Randall's Gift

Randall’s POV

“You are the loveliest of the flowers in this garden, young man.”

The boy in question blushed the shade of glowing embers. Randall heard his breath hitch as he backed up a step and, turning on his heel, scampered away, back into the palace.

Douglas’s exasperated voice distracted Randall from watching the boy’s retreat. “Why do you always do that, m’lord?”

Randall looked at him, blinking innocently. “Do what, Douglas?”

He waved his hand at the retreating figure, “That.”

Randall chuckled softly and slung an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Douglas, my man, don’t you see the beauty in all the people around us?”

Douglas sighed. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but you tell everyone, sir.”

Randall laughed outright, giving Douglas a shake before releasing him. “Of course I do, and I bring joy into their hearts. But that isn’t why you brought me out here, is it?”

It was early spring and the flowers were making their presence known with deep scents and perfumes. They were heading out to the hedge maze. It was one of the few places they could wander and be safe from listening ears. Over the six years they’d lived in the palace, they’d mapped out all of the twists and turns. They could navigate the inner workings better than the gardeners who created it.

There were a few paths around the outer edge that most people knew. It led from the palace out to the homes of the lower nobles in a roundabout way. The walk was casual and pleasant, but most people avoided the center which was fraught with dead ends and thorny traps. These pathways tickled Randall to no end.

After a few minutes of losing themselves in the inner twistings of the maze, Douglas stopped. “M’lord, you may not remember this - and I know his majesty will surely not celebrate this, once again - but you turn twenty today, and I have a gift for you.”

Randall’s eyes widened and his heart beat faster. “Why, Douglas, a gift? You shouldn’t have.”

Douglas’s smile turned sly. “Oh, but I did.”

Randall’s joy began to sour. He narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Why, sir, nothing bad. Your schedule has been filling up, and you need more help than I can provide. Not to mention your need of a personal...” he waved his hand at Randall’s attempt at an outfit.

“What is wrong with my attire?”

Douglas coughed into his hand. "Nothing, m’lord.”

Randall shot him a meaningful look. “And stop with that before someone hears you and we both get sent to solitary for a week.”

“Right. Well, I have purchased for you...Jax.”

Randall frowned, confused. “What is a jax?”

Douglas grinned. “Jax is not a ‘what,’ sir. Jax is a ‘who.’”

As if Douglas had mysteriously summoned him, a pale slip of a man came around one of the thorny bushes. His shiny blond hair hung to his shoulders in waves, loose but well kept. He wore a white tunic belted at the waist and sandals. And the slave -- for he wore a collar -- was staring straight down at Randall’s shoes.

Randall sighed. He’d avoided owning a slave for he disapproved of the practice. “Douglas, you didn’t. And you think this...person, can help me organize and dress better.” He injected a measure of scorn in his voice.

Jax stiffened his spine and looked up as far as Randall’s chin, as was proper for a slave. Randall noted his eyes were the color of an ocean on a sunny day and that his collar was that of a sex slave, not just a slave.

Randall narrowed his eyes at Douglas, “What have you done?”

Before he could answer, Randall realized Jax was adjusting the fall of his sloppily drooping tunic from his shoulders. Before he could react, Jax was back where he started, standing with his eyes respectfully lowered and his hands clasped before his waist.

Douglas huffed. “That has been bugging me all morning. Thank you, Jax.”

Randall surveyed his outfit. He wasn’t sure what was fixed, but things seemed to be in good order, now. It was an improvement.

Douglas continued. “Think about it. You need a man-servant.”

Randall sighed.

Jax’s POV

The lord’s friend told Jax that he should follow his instincts, that he wouldn’t get punished, but fixing the lord’s doublet without permission could get him more than a beating. He held his breath, focusing on the center of the lord’s chest while he decided if Jax was good enough to be his man-servant.

Jax hoped. He never wanted to be a sex slave, but at least this lord was attractive. The lord’s friend said that the braided collar was a joke and he wouldn’t be used in that way, but Jax knew better. There was only one reason for that type of collar. If he had to be used in that way, maybe this new master would at least be kind, if not gentle.

“Very well. Jax, was it? Are you half as smart as you are exquisite? Can you read and write, at least? ”

Jax’s breath caught. Did the lord just pay him a compliment? He started to lift his eyes, then jerked them back down. “Um...yes...m’lord...I can do both.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Sorry, your highness. I can both read and write, if it pleases your highness.”

The man seemed to bristle. “‘Lord’ is fine. We don’t want all three of us to end up in chains in a damp dungeon, do we?” The lord reached out and cupped Jax’s face, fitting his fingers to the contours. Jax closed his eyes and prayed. Please find me acceptable so I don’t have to go back to the servant’s quarters. Even if I have to be a sex slave it would be better than that.

The lord leaned down and kissed Jax’s forehead. “Fine, then, let’s return to my rooms and see how this will work.”

Jax kept his head down as he followed the two men, marveling at how they navigated the confusing twists and turns of the maze. How did they not get lost? They left the gardens and made their way up to the lord’s suite of rooms. Along the entire route, the lord paused long enough to greet each person they encountered. Did his new master compliment everyone? Even the homeliest of the servants got a kind word.

At the doors of the suite the lord’s friend bid farewell and headed off. Inside the suite, the lord showed Jax around. He stared at it all, incredulously. The closet was bigger than the shower area for all the slaves in the basement. The toilet and bathing area were huge. Twenty slaves could be housed in the space this single room occupied.

“There is a servants quarters over here so that you don’t have to run down to the basement each night. It will make your life simpler.”

Jax stood stunned. He hadn’t had his own room since he had been stolen away from his home lands eight years earlier. Ever since, he’d worked in the palace as a servant hoping not to catch the eye of a noble and be promoted to personal slave. This noble was different. Now that it had happened, he wasn’t sure if today was a good day or a bad one.

Randall’s POV

The next morning Randall woke alone in his bed. He thought he may want to change that in the future. He rose and went into the bathroom to relieve himself and take a quick bath. Towel wrapped low on his hips, he returned to rummage through his clothing for an outfit. Instead, he found Jax in the center of his room, hands clasped before him and eyes respectfully lowered.

“Sir,” he said, “casual or formal wear for the day?”

Randall closed his eyes and thought about the day ahead. He had no real plans. Perhaps a ride or a prolonged promenade through the vast corridors of the palace, were the extent of his ambitions at present. It was all he was allowed to do, really. He shrugged. “Casual, I guess.”

Jax disappeared into his closet and returned with underclothes, brown trousers, and a green top embroidered in a geometric pattern. He could ride in this outfit, or stalk the halls; perfect. He nodded, smiling, and let the man dress him.

Once dressed, he looked Jax over speculatively. “We need to get you into something...more appropriate. Are those your only clothes?”

The man nodded.

Randall snapped his fingers. “Right. I’ll call for a tailor. I want you in trousers and a tunic. No reason for you to run around the castle half naked;, you have a position now.”

Jax half-raised a hand before lowering it again. “But sir, I have a braided collar.”

Randall gazed at the slave. Jax was everything he found attractive in a male, but he knew the game being played. And the stakes involved. “Jax, my man, you are my personal servant. What I say goes, and I want you dressed in elegant trousers and tunics. Something to bring out your physique and sparkling eyes. Anyone who asks, I’ll wax on about the beauty of my selections. In the end, it’s my choice.”

Jax swallowed hard. His voice was small when he spoke. “So, sir, you do want me for all that this collar represents?”

Randall smiled wickedly. “Absolutely, you are a stunning and delectable figure of a man. However, I can try to control myself enough around you to utilize you for your other attributes.” With that, he turned and headed for the door. Jax followed after a moment spent opening and closing his mouth without speaking.

In the morning room, Randall found Douglas already seated at the table and dropped down across from him. He said over his shoulder to Jax, “A full plate. Eggs, bacon, and whatever pastries they have.”

Douglass smirked at him. “You actually look well put together this morning, sir.”

Randall stifled a growl. “I need to get him better clothes. Servants’ clothes are an embarrassment. He needs trousers and tunics.”

“Maybe tight trousers?”

Randall let the growl out this time. “Games, I tell you.”

“They are good for your image, sir.”

Before Randall could respond, a plate of food appeared in front of him and Jax took up a spot behind his chair. Randall busied himself with the contents of his plate and ignored the chattering of the nobles and courtiers around them.

Presently, the God-King himself entered and sat at the head table. The talking in the room stopped as the king entered. He joined the nobles for breakfast about five times a year. Randall inwardly groaned. Today would have been a good day to sleep in.

Randall was almost done eating and was ready to sneak out when a voice washed over him, making his heart stop and body quiver.

“Lord Bellinger, a moment of your time?”

Douglas grimaced. “When will he get your name right, sir?” His whisper was so low, Randall barely heard it. He chose not to react or respond. To do either was dangerous.

Randall rose and bowed respectfully towards the king, then slowly approached. When he reached the head table, the king’s presence was a palpable thing, like a heavy mantle pressing against his shoulders.

“Sit, young man, and join me.”

Randall forced his hands to be still at his sides, for all that they trembled. He refused to fidget in front of the king. It was a sign of weakness. He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, I’ve already broken my fast.”

The king smiled grimly. “Then have some coffee.”

How could he refuse? Taking in a quavering breath, Randall nodded. A servant swept by and a mug of coffee appeared at a seat near the king. Randall sat.

The king ignored Randall for some time while he ate. Randall sipped his coffee and tried to hide his distaste. It was plain and strong, just the way the king preferred it. Finally, the king blotted his lips with a napkin and the full force of his arctic blue eyes fell upon him. “Young Bringbrag,” he said, “you are old enough to serve as a page.”

Most pages are in their early teens, Randall thought, annoyance flashing through him. The king knows my age; this is just another insult. He stared into his nearly full mug and replied in a carefully even tone. “Sir, I just turned twenty.”

The king smiled broadly, but his eyes remained cold. “Ah, perfect. Lady Lahey is traveling to visit her husband. She leaves tomorrow morning. You will serve as her page.”

Randall sat stock still, letting the king’s words and power flow over and through him. There was nothing to do or say. He could only go to his rooms and prepare for the trip. Lady Lahey’s husband had been sent to Hull as the king’s representative after the king had taken over that land. Though Duke Lahey lived there, his wife preferred to live in a more civilized area. Each quarter, the Lady traveled to Hull to visit her husband; apparently, on this trip, Randall was to be her escort.

The next morning Randall had a carriage packed with trunks for his clothing, weapons, and some money, in case anything piqued his interest. He had decided to bring Jax along. In the meantime, he’d found enough clothing for Jax to wear and had commissioned more outfits.

He found the lady waiting for him beside her carriage.

“Lord Brigander, I see you have packed. You have a servant with you as well, good. He can travel in your carriage. You can join me in mine.”

Randall found himself at a loss. “Lady? I brought some books to read.”

Lady Lahey raised an eyebrow. “You would leave a lady alone on such a long trip?”

Randall sighed inwardly. “Of course not. One as lovely as you should be showered with praise and compliments.” He swept up her hand, bowing over it lavishly, and gave it a kiss.

An hour out of the city proper, the lady turned to Randall. “I expect you to behave on this trip. I know about your wanton ways, and I’ll have none of that. If you need to relieve yourself, you have your man-slave with you. You’ll be with no other people on this trip.”

Randall widened his eyes and placed a hand over his heart. “Why, m’lady, I didn’t know you cared. Were you so taken with me that you felt the need to draw the line?”

Lady Lahey glared at him. “I am a happily married woman!”

Randall couldn’t repress a grin. “Happily married four times a year, that is.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “I could have you killed for such impertinence.”

“Probably, but the king has been after me and mine since he killed my father and enslaved my mother and sisters. So, m’lady, I must suggest: get in line.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I had heard rumors about your family’s demise. However, I was never certain all of it was true.”

Randall gasped in feigned astonishment. “What? You doubt the benevolence of our God-King? The stories of how he destroyed kingdom after kingdom, allowing the youngest children to live, after witnessing the slaughter of all their elders? Why, Lady Lahey, I am impressed with your naivete.”

She sniffed and turned away from him in favor of watching the scenery go by. The rest of the ride passed in silence.

Arriving at the Lahey estates in Hull, they unpacked a week’s worth of luggage. Jax saw to their rooms. Despite Lady Lahey’s dire warning, Randall had no problem finding bodies that were not young Jax’s to warm his bed at night. The men and women of the Lehey estate were just as attracted to Randall’s invitations as those of the king’s palace.

On his final day, the Duke and his wife took a day trip to survey the lands and properties of the estate. Randall had the day to himself and found he wasn’t in the mood for another bedroom romp with the comely and nubile maidservants. He decided to visit a local fair, instead. Jax followed at a demure distance behind him.

Before long, he found a puzzle-box that would be ideal for Douglas, intricate and inlaid with quartz. Once the puzzle was mastered, a prize was found inside. Searching the market, Randall found a ruby ring with matching cufflinks that he placed inside the puzzle box.

He also found a few sets of dress clothes that he admired, and saw Jax eyeing some pieces that he secretly bought as well. Once everything was packaged he sent Jax back to the Lahey Manor with his gifts. He was about to leave himself when something caught his eye.

In a corner stall, off in a dingy area of the market, there was a boy a few years younger than him wearing a dirty shirt and trousers selling exotic animals. There were all manner of creatures: scaley, weepy-eyed pangolins, sleepy-looking iguanas, chattering, frisky monkeys, and colorful, squawking parrots from the jungles of Bhoomi. They were making quite a din. In one large cage, however, a black cat hunkered, silently glaring out at the world with bright green eyes like emeralds. Its quiet defiance struck a chord in Randall.

He approached the stall. “Young man, how much for the black cat?” He gestured at the cage, trying not to look too eager.

The youth eyed him. Close up, his face was filthy enough; it matched his clothing. A sparkle kindled in his hazel eyes as he looked Randall up and down, no doubt calculating the amount of coin in his purse based on his attire.

“Well, m’lord, she’s a unique cat. A jaguar cub. She’ll grow up big and strong. She’ll protect you, m’lord. This one’s matta died, so she needs lotsa care. H’dred gold”

Randall’s eyes narrowed. “That’s interesting. One hundred gold pieces for me to be the nurse maid of a baby cat, you say. Sir, you are obviously prettier than you are smart.”

The boy’s eyes widened and his mouth moved as he tried to suss out what was being said. Randall began to turn away. “Wait, m’lord. Wat wer I thinkin. Twenta, I meant twenta gold.”

Randall huffed and shook his head. “Young sir. I know not who you think I am. I am merely a page serving the lord’s lady at the local estate.” He shrugged. “I have but these two gold pieces and nothing more.” Another shrug.

The kid’s breath hitched as he saw his prize. “Wella, m’dad woulda beat me if I sold his prize cat for dat.” It was the kid's turn to shrug and look sad. “If only ya had ten.”

Randall stared down in his hand shocked. “Well look at that, I have five. I’m not sure how that happened, but I know that that is the limit.”

The youth’s face looked pained, but he nodded and handed over the cage.

Randall headed back to the estate feeling thrilled at his triumph. The animal was small and would have to be well cared for. He wanted to celebrate with a treat, and his favorite treat was muffins. He wondered if he had all the ingredients he needed to make them if he snuck to the kitchens.

As he walked the path to the estate, he caught up to Jax. The slave stared at the cage. “Sir, is that a cat?”

“Why, yes, it is my new pet.”

Jax nodded, but he still looked perplexed. “And sir, what were you mumbling about muffins?”

Randall thought fast; he couldn’t let anyone know about his penchant for baking. Such knowledge could completely ruin his image as a foolish, sex-obsessed fop. He looked at Jax, and then looked at his new cat. With a broad smile, he replied, “Why Jax, Muffin is her name, of course!”