Metamorphoses

II

Maxim II Elphberg, pious and steadfast king of Rothenia, swore under his breath as his little brother, his royal highness, Prince Leopold of Radelngrad, moved a stack of red plastic counters from Alaska to Kamchatka. The prince was jubilant. ‘Who’s the red Elphberg, Maxxie?’ he crowed.

The boy king gave a gracious and self-deprecating smile. ‘You and dad really get into Risk, doanchya, Leo. I don’t know anyone more competitive than you two.’

‘Oh yeah? Did you ever play Daimey Macavoy?’

Maxim laughed. ‘I can still remember the swearing when he beat Dad that time. You’d think a Medwardine boy like Dad would have learned how to lose gracefully.’

‘Nah. He was only there for the sixth form, he must have missed those lessons.’

Maxim giggled. ‘It’ll be your turn next month, little bro. You’re gonna be in Temple House, like me. Mom’s delighted, that means you can use my old ties and sports gear.’

Leo tssked. ‘Come on. It’s not as if we couldn’t afford new.’

‘I think Mom likes to pretend we’re just like any other family, which is pushing things more than a bit.’

Leo scoffed and giggled. ‘Queen Harriet of Rothenia. The suburban mom. Mind you, she did like chatting with the other moms at the International School gate when she came to pick me up.’

‘Not that they were your usual suburban moms, either. So are you ready for Medwardine, Leo?’

‘Yeah. Dad, Uncles Henry, Ed and Davey were all boys there. They liked it and I’d like to make friends like they did, and like you did too. You’ve been teaching me cricket and rugby, and I know English pretty good. And I don’t have a Rothenian accent, either.’

‘Dad told you about nicknames in his talk, did he?’

Leo grinned. ‘Yeah. it’s a ritual amongst English boys. They award you honorary names, names which reflect where you are in the pecking order. Dad said they called him “Broody Rudi” cos of his temper. But that was better than what they called Uncle Henry.’

Maxie sniggered. ‘He was hopeless in cricket, so they called him “Outfield”, which was the only safe place to put him, and even there he would crap it up.’

‘I bet I know what they call you. It’s “Maxxie” isn’t it. Has to be. The most popular kids get just an affectionate shortening of their given names.’

‘True enough, Leo. I bet I know what you’ll get called. It’ll be your red hair. You’ll be “Ginge”.’

‘What d’you bet, Maxxie?’

‘Your pick from my tuck box, okay? All the boys you’ll meet in Year 7 are gonna be little newbies too. You’ll make friends, just like you did in ISS. And I’ll be there if you have any troubles, big bros in Year 10 are there to be called upon, Leo. Don’t forget.’

‘Big bros who are kings in particular, Maxxie. Anyway I’m a duke, so I won’t have much competition.’

‘There is an earl in Year 9, but that’s by courtesy, cos his dad’s an English duke. But they play that stuff down at Medwardine, where I am Elphberg, M. and you’ll be Elphberg, L., or Elphberg minor But our family are part of Medwardine’s history. There’re pictures of the first King Maxim and old Leopold of Thuringia and Granddad Rassendyll around the place. Our cousin Prince Louis of Carolath-Beuthen is in my year. He outranks you cos he’s a sovereign hereditary prince, though he’s crap at cricket, being German and all. But we share a study room, and he’s a good friend.’

Leo smiled at his brother. ‘Maxxie, there’s no one who isn’t your good friend … well apart from that Malik Rammu, and you sorted him out.’

‘Yeah, I did. But you must not ever tell anyone it was me who did it. It’s super secret, okay?’

‘Why did you tell me then?’

‘Cos you’re my most special friend. My little bro, and I love you. I don’t like keeping secrets from you.’

‘I love you too Maxxie. It’s great we’re gonna be in the same school for the next four years.’

The two boys, one golden-haired and the other red-haired, embraced long and happily.

***

Willem Martinovic stood with his dad in the crowd awaiting the declaration of the results of the elections to the city constituencies of Strelzen. ‘Looks good,’ said Bolslaw.

Willem was curious about his father’s politics. ‘So you vote Unity, Dad? Isn’t that a bit left wing for a lawyer?’

Bolslaw smiled across at his son. ‘What? You think I should vote CDP? I did vote for old Baron Staufer for the Senate. He’s your hero Roman’s dad, isn’t he? Got a lot of business on account of him when he was Burgomeister. He wanted to bulldoze some of the nicest streets in the Neuvemesten and build tower blocks.’

‘What! You argued for his vandalism?’

‘Nope. The other side, son. As a result I’m quite the specialist in conservation law in my firm, and I have a lot of respect for Henry At-vood, who was often the activist in those cases. And we’re about to find out if he’s entering parliament, I think.’

The city returning officer took the podium and a line of hopeful candidates followed him on. The first result was for the 1st, 2nd and 3rd city wards for which Ulrich Trachtenburg was decisively elected once again, as was almost inevitable. But the 4th and 6th city wards were more debatable territory, for it had generally voted conservative since the return of democracy to Rothenia in 1990. Henry Atwood’s vote total was the first announced and at 25,067 there were gasps, and a lot of quick calculations done on the back of envelopes. But when the CDP candidate came in at 20,989 cheers broke out. ‘And I declare Herr Hendrik At-vood to be duly elected as Member of Parliament for the 4th and 6th City Wards of Strelzen.’

‘Wow!’ said Bolo, ‘that’s a turnaround! The wealthiest single constituency in Rothenia has just dumped the CDP. Admittedly it’s for a celebrity candidate, but At-vood has a rock-solid progressive profile. That’s screwed Von Lauern.’

Willem mused on the result. ‘Von Lauern was our MP in Rechtenberg. Mum always voted for him.’

‘Hmm,’ Bolo nodded. ‘He could always count on the military vote, four of his sons were in uniform during the war. But I wonder if even that will save his administration this time. The aftermath of wars favours reformers.’

Willem was impressed at his father’s analysis. He was turning out not to be quite the dumbfuck his mother had continually described him as.

In the meantime the press pack in the hall was besieging the new MP for comments, which, he being Henry Atwood, were evoking a lot of laughter.

A big presence materialised behind Willem’s father. It was Herr Kral, with his son Jules in tow. ‘Hey Bolo! Hi Will! You coming to the after-party? It’s at the White Tree, which was the unofficial At-vood HQ during the campaign. Starcrossed are giving their first onstage performance in years. It’ll be packed.’

Fucking hell. Say yes, Dad! screamed a voice in Will’s head. This was why he had been so easily persuaded to go to Strelzen.

‘We didn’t get any invite,’ Bolo said, diffidently.

‘Where’s the party boy I remember from Eurovision 2005? What a year that was,’ said Herr Kral with a wink at Bolo. ‘You’re not gonna deprive your kid of a chance to let his hair down with his favourite band at a licenced club.’

Jules joined in support, much to Will’s surprise. ‘Yeah, come on Herr Wyzhinski. Dad’s letting me go, and I’m 14 and not even gay.’

Bolo gave a sigh. ‘His mother might kill me if she found out. But okay then.’

***

Quite a tide of revellers forged south from the counting hall at the Raathaus to the Neueplatz, off which was the White Tree, Strelzen’s oldest established gay club. It was still open, even though it was now the early hours of the morning. Alfons and Ernesto, the bar staff, had been notified, it seemed.

Bolo used his bulk to press to the front of the bar, and returned with a beer for his son, and a Coke for Jules, which he handed over with exaggerated civility. ‘Here you go mini-Kral, hope it’s not too strong for your head.’ Will gave a grin. It seemed his father had picked up on the coldness between the two boys.

The two boys gravitated into a corner, where Jules gave a commentary on the local celebrities who had turned up. ‘Woah, fuck!’ he cried at one point, ‘that’s my superhero, Peter Peacher!’

‘Who’s the big blond guy next to him?’

‘That’s his partner, Oskar von Tarlenheim,just made Duke of Husbrau, the chief of staff of King Maxim and soon to be grand vizier of the First Emperor in New Constantinople, so I heard.’

‘You hear a lot, Jules.’

The younger boy shrugged. ‘My little bro Roman is with his kid, Count Piotr, at ISS. He comes round to visit when he’s in Strelzen, though mostly he lives out in Modenehem with his aunt.’

‘But his dad’s gay. So the kid was the result of a rent-a-womb deal?’

‘Him and his sister, yeah. Piotr’s a really good kid.’

‘Good news for the golddiggers of the world in due course. Not just heir to a dukedom but to a major chunk of the Peacher fortune.’

‘Odds are his marriage will be a major international event, for sure. But it could yet get to be even more prestigious. His dad is currently on the slate for the vacant throne of Poland. The Polish Sejm is very keen on having an Elphberg-Peacher related king. The Hungarian royal family married their Crown Prince off to a Peacher heir, Sunni Mae Macavoy, remember? Odds are that Poland will go to General Tomas von Bernenstejne, Prince of Orbeck, King Maxim’s close cousin.’

Will was not that interested in the running commentary Jules Kral was offering him. He was more interested in calculating if he (and Johan Toblescu) might be able to enjoy the White Tree under their own steam, though neither was yet eighteen. It didn’t seem like a cruisy sort of dive, though it was difficult to tell with its current clientele, most of whom could not be gay.

However that speculation was driven from his head when Jules poked his arm and pointed. ‘There. That couple in the corner.’

Will looked and saw a dark haired man in his forties, his hair greying, in a smart suit. His arm was being held by a feline-looking slim guy dressed like a model. The two were obviously a couple, though an unlikely one. Jules hissed, ‘That’s Johan’s dad’s boss, Baron Will Vincent.’

‘And the other guy?’

Jules grinned. ‘That’s his partner, Felip Ignacij. Falkefilm. Remember?’

Will looked closer at the two men. So that was the cool porn king of Rothenia. But how could he manage any sort of meeting in the present circumstances, with his dad at his elbow? Dammit.

Will came back into focus when Jules announced ‘It’s Starcrossed!’

Yuli Lucic took the mic. ‘Hey guys! So glad to be here for this celebration. I’ve known Herr At-vood since I was a teen. I used to meet him on Domstrasse Hill outside the Kral giftshop where I was working weekends and he was an Eastnet journalist. I learned to admire his dedication to truth and justice. None more so than when his work cleared my dad of the vicious rumours his enemies had cooked up against him.

‘Now me and Roman’s first hit is a song you’ll all remember. It was called “Nobility” in the English mixes and I wrote it in honour of a good and great friend of ours, but it’ll do also to say what makes our Herr At-vood so special and so much a Rothenian, truly renn Roteniske. Well done sir! We salute you.’

The familiar chords flowed out from Yuli’s keyboard, and his and Roman’s voices were joined in the second chorus by those of the entire club. Will noticed that tears were streaming down Jules’s cheeks. Odd. Will had not taken the kid to be that emotional, but then Jules was a musician and maybe felt the power more than Will did, much though he loved this track.

Famous track followed famous track with each performance pristine, bright and perfect and so the early hours passed in the club in high euphoria. Willem’s dad placed two more bottles of beer in his hands, and he and Bolslaw were both amazed to find the sun rising over Strelzen as they eventually left the White Tree.

‘So tell me about you and Starcrossed, dad,’ Will asked, with evident respect in his voice.

Bolo smiled and led his son into the Mikhelstrasse MacDonalds, which was just opening. ‘Well son,’ he laughed, ‘you might say it all started here, and in the other Strelzen MacDonalds outlets. That’s where the teens of Sudmesten all hung out back in the day, though not your mum. She lived for kickboxing, MMA, jogging and other energetic pursuits. Me, not so much.’

Will smiled back. ‘I was a bit of a disappointment to her in that respect, I guess. I didn’t make any school team back in Rechtenberg, other than football.’

‘I imagine she blamed my genetic inheritance, son, not you. Anyway, I can recommend the bargain breakfast meal. You want coffee or juice?’

Father and son sat together companionably as the world woke up outside the plate glass of the cafeteria. Willem was congratulating himself on starting a positive new relationship with the man opposite him when his handij rang. He stared at the call number and gave a little gasp. His father looked a query at him. ‘Mum!’ Will hissed in reply.

***

Will and Johan met up at the Toblescu house that afternoon. Johan was dozy after last night’s events and in the end they both got naked and cuddled together under his duvet, alternately dozing and enjoying a variety of sexual experiments. They began to come round after Will had found sufficient energy to expend on a serious hammering of the smaller boy’s prostate that caused Johan to ejaculate into the bedsheet under his belly.

Johan grinned into Will’s face as they came down off their orgasmic highs. ‘That ticked a lot of boxes, Will.’

‘I still got a few unticked,’ Will grinned back. ‘One will need a shower cabinet.’

‘Don’t wanna know, babe. Sounds messy. So … your mum is coming back to Strelzen early?’

Will nodded and frowned. ‘Just when I was getting to know Bolo, and quite liking what I was learning about my dad. And what I really like is he just accepts me as an adult, and lets me get on with my own stuff. My mum would not allow what we’re doing here. There would be a curfew.’

‘But she’s not got a house in Strelzen, and she won’t stay with your dad, so how is it gonna work?’

Willem grimaced. ‘Her oldest mate is Della Kral, Jules’s mum. She’s begged a bed in their house in Strelsenern Anhöhen, and I’ll be expected to turn up there, unless Dad asserts himself and keeps me at his place. But I don’t think he’s up for the fight, sod it.’

Johan laughed. ‘Then you have to assert yourself, Will. Tell her you’re staying with your dad. Be the adult your dad apparently accepts you as.’

‘You’ve not met my mum,’ Willem snarled. ‘She faced down 10,000 Death commandos at Ostberg. She literally takes no prisoners.’

‘Then you’d better accelerate your plans to harvest a large income outa your rather beautiful bod. Time to sort out your Falkefilm strategy. My desktop is yours.’

With a grin, Willem untangled himself from Johan and settled himself as the boy’s desktop, still naked. ‘There’s online forms to fill out for Falkefilm Models. Okay. Here goes. Name: entered. First question. Fuck. Date of Birth.’

‘Be honest,’ laughed Johan. ‘you’re seventeen. I suppose they’ll not be interested in your bod till you’re eighteen.’

‘Actually it doesn’t say you have to be eighteen. Maybe for the porn, but not necessarily so for the modelling business. And I do have a modelling portfolio from when I was a kid. It’s on my flash drive, wanna see?’

‘What d’ya think I am, a pedo? Gaah!’

‘It’s just me in kid’s designer clothes we couldn’t actually afford, but you got to keep as part of the fee. I was the best-dressed schoolkid in Rechtenberg. The girls loved me.’

Willem applied himself to the form and filled it in rapidly, giving his father’s flat as contact mail address. ‘Done, Johan. And I press SEND. There you go!’

Johan applauded from the bed. ‘Can you see if the AllmyFans site is up yet?’

‘You’re interested in that?’

‘Sure. It gets me hard’.

Will checked. ‘Nada. Your dick is gonna be disappointed.’

Johan gave him an appraising look. ‘Look, Will. I have a great digital camera, with a tripod. I so want your cock in me again. Let’s make amateur porn. How ‘bout it?’

Will’s grin almost split his face. ‘Yeah! Might as well get some material ready to post if we go down that hole. But I thought you were against your body featuring in an account?’

‘I’ll wear a ski mask, that’ll preserve my identity, if not my modesty.’

‘Get set up then, Johan. I’m ready and waiting. Just need to fix my hair.’

***

When Will returned to his father’s flat in the Third District he found it empty. There was not much that looked safe to scavenge in the fridge, but he found a big multipack of crisps in the bread bin and there was a can of coke in his backpack. He checked his handij to find a dozen texts from his mum, the latest four demanding he call her back. With an internal gulp, he complied.

‘Willem!’ came the piercing sound whose tone he classified as ‘parade ground dressing-down’, and which promised no good result.

‘Hi Mum!’

‘It took you long enough to get back to me.’

Will tried distraction to head her off. ‘Where are you now?’

‘Somewhere in the kingdom of Bulgaria, heading by train to Sofia. If we can make the connections, I should be in Strelzen in a couple of days.’

‘Why are you coming back so early, mum? Did you get in trouble?’

‘You cheeky monkey,’ his mother said with a tinge of indulgence, from which Will concluded he was not entirely in the shit, as yet. ‘The mission changed, that’s all. I’m chaperoning a VIP to a conference in the Residenz. I may need your help there too.’

This was new. His mother needed his help with her job? ‘What, mum?’ he had to ask.

‘I’ll tell you when I get there. Now then, get yourself up to Auntie Della’s place by the day after tomorrow. The Krals are expecting you.’

‘Er … mum, if it’s all the same, I’d rather stay with dad.’

A long silence followed, increasingly ominous as it was drawn out. ‘You want to stay with your father?’

‘He’s been great, mum, and I’m only just getting to know him. Also I really don’t get on with that Jules Kral.’

‘Jules? He’s a little darling. How can you not get on with that boy? He calls me Auntie Krista. Oh my God, you didn’t try it on with him, did you? I knew your homosexuality would get you into trouble.’

‘Mum! Don’t be sick! The kid’s only fourteen. It would be child abuse. And he’s not gay in any case.’

‘Do as you’re told, Willem Martinovic.’

Will took a deep breath. The time had at last come to prove he had balls between his legs, nonetheless it was with a sense of real dread that he said. ‘No mum. I’m staying with my dad.’ He hung up.

***

‘And you told her straight you would rather stay with me?’ Bolo’s face was a mixture of impressed, and something else which Will could not identify.

‘Yeah. You’re my dad and it feels right to be here.’

Bolo grinned. ‘There will be consequences, you realise.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s a given.’

‘For us both.’

‘Really? Why does she hate you so much, dad?’

Bolo gave his son a considering look. ‘Son, you’re a good lad, and not innocent in the ways of the world, so I’ll tell you some things you should keep to yourself. That Eurovision year was chaotic for me, for Willemczu Kral and his Della, for Yuli and Romesczu, and more besides. A lot of it was about sex. Willemczu and Yuli were more than just friends in those days, you need to know. And it was the same with your mum and Della. That month in Spain was full of sexual adventuring. By the end of it your mum was a definite lesbian by preference, but Della was not, and she was already taken.’

There was a silence as Bolo retreated inside himself for a while, and as his son accommodated the stunning revelation that his mum — the apparently straightest woman he had ever met — was also a queer. Eventually Will had to ask. ‘So if mum was a lesbian, how did you get her pregnant with me?’

His father gave a rather odd half-smile. ‘I’ve thought a lot about that. You’re gay so maybe it’ll make more sense to you. Society lands expectations on you, none more so than for women. Also there’s a degree of self-hate for being so obviously different in a society that rewards conformity.’

‘What? She fucked you cos she hated herself … Dad!! You’re worth more than that!’

Bolo reached over to ruffle his son’s hair. ‘You’re a nice kid, Will, and I’m proud of you. Your mum however may have been punishing herself for her sexuality. Her career may be a variant on that. She has shoe-horned herself into a role where conventionality is rewarded, but I know quite how unconventional she can be. Strangely, that may explain her brilliance as a soldier. She’ll be a general before you’re twenty, and you may not believe me when I say it, but I’m cheering her all the way!’

‘Dad! You still love mum?’

‘You read me, Will. Yes. The tragedy of my life, but I love your mum, and she knows it, which is how she can manipulate me so easily, and why I even accepted her excluding me from your life, my boy.’ Tears were glistening in his father’s eyes now. ‘Don’t think for one moment that I did not want to be there for you.’

By now Will was in his father’s arms and in tears too. Eventually he said. ‘Yet more reason I want to stay here with you, dad. But please, can we do some shopping and will you let me sort this place out? And … er … what about an allowance?’

Bolo laughed. ‘You really are your mother’s son, too.’

***

Afran, prince of the Kurds, stared out of the carriage window as it rattled its way across Bulgaria. He occasionally eyed Colonel Martinovica as she worked across the table from him. She was a fascinating woman, so very like his own mum, and yet so different in her Rothenian way.

‘Tell me colonel,’ Afran asked, ‘what happens when the train reaches the Iron Gates?’

The woman smiled at him. ‘It’s there that we’ll shift to one of the vessels of what the Marshal Prince of Elphberg likes to call the Rothenian Navy.’

‘Ah,’ smiled Afran, ‘he was being humorous. Rothenia being a landlocked country.’

‘Quite so, your highness. One of my most challenging tasks last year was to recreate effective channels of communication in the Balkans after the retreat of the Black Horde. They left little but devastation behind as you’ll be aware, and the governments of Hungary and Serbia took a long time to regain effective control. So I concentrated my efforts on the navigable Danube which allowed direct and economic passage from Strelzen as far as Romania and Bulgaria. We built a big Rothenian army logistics base just upriver of the Iron Gates. I had our regiment of railway engineers rebuilding a double-track main line south and east to Istanbul allowing military stores and personnel a swift passage to the front line units in Anatolia, where the Horde made its last stand.’

Afran nodded. ‘My mum says you made the final purge of the Horde possible, a year earlier than otherwise. So we catch a riverboat at the Iron Gates and have a leisurely voyage upriver to the Starel Gap and then to Strelzen. What then?’

‘All the interested parties for the conference are on this train. We’ll have a week to discuss things and hopefully find a solution for the Anatolian problem. King Maxim will preside with the assistance of his cousin, Princess Elenja of Tarlenheim, the Princess Royal of Rothenia.’

‘And what do you expect of me, colonel?’

‘Well, highness, you are there to represent the Kurdish view of any solution. You know your mother’s mind better than anyone. The important thing is that you speak up when the need arises. Is that what worries you?’

Afran smiled. ‘You have a son my age, do you not colonel?’

‘Yes highness, I do. Why do you ask?’

‘Your last remark seemed to arise from an experience with late adolescent boys who are nervous about their capacities.’

Colonel Martinovica sighed audibly. ‘You overheard my call with Willem? He is a boy without much direction in life, and a lot of self-doubt. But not comparable with you, sir. I hope you have a chance to meet him. You might be good for him.’

Afran beamed. ‘I would like that a lot. I need a guide to Strelzen. My mother expects me to stay on after the conference and she is suggesting I register at one of your great universities for a degree course to begin in September. She is negotiating a place with the Technische Universität, I believe. I am to be interviewed there for a place on one of several courses she thinks may be helpful.’

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