The Boy King

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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  The boy's small shoes were made of silk and embroidered with gold 
thread all around the soft-leather soles.  The silk was died in 
scarlet from saffron and the tips curved up and back, where tiny gold 
cones covered the very tips.  His feet dangled two feet from the 
mosaic floor where he sat in his elaborate padded chair in the 
receiving room.  His elaborate clothing seemed to weigh him down into 
the cushions.  His large brown eyes were outlined with kohl and his 
face had been dusted with a fine silver powder. His counselor sat to 
his right and several heavily armed guards stood behind him and to 
his left. His face was serious, his eyes narrowed in thought as he 
eyed the four boys who were brought before him.  

  He was the twelve year old king or, as he was known to his own 
people,  the sultan. The boy rose to the throne when his uncle, the 
former king, was assasinated and left no heirs for the throne.  

  "My Lord,"  the counselor said, leaning toward him.  The boy did 
not hear and he bent closer.  "Naqee!"

  The boy jumped, startled, and turned to look at Yusef, the 
counselor.

  "May I make a suggestion?"  He said.  "I have had experience 
chosing the finest speciments to be castrated for the household."

  Naqee frowned, sitting back in his chair and thinking for a 
moment.  Then he hopped from his chair, landing on the floor, his 
large hooped earings swinging.  Yusef opened his mouth, about to say 
something but then thought better of it and sat back.

  Naqee walked down the short flight of stairs before the throne and 
stood before the boys.  The lighted candles against the walls filled 
the room with a golden light.  The light reflected off Naquee's 
straight black hair, which was cut straight across above his brows, 
and in straight layers down to his shoulders, so that it looked like 
over-lapping shingles on a roof.  

  "So you don't think I can judge boys efficiently?" Naqee said, the 
voice was eerie coming from a boy so young.  His voice was hoarse, as 
if he were sick with a cold and sometimes its deep notes made the 
fine crystal vibrate (and sometimes it made one's fingertips 
quiver).  

  "I'm offended,"  Naqee said, turning to glance at Yusef for a 
moment before turning back to the boys.  "I'm not so naive.  I know 
the difference between something beautiful and something ugly.  I 
know how to judge the curve of the lips, the length of an eyelash."  
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Yusef.  "And yes, even the 
size of a cock."  He turned back to the boys and paced before them, 
eyeing them up and down.  He stopped before the shortest boy, who 
stood only a couple of inches taller than he.

  The boy had long shinning curly black hair down to the small of his 
back, and his eyes were huge and almost black.  He looked like he 
came from some barbaric people up in the mountains somewhere, and his 
glare confirmed it.  "This boy,"  Naquee said, "has the glare of a 
savage but is as dainty as a Christian angel.  He pleases me very 
much.  Cut him."  The boy let out a choked breath and then took a 
step towards him as if he meant him harm. Immediately two soldiers 
grasped him and dragged him away.  The boy shouted something in his 
native language that sounded like an insult.  Naqee was startled and 
somewhat frightened by the reaction but he tried to hide it.  He 
gulped and quickly scanned over the remaining three boys. "No no," he 
said, shaking his head.  "They look too manly, I'd feel like I'm 
fucking my father for godsakes, take them away."

  The boys were taken away and perhaps arranged to be re-sold.  Naqee 
stood there in the middle of the room, the thick haze from the 
insence surrownding him and glimmering as the gold on Naqee's 
clothing reflected through the smoke.  He turned to Yusef.  He arched 
a brow and tilted his head at the counselor.

  "My apologies," Yusef said with a smile.  "My Lord, does have an 
eye for the trade."  He hesitated and then bent forward.  "But do you 
really plan to take him to your bed?"

  "Of course,"  Naqee said, tossing his head to get a strand of hair 
away from his eye.

  "But, My Lord is so young. . ."

  "Oh please," Naqee said with a snort.  "Do you think all those 
nights spent with my uncle were spent reading fables?"

  This caught Yusef by surprise and he blushed. "I'm. . .I'm sorry."

  "No, it's alright,"  Naqee said with a smile.  "Between my uncle's 
cock and my father's whip, its a wonder I still have my lust.  But I 
suppose I wouldn't be human if I didn't.  But that IS a beautiful 
boy, now isn't it?"  He said, quickly trying to change the subject.

  Yusef shook his head.  "Not quite as beautiful as you."

  Naqee rushed to his rooms to change, looking very much like a 
servant boy scurrying about with his tiny frame.  He changed into 
less elaborate clothing, putting on a pair of leather trousers and a 
tunic.  He ran out into the courtyard and across to the slave 
quarters.  He knew the castration was going to take place there and 
he was excited to see it done.  He was as giddy as a boy is when the 
traveling acrobats come to the village.  

  He walked into the gelding room and then stopped short.  The boy he 
had chosen to be cut turned around suddenly to face him, his curls 
flying.  He had a maniatical expression on his face.

  And this time, no one was there to hold him back.