The caregivers in the infirmary slowly and patiently nursed me back to health. When I had arrived at the infirmary, I was feverish and extremely weak. At first I had difficulty keeping down liquids, let alone solids, but there must have been healing properties in the liquids because soon I was able to eat a bit of solid food as well, though it was little more than mush.
The day after I arrived in the infirmary, the caregivers made me stand and walk a few steps with their support. I was very weak and dizzy. Each day, however, they did the same, and in time I was able to walk a little in the corridor.
Zwahe visited me every day and stayed with me for hours. I slept a great deal as he watched over me, washing my face with cool water until the fever gradually subsided.
There came a day when I was able to sit up in a chair and talk with Zwahe. The prince had brought the shatranji board. The game frustrated me because each time I tried to move a piece my hand shook uncontrollably. We took a long time over the game, talking quietly and simply enjoying each other’s company.
Each day we played the game, and each day I grew stronger. One day, one of the caregivers said to the prince, “Your slave grows stronger, but he would mend much faster if he could swim. It is too far for him to walk to the river outside the palace, but do you think you could arrange for people to carry him?”
“I can do better than that.” Zwahe left the infirmary and went to his father. He told his father about my recovery and my need to swim, asking if I could swim in the palace pool.
“You know it is forbidden for slaves to swim in the pool. I can’t allow it.”
“But you who forbid it could also permit it.”
“The other slaves would believe I was being too soft. They might try to take advantage of me.”
“Not if you issued a special decree saying that Gemji could use the pool only to regain his health.”
“Why do you argue with me?”
“Because I want Gemji to get better, and I think that, privately, you are sorry for what you did and you want him to get better, too.”
The king burst into laughter. “Cantru, how is it that you are able to read my mind so clearly? Do you have special powers?”
“No, Father. But I have always watched you carefully, and I do think I can often know what you are thinking.”
“You are a brash one, my prince. All right, I shall issue the decree. But one of these days, you will push me too far and then you will regret it.”
“Yes, Father,” said the prince bowing. “Thank you, Father.” And with that he carefully bowed his way out of his father’s presence, returned to me, and told me the story.
So it happened that the next day, with the prince’s support, I was able to walk as far as the pool. Zwahe said, “Take your robe off, and I’ll help you get in the water.”
“I can’t take my robe off, Zwahe.” I replied. “You know nakedness is taboo to my people.”
“Do you forget that I have already seen you naked?”
“No, Zwahe. I remember it with shame and embarrassment.”
“Oh, do not be embarrassed, Ammirus. The doors are locked, and it is just you and me.” With that, he removed his own robe and shorts, standing naked before me. “Now, if I can do it, you can do it.”
I stared at what I was seeing. I couldn’t help it. I had never seen a naked boy older than three rainy seasons before. And he was beautiful. His skin was soft and creamy. His body was filling out toward manhood like the statues in his garden. He had a bit of dark hair around his genitals. I watched as his penis began to grow firm and rise, and I felt mine reacting as well. Blushing, I slowly removed my robe. “Do I have to take off the shorts, too?”
He laughed. “I did. Besides, if you don’t, you’ll have to wear wet shorts for the rest of the day. Take them off.”
Sighing, I did as I was told and with his help lowered myself into the water. It was warm and fragrant, and for a time I simply luxuriated in the sensations as Zwahe swam near me. Finally I tried to swim but was unable to hold myself up. Zwahe put an arm under my shoulders and one under my hips and held me.
“Just kick your feet, Ammirus.” I kicked. It was rather a feeble kick, but I was able to do it for a short time. Then Zwahe held me while I moved my arms through the water. I was soon exhausted, so we climbed out of the water and lay on towels talking happily until I felt ready to return to the infirmary.
But that night, as I lay awake, I thought about how wonderful it had been to be held by Zwahe. I could feel his hands gently holding, almost caressing my back. I became aware that I was growing hard, and soon I was relieving my firm organ, using my shorts to clean myself. What does this mean? I wondered. Why would thinking about a boy, even a beautiful, kind, remarkable boy like Zwahe, make me hard? I went to sleep with that question unanswered.
Each day, practicing twice a day with Zwahe, I became a little stronger until at last I was able to return to my own room, healed and healthy.
Each night, I dreamed of Zwahe standing with me naked and holding me. And each night I relieved myself and went to sleep wondering.
The first day we returned to the garden, the prince said to me, “Come. I want to show you something.” I followed him to the door into his private garden. Opening the door he motioned me to enter.
I stood gazing about, taking in all that I saw. The garden was not unlike the one where I usually sat, but it was larger, and the figures in the fountain were of gold. They were statues of three boys, each facing out and seemingly urinating powerfully into the pool. The water pressure must have been much stronger here, for their streams rose way above their heads before descending into the water. I was fascinated, for each stream was a different color ‒ one red, one yellow, one blue. Nearby there was an open space in the walkways, and a cloth pavilion had been erected with benches which were shaded from the sun.
“Ammirus,” said the prince, “from now on I want you to use this garden. I had the pavilion put up so that you could sit here without being burned by the sun. Anytime you want to come here, you will be welcome. I want to share this with you.”
“But I am a slave, Zwahe. This place is not for me.”
“It is now. I have made it so. If others are not happy about it, they can complain to me. I want you to be here, Ammirus.”
So thereafter, I went to the prince’s own garden. One overcast day several weeks later, the prince entered the garden to find me silently dancing on the walkways. I did not see him as he stood quietly watching.
During one of my slow spins I saw him and stopped abruptly. “Don’t stop. Please keep dancing,” he said, but I shook my head, saying I was tired and sat on a bench in the pavilion.
Sitting beside me he said, “Ammirus, I was enchanted seeing you, a pale boy in your light-blue robe moving effortlessly to music which only you heard. The graceful sweeps of your arms, your body bowing and then rising with your face pointed to the sky, your legs moving in complicated, elegant steps. And most striking was the expression of ecstasy on your face.” He looked at me solemnly and continued, “At times you seemed to be pantomiming something, perhaps a hunt, but at other times you seemed to be simply dancing for the joy of the movement. Where did you learn to dance like that, Ammirus? It was beautiful!”
“In my village. We all dance.”
“But there was no music.”
“It was in my head.”
“What was the dance about?”
“Nothing special,” I replied, reluctantly.
“I don’t believe you. Won’t you tell me?” I shook my head. When he asked if I would dance at a banquet, I was horrified and vehemently cried, “No!”
“Why?”
“Because my dancing is private. If I had known you were watching, I wouldn’t have danced.”
“But I enjoyed it. It was beautiful.”
“Still, it is private. Not something I want to share. Please promise me you will never tell your father.” The prince promised, and with that I changed the subject.
And so followed many weeks and months of playing, reading, and companionship. Zwahe continued to call me Ammirus, but I always called him Zwahe.
When I was alone in the garden I frequently danced. However, as soon as the prince appeared and I became aware of him, I stopped. Sometimes I danced in the moonlight, removing my robe and moving just in my shorts. Later Zwahe told me he particularly enjoyed watching me in the moonlight while he hid protected by the shadows. At those times he said that I appeared almost ghostly with my pale skin and hair.
But there was a more serious side to our lives as well. Zwahe, after all, despite the fact that he hated his lessons, had to learn to be a king, and that meant hours of study. He learned about the history of his people; he learned about some of the great philosophers; he learned about science and mathematics; he learned the literature of his people. What his teachers did not know was that he was teaching everything he learned to me, and it is well known that the best way to truly learn something is to teach it to somebody else.
As the days and weeks passed, we grew closer and closer, although I still could never forget that I was but a slave and he was royalty. What I could not understand was that I continued to dream of him at night, and usually he was naked. Could I be falling in love with him? I discarded the idea as preposterous. Boys did not love boys. Yet, somehow, I could not stop thinking of him, and the only times I was truly happy were when we were together.