He must have fallen asleep, for when he opened his eyes they were
crusted shut by dried tears. He groaned. Why was he fully dressed?
There was something ugly, something unpleasant, crouching just outside
his consciousness .. . what was it? It was as hulking and silent as a
great hayrick casting a shadow on new-reaped fields. Suddenly it
rushed upon him with a cry of triumph.
Your wife has deserted you. Furthermore, your wife never loved you.
He lifted his head. The palace was silent. Riccio must have long
since departed from the rooms above.
But there were places in Edinburgh that never slept. Little places
behind even the wynds, with doors unmarked and plain.
Suddenly he felt overwhelmingly lusty and desirous of a woman. All
women were alike in the dark, he had heard it claimed. And it was so!
Yes, it was!
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His new woollen tights
pulled pleasingly over his knees.
Why, I need not even attire myself, he thought. I am prepared
already.
His feet touched the floor and he padded quietly to the lit candle
flickering on his writing desk.
I think I will invite Riccio to join me, he thought. Perhaps he will
say something to allay all this. Perhaps there is some explanation.
Perhaps it is not true.. ..
Perhaps it is not true. At that thought, his heart leapt up.
He took his candle and made his way along the gallery to the rooms of
Riccio. He knocked softly.
There was a stirring within, a shuffling. Surely Mary was not in there
with him?
I am the King, he told himself. I may enter where I will. He turned
the handle this one was unlocked and strode in.
Riccio sat up in bed, gasping.
Robbers, thought Darnley. He thinks I am a robber. What a jest he is
the robber!
"Good Lord D Your Majesty what troubles you?" Riccio sputtered.
Darnley thrust the candle directly in his face. It was lined and
weary. The hair was lank and greasy. That made it all the worse.
"Nothing troubles me," he said lightly. "I have a mind to sample some
rather unorthodox offerings in certain quarters of Edinburgh, and I
thought a companion would be a jolly thing."
"Oh." Riccio lay back on his pillows. He looked exhausted. An old
man should not involve himself in what he was evidently involving
himself. "I must beg to excuse myself," he finally said.
"Nay, that you must not!" said Damley, yanking on the neck of his
nightshirt. "You must accompany me. I refuse to go alone! And I am,
after all, your King!"
Riccio roused himself and left the bed. Even in his embroidered
nightshirt he was a comical under ordinary circumstances sight. Now he
was just disgusting.
"You must excuse me for a moment," he said, retiring to a screened
alcove to dress.
Was his member red and raw from its recent employment? As he tucked it
away, did he pat it and relive each moment?
"I am ready," he finally said, emerging.
"Good," Darnley replied.
They set out silently, Darnley pulling the sleep-clumsy Riccio along
the palace corridor and then out into the fresh air. He stumbled on
the cobblestones and Darnley jerked him up.
"Wake up!" he hissed. "You must be alert for what will follow!"
So Riccio was exhausted from all his lovemaking? What clearer proof?
Darnley knew a side gate that led them out, avoiding the guards and
their torches. It took them around the south side of the palace, and
then along dark alleyways and narrow wynds where moonlight never
penetrated. All was dark; there were no lanterns left burning, and no
lamps still flickering inside any rooms as they passed. It was the
very deepest, stillest time of night, with no sound except for the
scurrying of rodents disturbed at their passage.
The stone houses seemed to radiate the cold, and soon Darnley was
shivering even inside his wool mantle.
"Turn here," he told Riccio, and around a corner the faint sound of
voices could be heard. And then he was knocking softly on a door, and
it was opened by a woman who had obviously been already awake. Yet the
room behind her was too dimly lighted for honest work.
"I seek Letitia," Darnley said. Now his voice was thick with
excitement.
The woman looked at Darnley. Suddenly she realized who he was: the
King. She reached out and stroked his cheek.
"So fine a skin," she said in a low voice. "I will give you to no
other but me." She led him into a small bedroom, after instructing
someone else to take Riccio. There was nothing in the room but a
gigantic bed.
"Come." She pulled him after her, drawing him up into the bed as if by
suction. She lay down and held out her arms to him.
She seemed eager to touch him, kiss him. If her desire was feigned, it
was impossible to detect. It seemed more real than anything his mother
had offered him in childhood or Mary had offered him in marriage.
And it was true ... all women were the same in the dark.. .. She felt
the same as his wife.... Afterward, she did not pull away or talk of
politics or duties. Instead, she fondled him. To what purpose? He
could not understand it. Then she whispered, "I think our pleasure
could be increased ninefold if it were widened to be threefold."
"Do you mean ?"
"Wait and see," she said, rising expertly. She rang a bell, and a
servant appeared at the door. She whispered something and the door
closed.
"Now," she said, handing him a huge goblet of wine. "Refresh
yourself."
Soon the door creaked open. Riccio looked in.
"Is this not an unusual dish?" the woman whispered. "Do with him what
you will."
"Ah, Riccio, my friend," murmured Darnley. "Pray join me." His voice
was slurred with the wine.
Hesitantly, Riccio approached the bed.
"We are eager for you," Darnley said.
Riccio looked sick. Obediently he climbed up into the bed.
The woman began deftly removing his clothes. When she got to the
breeches, she nodded to Darnley.
Darnley unlaced the front of them carefully, drawing each thong out of
its eyelet in a long, slow motion. The V-shaped opening grew wider.
Underneath lay an undergarment of silk. Darnley slid off the breeches.
The silken drawers yet remained.
Under there .. . under there ... he thought, lies that which my Queen
prefers to mine. He whisked them off and then stared: the member was
completely hidden under a bush of wiry hair that called to mind the
brooms of peasant women. Nothing was stirring there.
"I just finished," said Riccio apologetically.
"That is no matter," the madam said. "That part of you we require is
virgin yet. At least, so far this evening." She motioned for him to
roll over. He looked frightened.
"It is nothing to be feared," she assured him, caressing his buttocks
as he obeyed and turned on his stomach. She spread the sides of his
muscular buttocks. "Nay, do not tense up. Then it will be painful."
She turned to Darnley. "Is it not alluring? So rounded, so perfectly
sculpted ... it will feel different, of course. But just as beer
tastes different from wine. They both afford a buzz in the head, and
many a man drinks both and feels the better for it.... There, now ... I
can tell the thought excites you."
She gave a knowing glance at his privates, where his member was
stirring again, like a man who has been knocked about the head and
then, after some grovelling, regains his feet.
Yes, it excited him, but not for the reasons she thought. It excited
him to think of violating the man who had stolen his wife, of forcing
him to do acts that were obscene to him, of humiliating him.. ..
"Yes. It does," he murmured.
"But there's more to it than that you should take your pleasure
directly of him," she said. "I too have desires, and if I lie a
certain way they can be fulfilled. Everyone wants a change, and you
and I have already tried one thing. So I think I will require of
Master Davie that is your name, is it not? that he perform the most
difficult role. He must thrust even while being thrust into. From
you, sweet prince, I shall only require a supple and loving tongue. But
first I must see you settled one upon another."
Smiling, she arranged Darnley over Riccio, and then, upon a signal,
pushed Darnley down.
Darnley felt the hatred and fear from Riccio, but that made the
pleasure all the more intense. He wanted to abuse him, to tear his
insides, to shame him. When he heard Riccio stifle a cry of pain, he
felt victory. The little Italian went rigid.
"I told you, relax," said the woman.
"Ahhh " Riccio's voice was edged with pain.
Darnley felt Riccio will himself to relax, but it made little
difference. They were not made to fit together.
All the better, thought Darnley.
He cruelly punished the little man, using him as roughly and meanly as
he could. He could feel the pain he was inflicting, even as he worked
mechanically to bring pleasure to the woman with his mouth. She gave
groans and grindings of pleasure, but Riccio was silent.
Darnley continued to work Riccio long after the woman had pulled away
in satisfaction. Evidently Riccio had managed to perform his duty
there, for she lay limp, with a half-smile on her face. But his stubby
little fingers were grasping the pillow and his jaw was clenched as
Darnley went farther and farther inside his body.
"For Jesus' sake, stop," he finally begged.
"Nay, I have had scant pleasure yet," Darnley insisted, thrusting
harder.
Riccio cried out.
Then Darnley felt a spasm coming over him, but it was different from
anything else he had ever experienced. It was one quarter pure hatred,
one quarter curiosity, one quarter revenge and only one quarter
physical. He cried out in triumph, a high, shrill shriek. Then he
collapsed on Riccio.
Only as he separated from him did he see the bright blood on himself.
So that was what was so slippery, he thought. It was not the oil of
passion .. . but of course, that would be impossible.
Riccio was crying.
"You didn't like it?" the woman was saying, sounding surprised. "Some
men actually prefer it. I am sorry .. . but there is salve that will
help ease the pain...."
Riccio flung himself off the bed, gathered up his clothes. The red on
his buttocks made a comical sight.
"You are evil," he said to Darnley. "You will regret this day."
"Oh, is it day?" sneered Darnley. "I thought it was night."
The woman lifted the curtain at the window and peeked out. "Daybreak.
The changing between day and night."
Riccio left.