Geoffrey was neither a gentle nor a considerate lover. I had had no previous experience in the submissive role, but I quickly learned not to resist him. In the confusion of waking the next evening, I stretched gingerly, not knowing quite where I was, nor why I felt so battered and tired. I turned to find Geoffrey was awake and watching me. I reached for him, both desiring and fearing him, but he batted my hand away. “We should dress now, and go downstairs, or poor Nicolas will think he has been abandoned. Jehan has arranged a bath for you in your chamber,” he said sharply. I felt dismissed, and left to clean up and dress.
I joined Geoffrey on the stairs about a half-hour later and did not meet his eyes. I well understood the object lesson in last night’s act: Geoffrey was master, and had exerted his dominion, bending his own nature to secure my absolute submission to his authority in the most basic way conceivable, a way to which my sodomite temperament must perforce respond. I was ashamed, as I had never been before, but grateful too, that he had not felt his authority needs must be enforced by feeding from me.
Chapter 5
Anneke was in the study when we got there, and Geoffrey asked after Nicolas. “A messenger has come,” she answered in her low and oddly accented voice. “He will soon return.” She leaned back in her chair, appearing even more in my two-dimensional sight as a Flemish painting in the firelight. I sat over by one of the windows, feeling dejected and confused. I looked out at the night, which was moonless but lit with a glittering profusion of stars. Lost in thought, I was unaware of Nicolas’ return until a hand was lightly laid on my shoulder. “You have a letter, Kit, from Rózsa,” he said in a preoccupied way, handing the paper to me and returning to the fire to speak quietly to Geoffrey. I contemplated the missive for a moment before opening it, and when I did, I stared at it for few seconds in perplexity. There was nothing but meaningless marks on the paper. I stood, shaking, and took a book from a nearby shelf, then another, and another. As I dropped the third, as indecipherable as the first, a cry of torment escaped me, and I glanced around wildly, bringing Nicolas and Geoffrey to my side in an instant. “I forgot,” Nicolas said in great distress.
“I cannot read,” I spat. “I cannot read!” Something Nicolas had said struck me and I stared at him. “You forgot,” I whispered. “So, you knew and you did not tell me, you just left me to find out—”
“We were not sure, but if it were so, we hoped that you need never know, Christopher,” Geoffrey said sternly. “It is the result of the injury to your brain, and you will heal, I promise, but it will take time, mayhap quite a long time. We knew not if you would be able to recall your identity, or even if you would be able to speak or understand speech. You are much, much better off than we had dared to hope, given the nature of your wounds, but you must not press it, and you must let yourself heal. Christopher, you are not alone, you are with your family, protected, here with us,” Geoffrey urged, his voice low, but still firm.
“Kit, my dear friend, I am sorry that my carelessness has caused you such pain. What can I do to make it up to you . . .anything . . . anything. . . .” Nicolas’ voice was hoarse with regret. I clamped down on my emotions, and thrust the letter at him.
“Read it to me,” I said shortly.
Nicolas read:
My dearest Kit,
I hope you can forgive me for not consulting you before making the exchange with you, but that you are alive and reading this is a proof of a sort of consent on your part, after all. Mayhap I have much to answer for, which I will do my best to requite when I see you again, a fortnight or so after the arrival of this letter. Until Twelfth Night then, my love and my thoughts be with you.
Rózsa
He passed the letter back to me and I folded it and tucked it into my doublet without a word, then stood up and left the room. I heard Nicolas calling after me,