Phantom Castrato, The - Part 3


By: ^Paolox3_ ([email protected])

Post feedback for this author or
review this story for Archive readers.

[GAY] [TESTICLES] [MINOR]


Simon the Byzantine Eunuch finds that even the best laid plans go 
astray.

A - E       F - J      K - O     P - V     W - Z      Newest Files


Phantom Castrato part 3


     The remainder of that year passed without much excitement.  
Matt’s now-legendary outburtst in Church had caused a momentary 
scandal, but the Emporer denied it all.  Of course, I knew and I 
knew that Uncle knew, but neither of us was ready to take on the 
Emporer.  Eunuchs are not stupid.  We discussed it – once – and in 
a dazzling display of logic I managed to thoroughly impress my 
Uncle.  I didn’t dwell on my castration much anymore.  I had 
adapted to Academy life so well that it didn’t make much difference 
to me.  My studies continued, my cheat ring continued, the bribes 
continued, and so did the Empire.  After a brief Holiday visit with 
Uncle and my mother, I returned to school.  Life resumed its normal 
pace.  I’m sure that Uncle suspected that I was up to something.  
After all, my career HAD been mostly HIS idea.  I was careful not 
to let it show just how much I WAS up to, however.  Still, I should 
have kept my mouth shut.  I think that my off-hand comments to him 
that night raised some suspiscions.  In the end, I found that they 
had.
     Philos and Matt, I knew, were up to something.  As I said 
before, I should have seen it earlier.  Hell, I even encouraged it, 
come to think of it.  It was probably some cold-hearted remark I 
made to Philos and his seeming on-and-off infatuation with Matt.  
As I mentioned, I had been castrated much earlier in life than 
Philos had, and the whole idea of those carnal entertainments sort 
of amused me.  I didn’t understand them, but they amused me.  It 
was shortly after we all returned to school that it happened.  
Those of us who lived in the city proper, and those who lived not 
far out – had all gone home for brief visits with family and 
friends.  There were those with nowhere to go, of course.  
Unfortunately, Matt was one of them.  Philos didn’t feel 
comfortable enough to ask Matt to come home with him, and Matt 
certainly wasn’t welcome in the Palace.  I think the fact that I no 
longer really needed the fragile little fellow made me negligent of 
what he was going through.  As the holidays approached, all of the 
progress that he seemed to have made began to backslide.  He became 
more and more withdrawn, and seldom spoke.  He wasn’t eating, and 
he looked like an unmade bed.  Philos wasn’t spending too much time 
with him anymore, and even though we still shared a cell, neither 
was I.  Our relationship had grown somewhat academic and business-
like, and looking back, I now realize that I wasn’t paying much 
attention to this boy who thought that we were friends.  We decided 
to leave him alone and to make him come to us.

     I’ve spent several centuries thinking about this.  I think the 
time we gave him is what made him more vulnerable than he had ever 
been.

     Matt finally spoke up, late one night.  It was one of those 
nights when sleep would not come to him.  He woke me up sometime in 
the middle of the night.  Even by the light of his small lamp, I 
could see that he had been crying.  His white nighshirt caught the 
warm glow of the flame, and the dim light gave his gaunt facial 
features an unearthly glow.  He just stood there, looking for all 
of the world like a lost soul who desperately wants to move on but 
does not know how.  I was still sharing a room with him, even 
though I was seldom there in it.  Most of my things, books and 
such, were still in my old cell and I tended to study and make 
plans there.  Philos spent more time in Matt’s cell than I did.  
But that was the core of the problem.  Philos hadn’t been spending 
much time there lately.  The desertion over the holidays certainly 
had not helped.
     Matt just stood there, staring.  I called to Philos in the 
next cell.  He came.
     It was Philos who spoke first.  “Matt?  What’s wrong? ” He 
asked softly.
     The little eunuch’s head turned slowly, fresh tears running 
down his cheeks.  The lamp’s light lit up his pale hair, and a 
familiar chill passed through me.  I think that my own upbringing 
in a loving family must have polarized me.  I had someone to fall 
back on, someone to impress.  So did Philos.  Matt didn’t.  Somehow 
I just couldn’t realize fully the plight of this weak eunuch boy 
who had been consigned to a cold, hard Academy against his will.  I 
watched as Philos held out his arms to Matt, who took one uncertain 
step forward and then fell into them.  Philos set the lamp on his 
nightstand, and held the slight boy as a fresh storm of weeping 
shook his thin body.  Through the choked sobs I made out the 
words, “You don’t love me either.”  I should have known where it 
was going.
     I could just hear Philos’ stuttering reply about not being 
able to admit it.  He tried to blame it on his own feelings of sin, 
morality, beliefs, upbringing…he was grasping at straws.  I had a 
good idea what had been going on, and this confirmed it.  They were 
lovers, but Philos was beginning to have doubts.  He was probably 
also enduring another of those “unable to perform” times.  It isn’t 
that eunuchs aren’t capable of love; but Philos’ relationship with 
Matt wasn’t love.  It was lust, and when the fires of Philos’ 
limited lusts cooled, so did his attitude towards Matt.  Of course, 
pulling the moral and sinful excuses on him wasn’t a good idea.  
This time, he didn’t go off though.  He tried to pull away from the 
bigger eunuch’s embrace, but Philos was too strong for him.  
Weakly, he began to flail at Philos with his small fists.  All I 
could do was watch as Philos’ weak excuses drove Matt deeper and 
deeper into himself. 
    Certainly Matt knew that he couldn’t hurt the bigger boy, but 
still he tried.  He was hurting, more than we realized, and he had 
to lash out somehow.  Still, Philos held him, his face unreadable.  
He looked slightly confused and frustrated at his own 
shortcomings.  Finally, Matt gave up and slumped in Philos’ much 
stronger arms.
     “You left me here,” he whispered, “You both did.  I thought 
you were my friends.”
     “Matt,” I began, hoping to salvage something of what I feared 
was coming, “I don’t know what to say.  I just didn’t think.  I DO 
like you.  I’m sorry.”
     “If you really liked me,” he retorted weakly, “then why did 
you tell that fourth year student that you had some information 
concerning his younger brother and the clerk in the hall of 
records?  Why did you tell him that you knew because ‘the sickly 
little bastard overheard it?’  Why did you laugh?  Why, Simon? ”

     One would think after almost ten centuries that the right 
words would come.  They haven’t.

     “You used me, “ Matt accused in a voice scarcely more than a 
gasp.
     “What?”
     “Philos told me.”
     Then it hit me.  In our triad of bribery and deceit, we were 
all party to each other’s secrets.  We all had to know what all 
three of us were doing to make it work.  I realized, too late, my 
mistake. 
     “The first time we DID it, he told me,” Matt choked, “I’m not 
that dumb.  I could see it in his eyes.  I asked why he waited so 
long.”  Still, Philos held him tightly, his own head bowed and 
resting on Matt’s slight shoulder.  “You both used me, Simon.  YOU 
used me to get the stuff you needed because of who I am, the 
Emporer’s bastard son, and where I could get in to.  And Philos,” 
he choked out, half turning to face the larger boy who held 
him, “YOU used me for your own lusts, didn’t you?  Simon didn’t 
want you to at first, because he was afraid you’d hurt me.  He 
needed to keep using me and he was afraid you’d hurt me some 
night. ”
     “Matt…” Philos attempted, failing, “It’s just that, I felt 
that …you’re just so small and weak.  No one wanted to hurt you.  
My family wouldn’t have understood it.” 
     But the little eunuch interrupted him, his emotions shifting 
from crushing pain and loss to anger.  “Then SAY it, Philos.  Say 
you love me.  Tell me you’re the only person in the whole world who 
does.”
     Even by the faint light of that one small lamp, I could see 
the horrible pleading in those gray eyes.
     The silence was crushing.  I swear the temperature of the room 
fell.
     To this day I don’t think Matt could have ever understood what 
kind of hell Philos was going through.  Perhaps the self-loathing 
was too much for him, or the guilt.  Perhaps he thought he really 
did love this boy, but just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.  
We’d all been taught that ‘sodomy’ was quite the sin, and heard so 
much about lusts of the flesh.  As eunuchs, we weren’t supposed to 
have that problem, but… I’ll never know.  Maybe Philos even thought 
that his late castration had made him gay.  Or maybe it was what he 
feared that his family might think, or what they might do if they 
were the types that weren’t tolerant of such vices.  At last, he 
released Matt from his grasp.  “I’m sorry,” he cried, and fled the 
cell.  I’ve been haunted by that look on Matt’s face for the last 
thousand years, that look of utter despair and loss as he watched 
Philos go.  I had nothing to say.  Matt’s accusations were true and 
I knew it.  With tears running down his beardless cheeks, Matt blew 
out the lamp and cried himself to sleep.  I stayed awake for a long 
time, wondering what Uncle would do in this situation.  I must have 
drifted off sometime before dawn, but when I awoke, Matt was gone.  
His bed was cold.
     
     It all exploded the next morning.  I was on my way to morning 
Service when the Master stopped me in the hall.  I had still seen 
no trace of Philos or Matt.  “You and I WILL talk NOW, Simon, “ he 
said harshly, grabbing my shoulder in a painful grip and leading me 
to his office.  My heart felt as if it had fallen into my boots 
when I was placed in a high back chair in front of the Master’s 
desk.  My throat tightened as I looked at the stack of papers on 
that desk, papers that I knew all too well.  When Uncle walked 
through the side door, my heart nearly stopped.  He stared at me, a 
look of horror on his face.  It had obviously been an eventful 
night.  In his hand he held a small piece of paper.  Even from the 
backside, I could see a dark name signed at the bottom.  The 
backward letters read “Matthias the Unloved.”
     Wordlessly, Uncle handed me the paper.  I read it twice to let 
it sink in.  
     “What have you DONE, boy? “ my Uncle demanded, “What kind of 
twisted game are you playing here?  Bribing fellow students is one 
thing, but this … this … “ Words seemed to fail him.  They hadn’t 
failed the Master, however.
     “What he has done, sir, has killed a student of this Academy.”
     I gasped.  “WHAT ?!” I demanded.  As far as I knew, the worst 
things that I had done were threatening our priest with exposing 
the fact that he was messing around with the Master’s niece, and 
getting one troublesome hulk of a senior student expelled for 
entertaining a young lady in his cell.  (There’s that carnal 
entertainment, again.)  
     Uncle answered for him.  His face was haunted.  “Your so-
called friend Matthias killed himself this morning, Simon.  Your 
other friend, Philos, tried to stop him, but he couldn’t.  After 
that chat we had a while back, I began to suspect that you were up 
to something.  I had NO idea it was this bad, though.  Young 
Matthias threw himself off of the western battlement roof around 
sunrise this morning.  His letter of goodbye he left for you is 
pretty damning, especially when combined with all these documents, 
don’t you think?  Overall, it’s pretty amazing what you managed to 
pull off here.  I suppose, I am somehow to blame by setting a bad 
example?  Fortunately, no one believes a word of those papers you 
miraculously heisted from the Palace.  Everyone thinks that the 
imperial seals are fakes.  You’re lucky no one believes that 
Matthias really was the Emporer’s bastard son.  I might be able to 
salvage SOMETHING of this.”
     I remember that letter well.  It has long since turned to dust 
over Time, but its words are still with me:
  
To Anyone Who Might Care,
After what has happened to me, I do not think I can go on with this
Life any longer.  No one loves me, nor wants me.  My own mother
didn’t care for  me, and  my father  is  the  one responsible  for  
my
being a  eunuch  and  abandoned here  at  this place where I am all
alone.  I thought I had found two friends, and someone who DID
love me at last,  but  I was wrong.  Not even God wants me.    The
priest says I  cannot  be  blessed  nor  baptized, so  what  does  
that
leave me ?  I am neither healthy nor strong, and being castrated 
has only made
matters  worse.   I don’t like who I am, and I can’t stand it any 
longer.    
I can see only one way out.  
Lay the final blame at
Simon’s feet, for it was he who did this to me.        
Goodbye.

     At the bottom of the note was signed in blood, ‘Matthias the 
Unloved.”  There were spots on the letter itself, mute testimony to 
the fact that Matt had still been crying when he had written it.  
On the Master’s desk were all of the carefully planned schemes, who 
was being played off of whom, who was paying what for what 
courtesies or silences.  Even who was being ‘helped’ in which 
classes.  All of it was there.  Even Matthias’ own box where he hid 
his share of the profits was also there.  

     A word of advice here – if you ever get into this jaded game, 
don’t EVER put anything down in writing.

     Again, the question: “What have you DONE?”

     And I had no answer.  The cold-hearted ambition and drive to 
succeed fell away.  It certainly picked a bad time for it.  I 
remember suddenly feeling a surge of pity for Matt, albeit much too 
late.  I bowed my head and listened to my Uncle, my benefactor, the 
one who had put me on this course.  He tore me to shreds in 
minutes.  Strangely, I didn’t cry.  Even with all of my lies and 
plots laid out in front of me, everything exposed, I didn’t cry.  
Then Uncle’s tirade stopped.  I heard papers flipping, but didn’t 
dare look up.  “You stepped over the line in taking on an 
administrator and a priest, Simon.  Did you really believe that 
someone like the Master here wouldn’t know how to deal with 
schemeing little students such as you?  Cheating in class or 
bribing other students is one thing, but this … my God!  Matthias’ 
findings must have turned the trick to keep it running for so long, 
but you went too far.  Even if this tragedy hadn’t happened to 
Matthias, you would have been caught eventually.  You’d have made a 
perfect lawyer or prefect, you know.  After all I did for you, 
Simon, how could you DO something like this to your Mother and I? ”

     Again, I had no answer.  I merely shook my head.

     I never saw Philos again.  I’m sure he made statements to 
cover himself.  He couldn’t have been that stupid, and he certainly 
knew enough to be more than helpful in destroying me.  Uncle 
handled the matters with the Academy with his practiced grace and 
skill.  He cleaned up the messes I had made.  My documents and 
plans, all of the evidence, and testimony from all of those whom I 
had targetted in the past two years all disappeared under his 
artful hand while I sat, under guard, chained in the lower level of 
the Academy.  In times past it had served as a dungeon, and it was 
doing so once again.  It was there in those terrible days of cold 
and dark, without much food or water, that I began to lose it, I 
believe.  I began to think I had been forgotten.  Time became 
meaningless to me.  Each day, while I was awake, was just a passing 
cycle of night followed by dim light.  Only the murmurs of the door 
guards reminded me that someone was out there.  Uncle had said he 
might be able to salvage something, but I doubted it.  In all of my 
memory, I had thought that Uncle never made mistakes.  But there, 
alone in the dark, I realized the one grand mistake that he HAD 
made.  He made ME.

     I knew I was in trouble when Matt showed up.  I awoke to see 
him standing over me, holding his night lamp.  The pale glow 
illuminated his own paler body and nightshirt.  One of his eyes was 
swollen shut, however, and his head was dented in on one side.  
Blood ran freely from his nose and mouth, and his front teeth were 
gone.  His lips were swollen.  The arm, which he had broken shortly 
after his arrival, was broken again.  He looked terrible.  All 
traces of his boyish beauty that he had derived from his own 
fragility had been torn away in his fall.  I also realized that I 
could see right through him.  He reached out and touched my face, 
and in that instant, I felt his pain and knew his loss.  All of the 
rejection and hatred that had been aimed at this poor child for all 
of his short life flooded through me.  I saw the ground, the 
flagstones below from atop the roof.  I felt feet that were not 
mine standing at the edge.  And then I was falling.  From behind 
me, I could rushing steps and heard Philos’ scream.  Part of me 
knew that I was still kneeling in the darkness of my prison, but 
another part of me was falling.  The wind was cool on my face, and 
I could see the eastern sky turning softly red and then orange to 
yellow as I/we fell.  I saw the pavement coming up to meet me/us.  
I felt the impact.  I know now that I screamed for days.  Finally, 
my voice gave out.  Whenever I opened my eyes, he was there, 
crying.  When I closed them, I could hear him whispering to 
me, “Say it.  Make HIM say it.  Doesn’t anyone love me?”

     And now you know why that dumb movie and that little boy who 
saw dead people upsets me so.

     I awoke one morning to find myself at home in my own bed.  I 
heard a voice, somewhat familiar, and realized that it was my 
Uncle.  “He was only down there for a week.”  One week?  It had 
seemed like years.  Suddenly it came back to me – Matthias, Matt as 
we had called him.  He wasn’t there.  I couldn’t hear him.  Where 
was he?  I must have said it aloud, for it brought Uncle and one of 
his friends into the room.  The doctor who had performed my 
castration so long ago was also with them.  He quickly pulled back 
the sheet, exposing my nakedness, and began going over me.  There 
were manacles connected by a short chain on my ankles.  I 
remembered.  I closed my eyes and fell back onto the pillow.  I 
didn’t care.
     “He’s dead, Simon.  Remember?  You killed him.  You pretended 
to be his friend, gave him a false lover, and used him.  He killed 
himself because of YOU.”
     “What have you done to him? “ I heard the doctor ask, “He 
looks as if he’s been starved and beaten for months! “
     My Uncle, ever the diplomat, was quick to reply.  “He spent 
one week alone in the Academy basement, doctor, in chains.  He was 
fed and unmolested.  I had guards on the door.  The law wants him 
and you wouldn’t BELIEVE what I had to go through to bring him 
home.  He still isn’t out of it yet.  Emporer Michael has taken a 
special interest in his head.”
     “Such a future, laid waste, “ I heard the other man say, but 
it meant nothing to me.  Something inside of me had changed.  
Something felt different.  I felt like I did on the morning that 
Matt had exploded in Church.  Their voices seemed to fade off, and 
I could hear Mother crying.  I think it was Mother.  It could have 
been Matt.  It could have been me.  I don’t remember.  I had 
dishonored them.  I had thought that I was doing what was expected 
of me. 
     I had failed.
     Disjointed fragments of conversation came to me, but none of 
it mattered.  Matt, an Innocent victim of circumstance, was dead at 
my own hand.  With a bitter realization, I found myself admitting – 
albeit a bit late in the game -- that I had indeed cared.  Had I 
not cared, I would had not have threatened the priest who refused 
to bless Matt and baptize him.  The doctor covered me once again, 
tucked the blankets around my chin, and rested a warm palm on my 
forehead.  I focused on his face.  I could hear words from the 
other room, “disappointing … evil … so intelligent for his age … 
didn’t raise him for this … how … over and done…” but it all faded 
off.  I awoke later that evening, as the sun was setting, painting 
the western sky in blazing orange and reds.  As the clouds began to 
turn purple, I sat up and noticed something on the stand by my 
bed.  It was a note.  I also noticed that the chains were gone from 
my ankles.  There was a pack and a set of new clothes laid out for 
me.  The clothes were common travelling ones, not an Academy robe.  
The note simply read:

Simon, there is nothing more I can do.  Leave, and do NOT return.
 
     I knew then, as I stood up and looked at my own naked body, 
and at the clothes, that this must be how Matthias (Matt … ) had 
felt.  I was alone now.  Rejected by everyone.  For what I had 
done, I was to be exiled.  I figured I wasn’t safe in the Empire 
anymore, and Uncle knew it as well.  He might be able to protect 
himself, but me – the murdering little eunuch nephew?  The pride of 
a famous family gone bad?  Forget it.  I dressed in the clothes of 
a free boy, clothese that felt so strange to me, and left the only 
home that I had ever known.  It felt like dying.  I know, because 
it wasn’t long until I actually did that.  I made my way out of 
town, caught a ride east, and took ship across the Bosphorus the 
next morning.  Uncle had packed enough money for me to get far 
enough out of the Empire so that I would be of no more trouble to 
him.  Of course no one would recognize me.  I was just another 
young boy out travelling, gone to meet someone or to visit a remote 
monastery.  I was not defenseless, for there was a short sword in 
my pack and I knew well how to use it.  I disembarked outside the 
Empire soon thereafter.  
     I sat for a long while on that rocky beach, watching the ship 
sail away.  I was alone, like Matt had been.  I was a eunuch, cast 
adrift in a world where no one wanted me.  Of course, there were 
career opportunities for eunuchs, but I was out of the Empire and 
taking care of harem ladies didn’t appeal to me.  I also did NOT 
want to be a cleric of any type any more.  Even if I did find a 
place somewhere on the furthest reaches of the Empire, there was 
the chance that someone might recognize me.  Besides, even eunuchs 
needed references.  A simple lack of balls wasn’t enough.  I knew 
that as I grew older, it would become more and more obvious that I 
was not a man, but a eunuch.  Were that discovered, I also might be 
mistaken for a runaway slave boy.  Of course, I would have no 
family, no one to come home to each night.  But then again, I was 
fresh out of homes anyway.  
     I slept under the stars that night, alone and cold.  I know I 
didn’t cry, however.  When I awoke the next morning, I took the 
short sword from my pack.  Perhaps during the voyage across the 
narrow bit of sea was when the idea had come to me.  Perhaps it had 
come when the spectre of Matt had visited me in the basement.  
Regardless of when the idea formed, however, I awoke the next 
morning certain of what I had to do.  It was the only thing I COULD 
do.  I said his name out loud one time as I slipped the razor sharp 
blade between my ribs.  Uncle had given me a good weapon, and there 
was only a little pain as the blade found its way to my heart.  It 
must have pierced it easily, considering for so long that there had 
been nothing there.  I think my castration had hurt worse.
      Dying isn’t so bad, really.  Trust me.
     It’s what you did while you were alive that matters.  I 
watched, detached, as my young body fell forward onto the sword, 
driving the blade up and out of my back.  So many dreams died with 
it.  Then he was there, all traces of his horrible mutilation 
gone.  Matthias the Unloved stood there on that rocky beach, 
staring at me, and staring at the part of me that lay dying, as the 
sun rose behind him.  He glowed with an unearthly light as I 
watched that pale young eunuch’s body fall to its side and die, 
alone, cold, and unloved… 
     “The priest was wrong, Simon, “ the phantom castrato said 
softly, reaching out a perfect hand to take mine in his, “but 
you’ll probably never know that.  It’s time to pay for what you 
did.”
     I pulled my own transparent hand out of his and backed away 
from him.  In life, Matt had been a frail and sickly boy, 
threatening to no one.  But as the final sigh of the Breath of Life 
leaving my dying body was carried away by the salty-smelling 
breeze, he began to take on the look of the very Wrath of God 
Itself.  He made a sweeping gesture with the arm which he had 
broken so long ago.  “The world is yours, Simon Peter of 
Constantinople, “ he said in a sweet boyhood voice that seemed to 
shake the very Earth, ”You are free to roam it at will until you 
finally understand the Import of what you did.  You will wander, a 
lost and lonely, empty soul of a self-centered eunuch for as long 
as it takes.  Everything that you missed out on in Life, you will 
watch pass before you.  You will see love, loss, pain and joy.  You 
will help, in some obscure way, to shape the patterns of lives that 
you COULD have had, but didn’t.  You will atone before you rest, my 
Friend.”
     And then he was gone.
     
     I stayed on that wind-swept and rocky beach for a very long 
time, considering his words.  A few days later, a high tide took my 
wasted body out to sea.  The worst part of it, worse than my 
consignment to being a roaming Shade or the fact that no one would 
find my body and mourn the loss, was the final smile with which he 
had left me.  Matthias the Unloved, an Innocent who had died by my 
own designs, had forgiven me.

     I guess if that kid from the Academy Awards had been there, he 
could have seen us both, watching my body die. He could have 
uttered his famous line again.  He certainly would have seen me … 
he still can.  For now “I” am the Phantom Castrato.  Matt moved 
on.  I haven’t.  It’s been a thousand years and more, but here I 
am, writing it all down for someone to read.  I think they said his 
name was Haley, that strange boy in the movie.  He looked so much 
like Nicky, but that’s another long story.


Return To The Eunuch Archive