The Prince's Boy

THE PRINCE'S BOY: CHAPTER 65

65: Kenet

Just as no one had told me how the sea would sound, no one had told me how a ship would smell. Like salt and spray, and like the sweat of men working, that I expected. But the sails and deck in the sun had a scent of their own, sweet in the way that some of the fragrant trees in the deep woods smelled.

As we sat on the deck in the sun, I remarked upon this to Roichal, who merely looked at me curiously.

We were not the only passengers aboard. Roichal had secured us a place upon a vessel bound for Port Aris. As he explained to me we would merely remain on the deck of the ship during the night. He had sold Kinsall at a hurried price, and bought food for himself and Jort for the short voyage, as well as a new shirt for me, and held the rest in reserve rather than waste it on a cabin below. There were others who spent on such luxuries, though I heard them complaining that the cabins were dark and cramped.

Roichal had wanted to have a pair of boots made for me, but there had not been time before we had to catch the tide. If we had clear sailing, he said, we would be in port by the next noon.

The day had been clear enough, and soon the excitement of leaving behind the land gave way to the monotony of sea on all sides and the endless rushing of the water against the side of the ship. Jort was ill over the rail, but the motion of the waves did not affect me. The sailors made quite a favorite of me over this fact, though I did not tell them that I thought it because I had no food in my stomach to make me sick. There was much praising of me.

And appraising. I was no longer surprised by this. I knew how they saw me, a shoeless blond youth in the company of an older man. Roichal kept a close watch over me, though, and the sailors made no advances while the sun shone.

After sundown, however, the crew shared some strong drink, and took to singing and performing, not unlike the soldiers in the camp. The passengers were welcome to join them, and the other group, who had stayed below much of the day, had come up to take the night air and enjoy the festivity.

Their leader, I saw, was an older man, older even than Roichal, his face seamed and polished. In his company he had a few other men and a somewhat chubby youth.

He looked to be about my age, perhaps slightly younger, or maybe that was his baby-cheeked smile that made him seem so. He took to gamboling about with the sailors. He had thrown off his tunic early in the dancing, and I saw rather than trousers he had a dark-colored cloth wound all around his privates. He tugged on the hands of several of the men, urging them to dance as well, yet I was unprepared for it when he suddenly leapt over to me and pulled at my hand.

"Dance, dance!" he said. "We should dance together!" A great roar of approval went up from the sailors at that prospect.

I pulled my hand back, but he held me fast. "I do not know this dance," I said. "I do not..."

"I will show you," he said, with an exaggerated swivel of his hips, prompting more cheers from the men.

"No!" I most assuredly did not want that kind of attention.

Roichal was there, one of his hands on my shoulder, the other on the boy's, pushing us apart. "I do not allow my boy to dance," he said.

The other boy bared his teeth at him in a kind of feral grimace, then went scampering back to his leader. They had a hurried conversation that only they could hear, and then the man called out, "You have insulted Dursht."

Roichal stood with me behind him. "I mean no offense. But my boy does not display his charms before others."

That prompted a great chuckling. "You mean," said the elder, "except for a price. But surely you see the value in advertising the goods? Or are you saving him for the competition?"