Chapter 7:

Emrys hired Gruffydd, a former instructor of his, to train his army.  Old, the man had retired, but he was still the best instructor Emrys'd ever had. 

Emrys swore him to secrecy, telling him only that he wanted the boys trained as warriors.  It wasn't much of an army, but it was all he had. 

If he recruited other nobly born boys for his army, it might appear he was attempting to overthrow his father.  No one would take an army of market boys seriously, even if they learned of it.

Gruffydd arrived at the house to which the prince had directed him. 

It was a two story house surrounded by a ten foot wall of earth and stone.  Set outside the town's gates as it was, the wall provided the house some protection.  A gate, wide enough to allow the entry of a wagon, provided entry to the courtyard surrounding the house. 

On the bottom floor was a kitchen, a large room filled with cots, and quarters for the house slaves.  Upstairs, was a room for Gruffydd, who would be living at the house, a study filled with books, an armory, and  a bedroom for Dylan and and his jilly boy.

It's not much of an army, thought Gruffydd, looking over the boys.  The tall, brown haired, boy, the one the prince had said was the leader, seemed fit enough, but his jilly boy was as frail as a girl. 

Upon his orders, all the boys stripped and stood before him naked.  Three of them didn't even have their man hair.  Two, besides Dylan's jilly boy, didn't have balls.  One, a black haired boy, didn't have a cock either.  He had the appearance of a jilly boy.  All, except for Dylan and the two jilly boys, were filthy, infested with lice and fleas.

Having been appraised of their condition by the prince, he'd brought barbers from the town.  Before he did anything -- before he would allow them in the house -- he would have them clean. 

First he had each boy shaved, both head and crotch, even Dylan and the jilly boys.  They were cleaner than the others, but they had lice.

Then, he had them bathed, scrubbed with strong soap until their skin was raw.  When the barbers and bathers had finished, thirteen bald, naked, boys lined up in front of him, Ten seemed half starved.   Only Dylan and the two jilly boys seemed well fed.

Gruffydd wondered about Dylan.  When he'd met him, Dylan had been naked like a slave, but the boy didn't conduct himself like a slave.  Something about his manner reminded Gruffydd of the prince, but he had brown hair and was shorter than the prince. 

Had he not been certain that the prince was an only child, he would have thought Dylan might be his brother. 

He realized he didn't know the true status of Dylan.  Gruffydd was in charge at the house, as he had insisted, but the other boys looked to Dylan as their leader.

He soon learned that Dylan could fight.  The prince was the only boy his age that might be able to best him.  Had the prince taught the boy?  Gruffydd saw him use some techniques he'd taught only the prince. 

The only fighting the other boys knew was was what they'd picked up on the streets.  Dylan's jilly boy knew nothing.  He even moved like a girl.  The other jilly boy wasn't much better.  The boy without balls was still strong.

* * *

Reluctantly, Emrys told Llywellyn what he was doing.  He had been loath to trust anyone with the knowledge that he was also, but he spent so much of his time as Dylan that he was beginning to think of himself as Dylan, not as the prince. 

Somehow, the change affected his mind as well as his body.  Being Dylan had an advantage, though.  Dylan could share his bed with Braith, the jilly boy.  Emrys couldn't share his with Megan. 

Even though Emrys had been sharing his bed with the jilly boy Megan had been, Emrys had felt that the God knew what he was doing, and that he was violating the vows he had taken as prince. 

Somehow, those vows didn't apply to Dylan.  The God didn't recognize Dylan.  Maybe Dylan wasn't actually Emrys; maybe they only shared cock and balls, eyes, and memories; maybe as Dylan, his princely vows didn't count.

He could have fucked Megan instead of Braith in the privacy of his room at Caerforon, as he called his little fort, but he didn't.

Although he was Dylan, he still had Emrys's cock and balls.  If Megan became pregnant, it would be with Emrys's child.  Braith, the boy, wouldn't become pregnant.

Even though a boy, Braith bled five days out of each month.  A small hole opened on his crotch, and he bled, not much -- Megan hadn't bled much either during her menses -- but he bled.  He was a boy on the outside, but still a girl on the inside. 

Llywellyn came to Caerforon each day to continue the lessons he'd been teaching the prince, teaching them now to both Dylan and Braith.  Another of his tutors taught the other boys, teaching them to read and write.  Before long, they were better educated than most nobly born boys their age. 

That Llywellyn was conducting classes away from the castle, ostensibly to provide Emrys with a broader breadth of knowledge of his kingdom, also gave both Emrys and Megan an excuse to be away from the castle. 

Still, her mother was concerned.

* * *

"You spend too much time with the prince," she said.

"We are chaperoned," said Megan.  Llywellyn is with us."

"I doubt that he instructs you all the hours you are gone from the castle," Trista said.  Then, raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Are you lying with the prince?"

Megan said, "No."  She wasn't, after all, not as Megan she wasn't, and even the boy, Braith, was lying with the boy, Dylan, not with the prince.  She'd never been able to lie to her mother, but this -- at least -- wasn't entirely a lie.  Maybe her mother wouldn't recognize it as such.

"Have you lain with the prince," her mother asked.

To this, she couldn't say no, and knowing that she couldn't, said yes.  That was the problem with having a wizard for a mother.   She knew when her daughter lied.

"When?" asked her mother.  The look she wore on her face frightened Megan.

"Months ago," Megan answered.

"Has he broken your maidenhead?  Are you with his child?"

"Yes he has broken my maidenhead," Megan answered, looking down at the floor, not wanting to see her face when she said it.  "No, I am not with child."

Trista grabbed her shoulders, pulling her around so she looked into her face, "Yet, you haven't lain with him since?"

"No," said Megan.  If it were a lie, her mother didn't seem to know it.

Trista slapped her twice -- hard.  It was the first time her mother had ever hit her.  "You must not see him again.  I forbid you to continue your lessons with him."

"I love him," said Megan.

Slapping her again, Trista said, "All the more reason you mustn't see him.  You've already been ruined.  Even I can't repair your maidenhead.  No one will have you now."

"I don't care," said Megan.  "I don't want anyone else."  Not anyone other than Dylan, that is.  She wondered what it would be like to fuck Dylan as Megan.  She never had.

"I'm sending you away," her mother said.  "I won't take the chance that you ruin me as well.  If the king found out, he might cast us both out.

"Surely not," said Megan.

"When your father was alive, I would have said not; now I don't know.  The king isn't the man he once was.  He listens too much to his wizard -- and I trust the wizard not.  He looks for a reason to be rid of me.  I'm sending you away tomorrow.  You won't return until the prince is married and has a son."

"I won't go," said Megan, "I would rather die."

"Then you'll die," said her mother.  "You and the prince might not know your duties, but I know mine. 

You're fortunate that I don't repudiate you.  Another word, and I will.  I won't have a daughter that thinks with her cunt.  If you want to act like a slave girl, you'll become one."

Megan went to her room, knowing from the look on her mother's face that more words would do no good.  In her mother's eyes, she had committed the worst of crimes. 

She had disgraced herself and her mother.  Without an intact maidenhead, she could never marry; and a woman only had status through her husband.  Worse still, she had fucked the prince.  If she'd had a child, both she and it could have well been killed.

That night, Braith left the palace by the postern gate.  Megan wouldn't be coming back.