He never posted standards
of power and position; they were vain and lead the enemy straight to the head
of his army--himself. On vague occasion in battle, if he did post fake banners,
usually beside an ostentatious looking structure, it always attracted heroically
intent assassins and cutthroats. There was no way, except by knowing, which
well-traveled, fairly uniform-sized tent belonged to the General.
The Princess was riding
the Sacred White Mare without any gear, and had taken to fidgeting with some
leather tie or such on her shoulder. Not once did she ever gaze up from her
somewhat earnest activity, as the animal turned, apparently of its own accord,
and took Dara straight to his tent. He was several yards away and behind,
hidden from her view, although she was visible to him.
Her arrival was a slightly
eerie demonstration, since most anyone seeing Belloche would have assumed
that Tor's tent was where he and his men now stood, by the horses.
She dismounted and
plainly ordered the restless animal to remain, as she walked around and came
towards him. He met her part of the way. Krel and the others stiffly and formally
welcomed her, from a distance, then left him alone with the disconcerting
young woman. He turned 'round to Belloche, who was noisily straining at his
frustrating hobble, to be with the mare.
In a deadly swift gesture,
Dara flung, from a wristholder, a slender blade, that cut the leather binding
the fidgeting beast's forward ankles before it ran off in pursuit of her runaway
mount.
"Belloche!!"
The animal half turned but did not heed him, as it pursued the female of his
species out of camp and off across the grassy plain.
"They will be
back."
She said it quietly
in the High Court tongue of her Nuban father, with absolute guileless conviction.
He hoped she was right because Belloche was his most favourite mount, especially
in battle, and his most treasured gift from Celaden.
Tor retrieved her knife
from out the ground and barely saw her heel, as she slipped into his quarters.
He followed her in, dropping the flap for privacy, and allowed her the same
privilege she had given him their first night, to roam the darkened "room"
freely. His private tent was simple and a little Spartan, no luxurious gold,
feathers, or sleeping platforms, just a battle cot and other things of necessity,
except a floor of various carpets and the small, gold, lionheaded goddess
statuette from Egypt given him after he had become well known and feared.
"Ah, General,
Sekhmet The Destroyer goddess. Interesting. I was told that you have no religion."
So, she too, of course, has spies.
"I do not. Other
than war. That's Krel's gift, a brotherly joke."
"For General Tor…'The
Destroyer'."
He did not like it,
his "pet name" but hearing the Princess say it bothered him more
than having anyone else say it. The appellation had come to him early and
grown, and was as if part of him now. King Celaden had ordered his people
to never mention in front of Queen Sera's People the name given to his most
favoured general by those they had previously conquered. Tor had advised him
that it would not matter, that such a thing had wings of its own, as he softly
acknowledged her words.
"I am called that."
His tone sounded to her ear as tinged with regret and guarded by resignation.
He, for his part, could
not move, in fact, he could barely breathe. If it had been anyone else but
her, he would have pretended casualness and charm, irreverence even about
it. But not with her. Plus, if any of the King's people had--.
"None of your
people spoke of it, not that I know of. You have your spies and I have mine."
He smiled and nodded,
knowing such insights as hers, such brazenness as to come to his headquarters
before the talks, virtually unarmed and now unmounted would…coming from anyone
else, alarm him. That was not true, he was alarmed, but not for his men, but
for himself.
"Thank you, Princess,
for protecting my people in this. Our king was afraid the…label might--."
"Alarm us?"
It was odd that she chose that exact word.
"Yes. I asked
him not to concern himself with it; but, I serve at his pleasure."
She did not blink or
seemingly add any guile or cuteness to her manner or speech.
"And, what do
you serve at my pleasure, Tor?"
She had a way of neutrality,
of completely blanking herself that he had already noticed, so he could not
read now if she were angry, sad…happy. Except when he made love to her, then
she did not hold her passions tight and hidden.
He was normally excellent
at reading people, and Krel often asked him for his opinion of women's attitudes,
because his younger brother knew that though he himself was a "fine catch"
there were just as many, more even, who wanted him in order to get to Tor.
Not Their King…but Tor, who had always attracted attention, just by being.
His expertise about women, even about things, which most husbands did not
know or want to know, Tor knew. Alone, Krel sometimes called him "the
Midwife". Actually, Tor found that particular name much less offensive
than "The Destroyer" though the latter was far more greatly deserved.
"I serve My Princess
however she wishes."
Her demeanor did not
change in the least. Celaden would probably put him to the sword himself for
flubbing this Treaty by slighting the Queen's right hand, her sister, their
Shaman Prime. Having lain with her for two nights had not made him an expert
in her mind or her heart. For all he knew, in his ardent desire to have her,
this Princess Dara may actually have no heart….
He did not believe
that possible; but, still, she was a royal, and heartlessness was often a
given trait.
"If I have...offended
you somehow, My Princess, I apologize and beg you to tell me what I did...or
did not do, so that I may not do it again...or, if I have pleased you, that
I will do it a--."
He tried not to laugh
at himself but it was funny, and she thought so too, as her hearty laugh fell
on his eardrums like soft bubbles. She came to him and stretched up to rub
her nose across his bearded chin, then to brush her lips against those same
soft, black hairs…so near his hungering lips.
"You may merely
call me Dara, even in the presence of others. However, I must belatedly chastise
you."
"What for, Your
Highness?"
"For leaving me,
these two morns, to awaken with you on my mind and to find you gone. For many
tribes, lying in a woman's bed and then exiting it…without leave is a declaration
of hostility. With the ardour you burned me with these past two evenings,
and now in seeing your quarters, I would think that you would not have been
so eager to leave my side and come back to this austere dwelling."
"I…did not wish
to leave."
"Then why did
you?" She saw that he did not fully move but did pull back in posture,
formalizing whatever thoughts were going through his handsome head.
"I realized how
my action could appear; but, I…I…did not wish to...overstay." He also
did not wish to mention other lovers in her presence but he feared he could
not afford to be anything but honest and hope it would not be held or used
against him. "It has been my experience that many women…of your
rank and station may enjoy my company in the cool discretion of darkness but
are less…pleased with the same in the bright daylight. It was paramount to
me, not to offend you in the latter manner, and so I--."
"Abandoned me
to warm and amuse myself."
Her sharp sense of
humour was, at times, not as formal and "sane" as her sister, Queen
Sera, wished, that was quite clear. For he had seen a few frustrated glances
from her sibling's direction the past days; however, with the language sometimes
hampering them, and…well, he just was not certain if she teased him or was
seriously upset. High Court Nuban was not as familiar to him as his own Egyptian
Blacklander tongue.
"I did not wish
to offend you, Princess, I…thought it best…." Her languid movement to
step back from him, to give him a better view halted his tongue.
She undid the shoulder
lacings of her loose, sideslit, leather dress, which fell and left her naked
except for the riding leggings harnessed on her. The leg coverings also were
loose, without a seat or crotch, strapped together around her hips so they
would not fall. She placed her cool body against his. The feel of her nude
body against his hot bare chest was more than he could bear and forced him
to his knees, which brought his mouth equal to her breasts, and he made her
pleasure and his own as he alternated sucking one and then the other into
his mouth.
The coldly strategic
part of his brain noted dimly for the third time in seeing her full beauty,
that her body had never borne a child to another, which pleased him.
He kissed then cupped
her warm, fragrant crotch in his palm, as he loosed his pants with his other.
His fingers slipped into the humid valley before him and it was already swollen
hot, overflowing, and ready for him. She slowly turned from him, exposing
her flawless equestrian bottom, as she went down on hands and knees before
him. He fondled her rump, kissed, nibbled, and licked it, then slid into her
when she arched her back in signal to receive him.
If the Treaty between
them brought him nothing more than this, he would be content.
* * * *
They were dressed again;
his eyes were on her lying on his cot, playing with the Sekhmet. His past
did not seem to bother her, which was good because it was not something he
preferred talking about, despite not being able to avoid it. He did as he
did for His King; and he was very good at it, which was bad for others.
"Lie beside me,
Tor."
He did as she requested.
The cot was small but steady enough for two, which had been proven many times.
Dara gave him the statuette and he reached back to put it on the floor, and
she took his hand when it returned, slipping it under the front flap of her
dress. He combed her soft pubic hairs, delighted to be getting more of her
aroused scent on him, as he heard the horses returning outside.
The talks would begin
soon…she opened her legs and guided his hand deeper.
"While you are
here, My Lord Tor, sleep in my bed every night, do as you wish with me, when
you wish. And do not further hold back and restrain your passions...or seed.
I would be entirely filled with you to bursting, and am yours for the length
of your stay, and I sincerely pray that it is a very long stay."
She purposefully turned
away from him, onto her side, resituating herself for him, as she pulled the
back flap of her dress aside; again, he was blessed with the sight and feel
of her beautiful, round derriere revealed above her riding leggings. He very
much enjoyed having this sort of intimacy with her. She was more…woman than
any other he had ever had--others had only taken his body or taken hold of
his mind; but, this…this one woman seized both. Despite knowing what and who
he was, she welcomed and accepted…all of him. And, this all encompassing desire…and
love? for him, seemed to Tor, entirely undiluted by political concerns
and distractions, or more personally--by sinister guile.
She undid him, completely,
and he was glad she could not see his face.
They made love again,
front to back, spooned together on his battle cot, before separating to formally
dress and meet again at the talks, to do what was formally required of them
publicly by Queen and King, and assiduously scrutinized by everyone of both
sides; then, after evening meal, he retired again to her side in her bed.
This was how their days grew into weeks and passed, work days separate from
their love nights. It was common knowledge among All Their People that Tor
had Dara's complete favour. And she his.
Except that among His
People was the fear that Their General, the feared Destroyer Himself, who
bent his knee to no one, neither man nor woman, save Their King, was now bending
to the will of the Mare Goddess' Witch.
[End of Excerpt]
Watchtower, Book 1, Excerpt 2
Watchtower, Book 2, Excerpt 1
Read
Excerpt of
HOBBLE
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Half Native
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dangerously spirals, as his compulsive and sexual, love entanglement
with DAY, a "knife-happy" African American "innocent", and her overbearing,
elderly British "guardian" threatens to cost Benn more than his life.
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