenly, and Jômar, Bâgri and Talmâr exchanged alarmed glances. Urdad and Zâdosh, on the other hand, looked as though they were about to jump up and throttle him, or hit him with the heavy cast-iron stew pot. Lord Herucalmo seemed to realise that he wasn't being entirely civil, and so he laughed and tried to downplay it all as a joke.

He dismissed Nerâd for the evening on the grounds that he for his part was no training opportunity (his words) for my unlearned valet, and that I for my part would surely be able to fend for myself this one time. Of course I could wash and comb and dress myself, that wasn't the point, but I could see the hurt in Nerâd's eyes before he bowed low. I wished Lord Herucalmo had given him a chance.

"That was not very civil, my lord," I reproached him when we were safely upstairs, and the door closed behind us. It wasn't wise, perhaps, since he was still working on that report to my betters, but I couldn't hold back.
To my surprise, he looked almost sheepish at that. "No, it was not," he admitted. "But I wanted privacy."
"You could have allowed Nerâd to do his work, and you would still have had privacy once he had finished," I pointed out.
He dragged a hand down his face. "I suppose. But I did not have the patience." Letting his hand sink, he fixed me with an intense stare. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up this charade?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about, Lord."
A reproachful look. "You don't need to call me that, you know. Not in private. I'm Calmo to my friends."
"If it's all the same to you, I'll stick with Lord, Lord," I said. "That way, I won't mess up in public." That seemed politer than telling him that I could not in good conscience consider him a friend – though he should know.

He heaved a sigh, but didn't insist. Instead, he said, "It's not all the same, obviously. But I suppose it serves me right." Then he looked around and changed the topic. "You know, I didn't expect you to have indulged in many luxuries, but this is even more frugal than I would've thought."

I followed his gaze around the room. It didn't feel frugal to me. I had a dressing table, which was entirely unnecessary, and a chest of drawers rather than just a chest because Lord Laurilyo had insisted that it was more practical. I had some rather nice carpets on the floor, and bedding that was both soft and pretty. I even hard curtains on the bed as well as the window (another thing that Lord Laurilyo had insisted was practical) and a bureau, as if I couldn't simply have used the dressing table for writing letters. Just in case, I had a low small table next to my bed. I had two chairs in spite of being only one person, and there was upholstery on both of them. I had blankets and pillows to spare, too, which was a good thing now, considering Lord Herucalmo's restless sleeping habits.
"I'm perfectly comfortable, my lord," I said with a frown.

"You live like someone's steward!" he exclaimed, as if that were any problem of his.
"Well above my station, I know," I said. "But I have been told that things are different in Umbar, and I hope this doesn't count as a waste of your father's money."
He stared at me as if I'd grown a second head. "I rather meant that it was below your station," he said slowly. "As master craftsman."
"Which I am not."
With a flick of his hand, he retorted, "Which you more or less are. At any rate, you don't have to live like the better sort of servant."

I did not point out that the better sort of servant had once been a position beyond my wildest dreams. He seemed to have forgotten about that, like all those other people who told me to remember my place and then turned around and expected me to play chess and understand politics.
"Well," I said instead, forcing myself to give a docile smile, "at least you can write in your report that I'm not spending too much on luxuries."
Again, he gave me a nonplussed stare. I stared back, uncertain what was confusing him.
"Oh, that!" he eventually said, with a shaky laugh. "You don't need to worry about that." He laid the tablets aside. With them, "To be honest, the report is mostly a pretext so I could come out here again without rousing suspicion. I wanted to see you in private one last time. And it worked, didnt it?" There was an almost pleading smile on his lips now.
"Apparently," I said, unbalanced yet again. I didn't like that he had come here under a pretext. I didn't like that he'd wasted my afternoon and scared my apprentices (and me, too) under a pretext. Above all, I was worried about what he was planning on next, now that it had worked. "What for?" I asked, hoping that forewarned was forearmed.

The look he was giving me now was thoroughly puzzled, or possibly reproachful. "So I can say goodbye properly, of course," he said. "I wanted to speak freely with you, at least this one last time, without having to put on a mask."
"Huh," I said, very eloquently.
"You do not believe me?" There was a definite note of hurt in his voice.
I wondered how to word this diplomatically. "I have seen you in so many masks," I tried, "that it's hard to know which is your real face."

He sat down heavily in the chair at my dressing table. "The one that loves you," he said, sounding almost lost. "I thought I had made that clear."
"Oh," I said. "I thought that was over after that one council session, when I called your deeds evil and you called me an enemy-lover."
He frowned at me as thoug he had forgotten about that, then shook his head. "But I warned you that I would be unkind to you in public so only the right sort of rumour would reach the King! I never meant any of it!"
I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. "You certainly made it feel real."
"It was meant to look real," Lord Herucalmo said, "but I told you – I explained – you knew how I was feeling, didn't you?"
He seemed in genuine distress, and part of me felt guilty for it.
"I thought your feelings had changed," I mumbled.

He threw up his hands in exasperation, and I took a step back in alarm. At once, the pleading look was back in his eyes. "Of course not! I love you – that doesn't just change over some petty disagreement!" Again he shook his head in disbelief. "You don't think that your wife no longer loves you just because you fall out occasionally, do you?"
I mumbled, "That's different." As a matter of fact, I was afraid that Amraphel might leave me every time we argued (though we didn't argue often), but that wasn't something I needed to discuss with Lord Herucalmo of all people.

He'd jumped up again and crossed the short distance between us. Suddenly, he was kneeling at my feet and holding both my hands, looking up at me urgently. "Azruhâr, dearest heart, I am so sorry. I thought you knew I was only play-acting. You should never have taken these ugly things to heart. I never believed them – I thought you knew that."
This was almost more distressing than the memory of the insults. "You've said ugly things to me before, and meant them," I said weakly.
"I wish I could unsay those, too." He rested his face against my hands, the very image of contrition. "I did not mean them, either."

Despite my discomfort, there was a certain pleasure in his admission of wrong-doing, late though it came and little though it changed. At the same time, it was all a bit much. "You do not have to change the past, my lord. None of us can, and it won't make anything better to pretend. Come, stand up. There's no need for this show; there is no audience now. But it may come as a solace to you that you are a very good actor. Even now I don't know if you are speaking in earnest or if this is another scene in your play. You and your future wife will be wonderfully matched, and I wish you all the best."

You could have thought that I kicked him, from the misery in his face. "I am entirely in earnest, believe me." Now he began to kiss my hands, in the most devote manner, knuckle after knuckle.
I was weak; after a year of loneliness my body no longer cared for the difference between lover and uneasy ally (if that), or between my wife's attentions and Lord Herucalmo's. With surprising difficulty, I managed to withdraw my hands from his grasp and kisses, and I sat down heavily on the carpet before Lord Herucalmo could notice the bulge under my tunic.
"It is hard to believe," I said, my voice shaking audibly. "People like you do not love people like me. Either you have a little fondness for me, if I am lucky. Or you simply want to fuck me. That has nothing to do with love." My face was burning, but it was what it was.

Now that I was sitting, Lord Herucalmo had abandoned his uncomfortable kneeling position and sat beside me, his hands in his lap. (There was a bulge there also, but that was no surprise.) He had flinched at my words. "But that's not how it is," he protested urgently. "I mean, of course I am fond of you. And yes, I do desire you physically, so much that it hurts, and if you were willing, I would bed you this very instant and do my utmost to give you pleasure, in whichever way you desire." (How poetic.) "But it's so much more than that. I know it. I do not speak of love lightly."
"So you would say," I pointed out, "if you were hoping to bed me, and," my face grew hotter yet, "give me pleasure. Or receive pleasure yourself. I'm not good at romance, but I understand how it is done, in theory."

Once again he touched me, tenderly, this time on one of my knees. (I had pulled up my knees to hide the fact that I wasn't as unaffected as I would have liked to be.) "I suppose I cannot blame you," he said, still in that urgent tone. "But will you at least listen to me?"
In spite of everything, I forced myself to smile. I actually would have liked to cry, but I was trying to hold myself together, and so I tried to trick my eyes and my brain into believing that I had reason to smile. "You are my lord. You can command me to listen."
He flinched as if I (I of all people!) had struck him. "By that logic, I could command you to do a whole lot of things," he said, frowning, "but that's not the point. That's not what I want."
I continued to smile, but I could nonetheless feel my eyes well up. Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded, wrapping my arms more firmly around my knees.

He was worrying his lips as if uncertain what to say. "At the beginning," he eventually said, "it was as you said; a certain fondness, maybe, and above all the desire to, as you put it, fuck you. It wouldn't have been feasible at the time, so I compromised, as one does, by finding sweet bedfellows of your stature and with similar features..."
As one does. I couldn't look at him anymore. If this was meant to convince me of his love, I thought, he still had a lot of explaining to do.
He went on, "None of them were what I wanted. And don't get me wrong, they were lovely and gentle and exactly what I should have wanted, and none of this is their fault. They just weren't you. By and by, I had to acknowledge that my feelings for you were more than simple lust."
No longer able to maintain the artificial smile, I pointed out, "That still doesn't mean it's love."

I expected him to reprimand me that I hadn't let him finish, but he simply sighed, and then went on, "It's complicated. I realised at the time that it was about who you were, not about what you looked like, or what you might give to me between the sheets. It wasn't about my pleasure; I wanted to win your heart. I wanted - needed - you to return my feelings. And truth be told, I was apalled. As you say, it isn't considered appropriate for someone like me to love someone like you. Arrangements can be made, certainly, and they may even be friendly, but they fit our needs and our feelings. Yours are not normally taken into consideration." He sighed. "And then there was the matter of who you, particularly, were. Back then, I still very much believed the slander that was going around. Grandfather seemed to think – even then – that you had some greater value, but I did not see it at the time. Not rationally. There was no reason to want your love. And yet…"

One of his hands rose to my cheek ever so gently.
"And yet I had feelings for you that went beyond a desire for your sweet mouth or your slender buttocks or -" a glance down towards my tucked-up knees "- for whatever you are hiding so chastely down there. I realised that I was worried for you when grandfather had you in his office, and yet my heart sang when I knew you were in the same house as I was. I started to feel hurt and angry for your sake when Alcarmaitë abused you. I was convinced that these feelings were entirely misplaced, but I could not control them."

I had tensed up entirely. I didn't even know whether to feel insulted or ashamed or childishly gratified by his attention, and so I felt a potent combination of all three, mixed with a thorough sense of loneliness. Above all, I felt lonely. I wanted so badly to be loved – though not so much by him. Not that I believed his assurances that it was love, and not lust, or perhaps an absurd obsession. And yet, if he was the only one offering --- there was a certain temptation in it, even by him, even if it was only lust.

"I tried to talk myself out of these feelings, of course," Lord Herucalmo continued his tale, saving me from having to respond. "Punished myself for them, even. But they were persistent, as you are persistent, and instead of being suppressed they grew stronger the more I fought them. Grandfather noticed that something was up, though I denied it when he asked me. But of course he saw through me, as he sees through everything. He gave me a stern talking-to, reminded me of our goals. I assured him that I hadn't lost sight of them and wasn't going to, and that I wouldn't let you get in the way of them. He threatened to get you out of the way, and I told him that I did not care. Part of me thought that it would solve the problem. I hated my feelings for you - and I hated myself for betraying you. Fortunately, he did not follow up on it, but ah, he tested my resolve." He sighed heavily, giving me another of his intense, keen-eyed stares. Cupping my face in the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing my cheek, very nearly, but not quite, my lips. And I longed so badly to be held and carressed and kissed and loved, I barely managed to pull back.

"For how long," I managed to get out, "has this been going on? How long have you had these feelings?" Until that awkward day in the baths, nothing had suggested that he felt anything other than annoyance for me. Unless the equally awkward night at the mine, when he had embraced me in his sleep, counted. (Had he been asleep?) But judging by the way he was talking, it sounded as though I had grown on him for rather longer than that.

He looked pensive, which made his eyes and jaw soften and let some of the Elven beauty of the noble houses shine through. After a moment's thought, he said, "I expect it was growing for a while before I was even aware of it. But if I had to pinpoint the exact day... there was a time when grandfather let you join us for dinner. You seemed more at ease than usual. You even smiled a few times. It was then that it hit me how lovely you were – though I didn't understand that I loved you at the time." This time, his thumb touched my lips for good, tracing their curve lightly. I managed to keep them locked firmly. Just barely. I had to draw my head back before I could speak. "Was it that dinner after the funeral?" I couldn't remember having smiled then, but I couldn't rule it out.
"Goodness, no. Well before that. When you started all that business with the day-talers."
"So long ago!" I couldn't help exclaming. In truth, it was only a few years, but it felt like a lifetime ago. It was strange to think that Lord Herucalmo had lusted for me all that time, and I'd never had the slightest idea. "But you despised me! You resented it when his lordship made me work with you! You insulted me, which is within your rights, of course, but ---"

He stretched his lips thin in a pained grimace. "I behaved like an idiot. I won't deny it. At the time, I was trying to protect myself from these feelings that I thought were misplaced, and in the process I hurt you. It was not within my rights. I should have found a different way to go about it. As I told you, strong feelings are more easily disguised as other strong feelings, but – I should have managed to be decent about it." He shook his head ruefully. "I failed Grandfather's test. Just not in the way that I thought. I hated myself even then, you know, though I thought it was because of my feelings. And then you went and proved everyone wrong and showed that you were worthy of every single one of them, and more."
Tensing, I said, "Your Lord Grandfather thinks otherwise."
It took him a while to answer. "Grandfather is – well, he keeps his own counsel. But it wasn't one of his plans. I think he was distraught, at least. He never wanted that to happen."
"How touching," I said dully. The good thing about all this talk about Lord Atanacalmo was that every lustful feeling had fled.

Lord Herucalmo knelt up suddenly, pressing his hands to his chest. "I know it's very little consolation," he said. "But for what it's worth, we had a terrible row when I heard what was going on. Grandfather nearly disowned me. In the end he convinced me that there was no way but to let things run their course, however much we hated it, but I fantasized all night about rushing into the citadel to rescue you. Or about committing the highest of treasons. It was the worst day of my life."
"It was the worst of mine, also," I said. The mere memory made me feel sick to my stomach, and I had to lock my arms more firmly around my knees to keep from trembling. "You know. I would have appreciated rescuing. If you had burst onto the scene to break me out… I probably would have believed what you say about your feelings." There was a laugh building up at the back of my throat, quite irrationally. "Though you probably would've forgotten all about them if you'd actually seen me in that state."

He actually clenched his eyes shut. "I saw you the next day, didn't I? It didn't change my feelings at all. On the contrary. It made it all the more difficult to contain them. I truly wish I could have been open and honest, not just towards you, but to all the world. I wish I could have sung out how brave you were, and how faithful, and how precious."
I was barely listening. Had he seen me the next day? I suppose he must have been at the trial as well, since he had testified at some point, but I couldn't remember seeing him. Of course, I had been rather distracted and preoccupied and not, on the whole, at my most perceptive. I didn't reply.
"And for what it's worth," he said again, "Grandfather reported that he thought you were… 'surprisingly dignified, under the circumstances.'"

Now there was no possible way of holding back the mad laughter. At the same time, I felt my eyes well over. "How flattering," I half laughed, half sobbed. "Surprisingly dignified. Under the circumstances. Very reassuring." I remembered the 'circumstances' keenly – all too keenly – and I did not recall anything that could have been considered dignified, even by the most generous interpretation of the term. The torturers had done their utmost to remove every last shred of dignity, not that I'd ever had a lot of that to begin with. "He lied, of course. A kind lie, though. It would have been nice if he'd said something like that to me. But to me, he just said it was a pointless display of childish loyalty. I'm not worth pretty lies, I guess." The laughter dried up, leaving only the tears. "Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters." I wished Lord Herucalmo would go away so I could lie down and curl up small. Instead, I had to struggle to regain some sort of control over myself, for appearances' sake.

Lord Herucalmo, perhaps less concerned about appearances, had shuffled back to my side and wrapped me in his arms. I didn't have the strength to resist. Most of me didn't want to resist. As I have said before, I wanted to be held. I needed to be cradled and allowed to be weak instead of pretending to be a strong and lordly and self-sufficient Man Of The Yôzayân, all things I was not. I wanted a shoulder to cry on. So I let him hold me and press his face against the top of my head and my face against his shoulder while I was overcome by misery. It could have been nice, that. If he had been Lord Eärendur, or better yet, Amraphel, it would have been a relief.

"I shouldn't have brought that up," he said after a while, sounding distressed (though he kept himself under control better than I could). "It matters, it matters so much, but I shouldn't have made you think of it all again. I didn't come here to make you unhappy."
Once again, I had to laugh against my tears. It was the bitter kind of laugh. "And you thought it would make me happy to revisit past terrors? Or to have an impossible task added to my work, for that matter? I can't possibly make those bodies ready for transport in such a short time, Lord, and I have no doubt that you knew that. And you knew I wouldn't be ready. And you didn't dream of giving me proper warning, and you didn't give a damn how inconvenient or, for that matter, impossible it is for me."

Remembering the afternoon's humiliations made me angry enough to pull myself together and back from his embrace. Unable to sit still for longer and no longer concerned that he'd see anything untoward – I was now the very opposite of aroused – I stood up, trying to find relief in pacing. "You thought nothing of making these demands, and of embarassing me in front of my household and eroding what little authority I have. All for the sake of speaking freely and saying goodbye properly. And then you expect me to believe what you say about love. If that's love, it's a very selfish kind of love."

Lord Herucalmo had also risen, more slowly. Now he was watching me walk to and fro like a caged beast, very earnestly.
"You are right," he said in a tired voice. "I am selfish. But I do care about you, very deeply. More deeply than I care about my desire. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy, but it appears I'm very bad at that." He paused as if inviting me to contradict him, but I was more inclined to agree with his assessment. If he wanted to make me happy, he had failed spectacularly.
Since I didn't respond, he went on, "You don't have to prepare all those bodies at once. Just give me two or three to take along, so we have something to show for ourselves." (There was that ominous we again.) "I thought that was obvious."

"Well, it wasn't. I'm used to impossible demands, and punishment when I can't meet them. How am I supposed to know when they aren't actually meant that way?" I stopped in my useless pacing and looked at him squarely. "With all those inconvenient feelings, maybe you have forgotten that I am a very simple man. Not the brightest, as your Lord Grandfather would say."
His fists clenched immediately. "Don't talk about yourself like that!"
"Why not, Lord? There's no point in deluding myself. Others talk like that all the time."
"That's bad enough. You don't need to add to it."
"Well, in that case, neither do you."

He drew a sharp breath, preparing to make another angry reply, but then he caught himself, and instead of snapping back, passed a weary hand over his eyes. "You are right." He heaved a massive sigh. "You are right. Though I don't think you need to worry about your household. I mean, obviously these people here don't feel as deeply as we do, but I had the impression that at least half of them worship the ground you walk on. There's nothing I could say or do to erode that. I saw the looks some of them gave me. Your so-called valet, for once, and the young girlish one – what's his name? Yômar?"
"Jômar," I said, latching onto the first thing that made sense.
"That's the one. I think those two were close to considering treason. And your book-keep was this close to forgetting himself and giving me an earful, no matter the cost." He was pinching his thumb and forefinger together.

"The way you're talking about my people is very telling, my lord. That's how you used to think of me, I'm sure, and how you'll think of me once your feelings have cooled. As they will." Once more, I was straining to smile. "I don't think there's any way of salvaging this. It will be better for us to retire. I hope you will not find my bed too uncomfortable. I shall go down and share the study with my book-keep, as you so kindly called him, and as I originally intended. A good night to you, Lord."

"Wait!" He had started forward, ostensibly to catch my arm and stop me from leaving, and I drew away. He stopped in mid-motion, giving me an imporing stare. "Wait," he said, more gently now. "Please, don't let us part in this way. You're right, this conversation has gone completely wrong. I was more convincing when I was planning this in my head." He gave a rueful, placating sort of half-smile, but I wasn't certain I wanted to be placated. I was already regretting the weakness I had shown earlier. I wrapped my hands around my chest to signal that I wasn't going to walk down the stairs just yet, but that I certainly wasn't mollified.

He did his best, though. Once more, he went down on both knees, saying, "I've made a terrible mess of this meeting. Of our whole relationship, whatever that is. I came out here to make sure that you'd be doing well when I can't watch over you anymore. Now I'm realising you'll probably be doing better when I'm gone."
Something about his dejected tone touched my heart. I tried to shrug it off. "You never needed to watch over me, Lord."
He looked up at me with a weary half-smile. "Azruhâr, just a year ago you were trying to get yourself killed." My face flushed at the reminder. "You know," he went on, "I understand that you do not share my feelings. I can live with that. What I couldn't live with is if you let yourself come to harm, or worse. I have got the impression that you do not value yourself enough. So – forgive me for being concerned."

"It isn't your concern that I've taken offense to," I said. "I can live with that. I'm grateful for it, even. It's the secrecy, the deception, the way you've tried to pass it off as hatred all this time. Maybe you didn't mean it, maybe you think I've had sufficient warning, that I should have known otherwise. But believe me, the hatred was far more believable than any profession of love. I'm weak. I hurt easily. And in my experience, most people are perfectly fine with that. Hard to tell when someone actually isn't, especially if he pretends that he is."

He bowed his head. "I understand. And believe me, I wish things had been otherwise. I wish I could make it all up to you. I will try, if you let me."
"So you have said before. But you cannot change the past. Now, for my part, I'm going to sleep. You can keep up your vigil over there, or go to sleep as well."
Lord Herucalmo managed to look very meek. "I think I'll go to bed, if I may. My knees are already hurting, I don't know how commoners do this. I guess you've got to be born to it."
I said, "Everybody's knees hurt. Nobody is born to it." He didn't reply.
"Right," I said. "You can have the bed. I'll take the floor."

"Oh, no, that won't do!" He had begun to rise, his face contorting at the realisation that his legs and feet had fallen asleep, and now appeared to have frozen in mid-movement. "As I told you below, I wouldn't oust you from your bedroom. Or your bed either. I can sleep on the floor."
"That's hardly appropriate."
He gave the faintest of smiles. "I think propriety is our least concern at this point." An awkward pause, then, "We can share the bed, of course. I will behave, I promise. It wasn't so bad at the mine, was it?"
"You took the blanket all to yourself, and kept me awake tossing and turning most of the night," I said, and saw his eyes close in dismay. Poor fellow, he really had messed this up, hadn't he. "And then – you held me close in your sleep. Not that you did anything worse than that. But – it was rather disconcerting, particularly since I didn't know you had any kind feelings towards me at the time, and thought you'd wake up and blame me somehow."
He sighed. "So I did in my dreams what I could not allow my waking self to do. And now you expect that I will do it again. I will not. But if you do not trust me, I still won't take your bed and banish you to the floor."
"And I cannot in good conscience lie in bed when you lie on the floor. I don't need as much comfort as you do, my lord. I've grown up in poverty."
"And you should not have to re-live it," he said.
In the end, we both slept on the floor, stubborn fools that we were.
 

The next morning, I acted as his valet, which in reality wasn't too bad; like Nêrad, I had not been trained for the job, but the work as such wasn't unpleasant. I did my best, although Lord Herucalmo was probably used to more thorough (and possibly more gentle) care, and more skilled fingers. But he didn't complain. Afterwards, he insisted on doing my valet's work, since it was his fault that Nêrad wasn't there to assist me. I pointed out that, as he had correctly observed yesterday, I could fend for myself.
"But it will go at least some little way to assuage my guilt, to know that I have done you a service this one time," Lord Herucalmo insisted.
I sighed. "If what you say is true, you've been doing me some sort of service all the while, even though it has felt rather like a disservice. And if what you say isn't true, then I have no reason to assuage your guilt and should let you suffer from it."

Somehow that made him laugh, in a gentle manner. "You would make a great and wise lord," he said, sobering. "Alas." After a moment's thought, he added, "Then accept it as a gift from me, at least, before I go."
I had no answer to that. It was graceless to refuse a gift, after all. So I let him do my morning ablutions, which he did with a great deal of care more than I would have afforded myself, and also using a great deal more of the scented soap and oil. I actually spoke out then, "Have a care with that, it's expensive," but he only gave a little laugh and assured me that he'd pay for the difference.

He also took a lot longer to comb my hair, well after every possible knot had been unsnagged. He took so long that I was beginning to get uncomfortable, and thinking that perhaps he was trying to get it sleek and silky like his own – which would be a hopeless endeavour – I said, "I don't think it's going to get any better than this, my lord. My hair is as coarse and common as the rest of me."
His hands stopped for a moment, then stroked my hair. "Your hair is beautiful and I love to touch it. Azruhâr, there is nothing about you that's coarse or common," he said, sounding affronted. "You've got to stop thinking like that."

Again, I made no reply. It would make absolutely no difference whether I thought like that or no, but he evidently had stopped thinking like that and didn't appreciate the reminder. There was no use in discussing the matter. Nor was there any use in pointing out that the elaborate braids he was now putting in my hair were a waste of effort (not to mention that it would make Nêrad feel inadequate, but of course that was none of Lord Herucalmo's concern). It looked very nice, certainly, but it was ridiculous on an ordinary work day to dress my hair as if I were heading to some great festival. I sat still, and smiled with some effort when at last he declared his work finished.
"Thank you, Lord," I said. "I think we'd better go downstairs now." I rose.

"Wait," he said, in that soft and gentle voice that still sounded out of place on him. "Let us say goodbye properly." He laid his hands on my shoulders, giving me an earnest and infinitely tender look. "I wish I didn't have to leave you here. Words cannot express how much I will miss you."
"I wish I didn't have to stay here," I said, but that thought was making the dark tide at the back of my mind rise up again. I tried to contain it by brushing off his words. "But you'll forget me soon enough. There are more important matters, after all. You'll be busy with your courtship and your inheritance."
"I will be, but that doesn't mean I'll forget you," he insisted. "No matter what else I do, even if I were to become King of Númenórë, I would still miss you."
If you were to become King of Númenórë, you could lift my exile and recall me home, I thought to myself, but out loud, all I said was, "That sounds like treason. But I shall pretend that I didn't hear it, this once."

His lips twitched into a fleeting smile. "You know how I meant it." I wasn't sure that I did, but it was easier to force my lips into a smile as well.
He sobered. "I will miss you, but I know that it's for the best. You are safe here, at least from outside harm. Please promise me that you will stay safe." There was a strange urgency in his voice now, and the grip on my shoulders had grown much firmer – not painfully so, but it was evident that this actually mattered to him.
"I will do my best to stay safe," I said obediently, and then amended, "though harm has a way of finding me, I'm afraid. But I will not seek it, if that's what you are concerned about. At least not unless I have good reason to."
"No, that will not do. You must stay away from harm even if you think you have reason to seek it."
"Says the man who went into battle, and wanted to take me along," I couldn't help pointing out.

With a sigh, Lord Herucalmo said, "Look, I never said that I was always wise – least of all when it comes to matters of the heart. But I mean it. Keep yourself safe, whatever befalls. I will miss you, but I will be able to console myself as long as I know that you will be safe here. Happy, even. Father supports you, and you have made good friends. Let them cheer you. And don't deny yourself the comfort and pleasure of love, if you find it. I understand that I am not the right person, but there must be someone else. Do not forever deny yourself. You are far from home. That is bad enough. You deserve to be happy."
I wasn't going to discuss that with him. "Then I have to ask a promise of you, too," I said to distract him.
"Anything that's in my power, Azruhâr, I swear it."

I bit my lips, wondering if this was a good idea, but then I decided that if this was a trap, if he had led me on all along, then nobody would be safe anyway. And if he was indeed earnest, then a promise – a sworn promise, even – from Lord Atanacalmo's grandson, and perhaps the future Prince Consort, would perhaps make a difference. "Protect my people, Lord."
Frowning, he tilted his head. "Your people?"
"My family," I said, feeling my eyes well up, "and my friends, all of them, and the paupers and day-talers, and the newly-made farmers along the road – make sure that they're safe, that they do not suffer for association with me, or because someone thinks they can punish me by harming them. Protect them with all the might you have. If no harm comes to them, then I will make sure that no harm comes to myself, with all the might I have." Which wasn't much, but it would have been unwise to call attention to that. "I'll even try to be happy, since it matters to you."

Lord Herucalmo's hands had slid down my arms as he had gone down on both knees again, clasping my hands while still meeting my eyes firmly. "I swear it."
I wasn't certain whether I could trust his oath – since I was a councillor now, an oath to me was, in theory at least, legally binding, but I wasn't sure if that still counted when I was so desperately outranked – but it was as good as I could hope for.
"I hear you. So be it," I said, and he kissed my hands and pressed them to his forehead as if he really had sworn a solemn oath.

"I will miss you too, you know," I said after he had risen and embraced me; it seemed wise to keep him in a good mood, and besides, I had come to realise that it was true. "You're the only person who knows what I am. What I was. I don't have to worry about making a stupid mistake and betraying myself, because you already know everything. When you'll be gone, I'll have to hide my true self all the time." I realised that I had begun to cling to his shoulders while speaking, which would give him all the wrong ideas, so I losened my grip.
He kissed my brow, and then the tip of my nose, and then my lips. When we pulled apart, his eyes were shining. "That was – that was good to hear," he said. "Although it rather sounds like you'll be better off once I'm gone. Free."
"It doesn't feel like it," I mumbled, and he kissed me again.
"Now I have the strength to face other people," he said. "And to leave, since I must."

By the time we were downstairs, he was once more the aloof lord on a mildly annoying errant who had arrived here the previous day. He spoke little during breakfast, claiming that he hadn't slept well in my humble bed, which had the guards (his guards, not mine) chortling.
"It's more comfortable than the floor," I said, frowning, since he hadn't even slept in the bed, at which they nearly choked on their laughter. (From Lord Laurilyo, who always kept on top of the gossip, I later learned that they had taken our exchange to mean that Lord Herucalmo had made advances on me, which wasn't untrue, and that I had rebuffed them, which also wasn't untrue, and that I'd had to sleep on the floor as a result, which wasn't exactly true; however, it gave me the reputation of a man who'd rather suffer discomfort than let himself be used (their words, according to Lord Laurilyo), which was an improvement on the things they'd said about me earlier, so I tried not to care about it. I didn't much like that there was gossip about me at all, though, or about Lord Herucalmo for that matter. I wondered what he or his father thought about it, if either of them knew. But I did not ask.)
Lord Herucalmo scowled, and they got themselves back under control. I was glad for it; poor Urdad was shaking with what might be fear but might just as well be suppressed anger, and I was once more touched by his loyalty.

Lord Herucalmo did find reconciliatory words at the end, when we had lined up outside to see him off. Not for me, mind you. Towards me, the mask of barely contained displeasure was perfectly back in place (in retrospect, I assume this is what contributed to the rumour that I had rebuffed him) and all he said by way of parting words was "Well, keep busy. I'll send a cart to fetch the bodies. Not all of them, but as many as you can manage."
I bowed low.

"As for you – " he had marched on, past my kneeling apprentices – "work faithfully and diligently. You are lucky to have such a master." Perhaps he had remembered my concerns about what his visit had done to my authority despite dismissing them earlier.
"We know," the men chorused dutifully, and Lord Herucalmo gave me an almost triumphant glance, as if they could have said anything else under the circumstances, and as if it meant anything about their true feelings. I managed to keep my face even and impassive. After a moment, he nodded, turned away, and mounted his horse.

And then he was off. I watched him, flanked by the bodyguards, ride down the road until they had disappeared in the distance.