Anonymous

Recollections of a Reluctant Gelder

The boys plan a dinner party to introduce Ephraim and find out if "he" can pass as a boy before school resumes. Two other Noble boys are invited, but dinner goes a bit wrong, leading to an accident in the barn

So where were we? Right – the year we were almost twelve and Miss Elise became a boy!

You're probably wondering about Elise, also known as 'Ephraim', in her/his new role? Recall that we'd all been shocked by the notion of a girl dressing up as, getting a haircut, and pretending to be a boy. All of us, that is, except Armand. Apparently, this was a common practice in his homeland for men who had no sons. Elise's father, it seemed, was the exact opposite of Wolfram's father – while the latter seemed to be able to sire only boys, the former seemed able to sire only girls.

This presented a bit of a problem for Ephraim under the laws of the day.

While girls like Elise could inherit their father's holdings, when there was no son, the law required that she be married. This was so that she would have a man to manage their affairs and conduct business and the like, as everyone knew that women were certainly not suited to make such decisions. The law might have had good intentions when it was written, but what it essentially did was take all of a girl's holdings and give them away to the man who agreed to marry her. A woman coming into a great deal of money would, technically, never come into any of it, unless her husband saw fit to let her. It was the new husband who would come into the inheritance, and well-to-do ladies with no brothers never had a shortage of suitors.

To further complicate matters, not that it mattered, but adopted sons could also inherit. As I've said before, though, adoption was usually a matter of pride. A man with no sons who adopted for the sake of inheritance was usually talked about in an unfavorable manner. 'He's got as many sons as a eunuch!' was a common insult. I suppose that might have been why Elise's and Wolfram's fathers didn't just do a baby-swap to make things easier.

"You're not the only one who has some sway with the magistrate," Ephraim was telling us, not long after the Harvest Festival, and before school took up again, "Father's been arranging for me – Ephraim, that is – to stay on permanently."

We all just looked at 'him' as if he'd lost his mind. Never mind the fact that Ephraim had another proper haircut, and a new suit of Noble boy's clothing. I've said it before, but Ephraim really did make a more convincing boy than Wolfram did.

It was Bertrand who pointed out the obvious. "You realize that we go to school naked, don't you, Ephraim? And what about when you, uhm, start to…become a lady?" He gestured at his chest with his open hands, as if lifting something.

"Oh, Bertie!" Ephraim rolled his eyes, "We all know what breasts are!"

"And boys don't go around talking about breasts in public!" Bertrand added, blushing a bit, and rubbing his upper arm where he'd just been punched. "At least you've got that much right!" He complained.

"He's right about school, though," I reminded them all, just imagining how Manuel and the rest of them might react to the idea of a girl dressed as a boy among us. "I don't think the idea of passing you off as one of Armand's harem eunuchs would work."

"Not quite," Wolfram agreed, sighing, "You're in the same boat, as they say, that I was."

Bertrand thought about it. "It might work for a bit, Ephraim, but when you have to become Elise again, I suppose that Andy here could marry you. You can trust us with your holdings!" He smiled.

"That's a marvelous idea!" Ephraim punched me next. I think he liked that. "What do you mean, 'us'?"

"We're a package deal," Bertrand shrugged.

"You certainly look enough alike," Wolfram pointed out, which was a bit funny, as Wolfram stuck out like a 3; Barbarian, for lack of a better word. His pale skin and blond hair, along with his bluish-gray eyes, always got him plenty of looks. Him and Eryk both. Blonds and redheads weren't that common, after all.

"But until the wedding day," Bertrand cut back in, "There's the problem of you going to school. It's going to be gossip, Elise's new brother, a new student. If you're going to be a boy, you have to go to school."

"And going to school means leaving your clothing at the door," I added.

"Which is going to be a problem," Wolfram reminded us.

"Religious objections?" Eryk wondered, "Sorry to interrupt, but your horse is taken care of, sir."

Ephraim laughed at that, giving Eryk a look. Of course, he was older than us, but aside from being a bit taller, certainly didn't look it.

"I overheard," Eryk apologised, "I know there's some religions that don't go for nakedness? You might ask your instructor, Andy."

I doubted that John, our instructor, would go for that. It had been that way for as long as anyone could remember. This was going to require some thought. After all, girls looked a lot different down there than even totally-cut eunuchs.

So what to do in such a case? Ask Armand, of course. Armand knew everything.

"There are religions," he mused, "That prefer total gelding of the priests, but that's obviously out. Now, further east, there's the Jews, but you don't seem Jewish to me."

"We have to pass Ephraim off as a boy, not a eunuch," Wolfram reminded him, "If everyone thinks he's a eunuch, he still can't inherit, or get married later on." He nudged me in the ribs.

"We're not getting married!" I protested.

"Yet," Ephraim grinned.

"If you're not married by sixteen, you'll be an old maid," Eryk reminded us.

"You marry him – her!" I told Bertrand.

"I can't," Bertrand pointed at his gelding scar.

"Me either," Wolfram sighed, "Looks like it's all on you, Andy."

So there we were – if I were to be gelded, I'd be giving up my inheritance, and any prospects at marriage. That, and I now had the ridiculous suggestion of marrying Elise to save her Estate from some strange future suitor – and I'd not even figured out how to get her into school yet. Why couldn't my parents have just had a little brother a few years after they'd had me? Then I could have dumped this whole mess in his lap!

"You just let Armand think it over," Armand told us, "Eunuchs back home have a reputation, sometimes, for being devious! We've even had eunuchs assassinate kings before!" He smiled, "Turn the whole Empire upside-down!"

"We don't want to kill anyone!" I gasped, "We just need to get Ephraim into school!"

Armand laughed.

I didn't think it was funny, as we didn't have much time to come up with a plan. Now that harvest was past, we'd be spending more time in school, as we weren't needed at home so much.

***

The solution came with Armand's suggestion of inviting John, our Instructor, over for dinner just before the start of our winter term. We'd invite Ephraim, perhaps a couple of our classmates as well, after Ephraim had gotten more coaching in "how to act like a boy". To be honest, I think we'd created a monster. Ephraim had learned how to spit, swear, punch, insult, and such – but he still had a few problems with being 'girly'. For one thing, he tended to still walk like a girl.

The big test, though, was whether we could fool our Instructor.

While John took his teaching responsibilities very seriously, and wasn't afraid to swat a Noble arse or two when they needed it, he also had another side to his personality. We hardly ever saw that at school, but when he came visiting, he was almost a different person. I suppose this had something to do with his being a eunuch? Like most, John had been a 'spare son', and gelded when he'd turned eight, for the hopeful advancement of his future career. Most Commoners believed that this was just the right age, and our local Gelder didn't like to cut boys much younger than that.

John had spent some time in the City, we knew. He'd always been an intelligent boy, and his own instructor had suggested his gelding to his family. He'd also been the one to suggest that John would make a good instructor. From then on, John had studied at the best schools, and even spent some time at Court in his earlier life. It had come as a huge surprise to everyone when he had turned down a permanent position in teaching the Nobles, and even some Royals, there. He'd returned to his home Province, he'd once told us, because he just couldn't stand "all the bustle and pomp". He often told us that if you walked around with your nose in the air, you'd fall in a hole.

Of course, as a eunuch, John had neither inherited, nor married. While he drew a salary that allowed him a nice home, he had no family of his own. During one of his lectures on the history of gelding, he claimed that this was a very important feature in why Kings and other important men preferred eunuchs: being separated from their families, and unable to create one of their own, the eunuchs would become entirely devoted to their masters. Given the current laws, I thought, it made sense – what else were the eunuchs supposed to do?

Teaching was the perfect position for someone like John, though. The Council had decided, Father had once told us, a long time ago, on just that point. Our Instructor considered us all his children, and it was customary for him to go from Estate to Estate, visiting, and often spending extended periods over holidays and time off from school with various families. We tended to see more of him that most of our peers did, though, mainly because he liked Bertrand so much. We figured we could use that to our advantage, when it came to Ephraim. After all, it was John's decision to allow Bertrand (being a slave) to attend school with me. Bertrand had been a first, you'll recall, and a real break with tradition. Slaves didn't attend Nobles' school, after all. Bertrand had been the first, and something of a scandal.

That was why, at Armand's suggestion, we invited John to come for dinner. It was just before the start of the winter term, and he'd meet Ephraim and see if we could fool him. After all, John had never spent time with Elise's family; they had no boys, and therefore, no students for John to fuss over. As far as we knew, and from what 'Ephraim' had told us, they'd never even met.

While Father and Mother were always pleased to see John, Grandmother almost always excused herself to her chambers. Not that anyone missed her, as she always had some cutting remark to interrupt with when John would praise Bertrand. She even once had the nerve to accuse our Instructor of favoring Bertrand, simply because they were both eunuchs, and how this was, in her opinion, unfair treatment of me. Father had, of course, been humiliated by her outburst in front of our Instructor and promptly dismissed her.

Oddly enough, Grandmother didn't seem to mind having Wolfram in the house, though, so being a eunuch didn't seem to be the reason for her behaviour. She didn't seem to hate Wolfram, but she certainly hated Bertrand.

"Madame," John had once told her in a scathing, dismissive tone when he'd come to discuss my lack of deportment, "If ever there was a boy what needed to be gelded, in hopes of settling him down to concentrate more on his studies, it is certainly Andreas! No boy in the history of my career has spent more time bent over my knee to receive so much desperately needed discipline! Perhaps if you were to apply that cane of yours to Andreas' backside, as liberally as you attempt to strike Bertrand with it, then the former might not be so much of a headache for me!"

So it was that we planned to invite our Instructor over to meet Ephraim. His parents would be coming as well, and Mother was already preparing the parlour for the ladies. She'd already picked out the perfect wine "to stave off boredom", she claimed, while the men did "whatever it was that you men get up to after dinner." Of course, they all knew about Ephraim as well, and would probably be spying the whole time. I supposed it was something for them to do?

That left us with only the problem of which of the Noble boys to invite. Manuel was a certainty, as his time with us had really changed him. He'd jump at the chance to come visiting. But who else? I couldn't think of anyone that I'd want in my house, but it was Bertrand who decided upon Felix.

"He's the least annoying," Bertrand explained, "And he's not that bad, when his mates aren't around." Wolfram agreed, informing us that, before Bertrand and me, Felix had been the closest thing to a friend that he'd had.

And so those were our choices. Father was all in favour of our having a dinner party to introduce Ephraim, slowly. That, and to show off, I'm sure. While Manuel's family did well enough, and was doing much better, I figured that Father wasn't about to miss the chance to remind Felix's father that their Estate was the smallest and poorest in the area.

I may be getting ahead of myself here, but that was to become a problem for us, too.

***

John arrived a bit early that afternoon, just as the three of us were finishing up trimming Mother's rosebushes at the front of the house. This was no shock to our Instructor, as he saw us naked every day, and I'd been wearing my worker's collar to school. John was fascinated by us, I think, and he often made notes when we'd talk about working. He was fascinated by my attitude towards it, as well as the change that spending time with us had affected in Manuel. He thought he might write a treatise on the subject, comparing us to other typical Noble boys, and then contrasting us with eunuch boys. In fact, John observed our pruning for a bit before he even spoke up, surprising us.

"And how are my favourite students faring?" He asked us.

Just so you know, slaves' aprons really aren't enough protection when you're pruning rosebushes. Bertrand jumped in surprise, uttering a choice word as his booted foot came down on a long thorn.

"You're early, sir!" Wolfram exclaimed, having not seen him, and having just tossed a dead rose cane in that general direction. "Sorry!"

Of course John knew that we'd adopted Wolfram. My new brother was also of interest to John, as Wolfram was the only Noble eunuch in the area. I suppose this made us quite the trio in our Instructor's eyes: the star pupil, the troublemaker, and the most improved. We certainly weren't what John had encountered in the City, where at Court, Noble (and even Royal families) were taking up the practice of routinely gelding their excess sons.

Dieter came to get John's horse. "Finish your work, boys," John said, as he pulled out his notes, "So tell me about this new boy I'll be meeting tonight? Is he a good student?"

And so we told him all about Ephraim, including the fiction of how Elise's father planned to adopt him, being a nephew, due to a 'family tragedy'.

"A grand gesture," John agreed, "This way, despite what other small-minded folk might think of him, both boy and father will benefit in the long run."

"I'm afraid he's much like the lot of them, sir," Bertrand added, "He's spent most of his time indoors, a typical Noble."

"Soft and somewhat 3;?" Wolfram seemed to be looking for a word, "Girly, sir?"

"Effeminate? I see, yes, somewhat like Menas, then?" John made more notes, then shouted at Dieter to come back over when he had a moment. "I should like to evaluate you all, before you clean up," he went on, "Compare you all, see how you're all coming along?"

Just so you know, Menas was another of our classmates. If it wasn't for the fact that we studied in the nude, you'd have never guessed Menas to be a boy, he was so 3; girly, as Wolfram put it.

"Perhaps you'd like to meet Elias and Little John, sir?" I wondered.

"Who are they?"

"Peasants, sir. New slave acquisitions," Bertrand put in, "Younger than us, but Elias, not by much."

Our Instructor's eyebrows went up. The idea of comparing such a variety of boys would keep him entertained for days, I thought. He would have Nobles, one a eunuch and one not, eunuch Commoners like Eryk, and eunuch Peasants like Elias and John. I was sure that we could also round up a Peasant boy or two, ungelded, to further his studies.

Leave it to Bertrand to spoke his wheel, as the saying went: "Sir, I just thought! You could add Manuel, you know, to compare to Andy, here. He'll be here this evening, too. He's working now, spent a lot of time with us. And he's got some Peasant boys working for him, too – some gelded, some not. We're all about the same age, sir, give or take a year or two?"

"And Felix is coming," I added, wondering at all the combinations of class status versus being gelded that one could come up with.

One would have thought that Bertrand had just presented our Instructor with a sack of gold. John made a funny little sound, his eyes went wide, and he scribbled madly at his notes. He turned a new page, muttering to himself about things to look for. I wondered how he might react if he found out that Ephraim was really a girl? Poor fellow might have a fit, I feared!

"Pity you can't find another Noble eunuch, sir," Wolfram sighed, which made him the focus of John's attention at once. Our Instructor pulled out his small measuring stick, giving Wolfram an inquiring look. Of course, we were all accustomed to it. John kept detailed records of all of his students' growth, health, deportment, as well as academic marks to share with the Physician.

"One would never believe you're the oldest," John told him, as Wolfram stripped off his apron to be measured all over. "You're looking very well, boy," he went on, winding a bit of string around Wolfram's bicep and asking him to flex it. He did the same with his neck, waist, thighs, and calves. He examined his hands and feet, noting the callouses and improvement in muscle mass. "Of course, we'll never be as well-muscled as the men," John reminded him, as he moved on to Bertrand, "But then again, we don't have the distractions that they do!" He flipped back a bit in his worn notes. "At your age, there seems to be little difference, which we could attribute to varying growth of the individual, between you all," he observed, then turning his attentions to me.

"We all do the same work, sir," I reminded him, "And eat the same things, together."

"You feed your slaves that well?" John wondered.

"Their food's better than ours, sir," I told him, "I don't much care for all these fancy dishes."

"I think you'll see that Manuel has changed a lot since last term, sir," Bertrand reminded him.

"He's not so soft, sir," I added, as John squeezed my arm. He found my muscle no more firmer than Bertrand's, but somewhat firmer than Wolfram's. He attributed this to time and sickness on Wolfram's part.

Dieter then came strolling up.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" He wondered, standing there in naught but his worker's collar.

"Yes! Dieter, is it? Started off as a Peasant?" John began tossing questions at him, mumbling about how he needed to compare Commoner boys next. "Contract worker now," John noted, "Similar age, same work, same diet. Eunuch, of course, good! May I?" He asked, and Dieter nodded. John leaned in closer to examine the boy's gelding scar. "And what do you think about it?"

"I don't mind it, sir," Dieter answered, "My brother had me gelded young, so I could find better work. I was lucky to meet up with Andy on Gelding Day, sir. I never had it so good as here!"

"He's more raw and wiry than you, Andreas," John informed me, "Could be all those early years as a struggling Peasant, I wonder?" He then looked at Bertrand again, a strange look on his face. "I never noticed that your hair was the same color?" Our Instructor noted, "Given that I'm used to seeing Bertrand bald. And you have the same nose? " he checked his notes again, "Yes, here's the day you showed up with a shaven head," he told me, reading aloud, "Were I not to already know that Bertrand and Andreas, although of identical age, are slave and master, eunuch and not, I confess to assuming that the two of them are brothers, as I have admitted the slave boy to school in an attempt to quell Andreas' continuing disruptive behaviour."

"Sorry, sir," I apologised yet again, before I realised what he'd just said. "You thought we were brothers, sir?"

"I thought you were twins, when Bertrand first came," Wolfram put in.

Bertrand and I both looked at one another. Oddly enough, even though we'd been together since infancy, and had been so upset to learn that we weren't really brothers, it got us to thinking.

"It's not uncommon for a Master to have children by other women," Wolfram reminded us with a sigh, "I should know." He sniffled. "Sorry, sir," he told John.

"Boys like you are prone to it, I've learned," John comforted him, holding out his arms, "When I was a lad, away at that fancy school in the City, more than one of us cried himself to sleep at night over a bad day, bad marks, or homesickness. To say nothing of your recent ordeal, Wolfram." He paused, hugging Wolfram close, "And then we have those like Simon or Charles, who simply find it amusing!" He snorted, "As if their marks don't matter!" John then looked at me.

"Note the look on Andreas' face," He told us, releasing Wolfram to make more notes, "Not being gelded, his reaction to such injustice is anger. Brows creased, jaw set, fists clenched. Bertrand, on the other hand, being a eunuch? More relaxed, shoulders slumped, chin lower, and bottom lip out. I see the same in young Dieter, here? The difference, boys, is – I believe – the subtle variations brought on in behaviour of boys not yet on the cusp of manhood, by the presence of their functioning glands. Andreas already exhibits certain masculine traits, you see."

That came as a shock to me. I'd never stopped to consider that having glands might affect my mind. After all, boys were boys, eunuchs were eunuchs, and men (like Father) were men? I'd never stopped to think about how different John, Armand, and other adult eunuchs were from men like Father – and not just a lack of deep voices or beards.

I suddenly had a bad feeling about Ephraim. 'He' was a girl, after all – could we really hope to train that out of him, even for just a few years?

"May I?" John asked me, and I nodded as he cupped my glands in his soft hand. Other than a small callous from holding a stylus or quill, his hands didn't have the callouses or scarring that mine did. "Still small, close to the body," he noted, as he touched my face, "No sign of early beard fuzz yet, and you'll all note, boys, that your penises (he used the proper term) are all about the same size."

Humiliating as it was, my own prick stiffened a bit at my Instructor's touch. He noted that, too, to my chagrin: my arousal was now immortalized in his notebook.

"Even infants and very small boys sometimes have erections, the stiffening of the penis," John explained. Of course, we all knew that, from watching animals mate. Even a young colt could get an erection long before he was grown. "Eunuchs, however, rarely do. This is yet another difference in responses. I'm sorry, Andreas, it wasn't my intent to embarrass you."

"Mine never gets erect, sir," Wolfram reminded him.

"Me either," Dieter put in.

We were distracted, though, by the arrival of Manuel's coach. We scrambled for our aprons, so as not to upset anyone. Dieter and Eryk ran to see to them, as Manuel's parents greeted John, and our Instructor wondered at the change in Manuel. Even though he was dressed formally, the changes were obvious: he'd cut his hair, he was wearing a worker's collar, and his short tunic revealed the developing muscles of his legs. He was darker, from being outside, and he walked without that silly strut that so many of our peers had. John wondered if he might look him over, and of course, Manuel consented.

"The changes are dramatic," John noted, "Just one harvest season of work?"

"Yes, sir," Manuel nodded, putting his tunic back on, "Is this new boy here yet?"

"He's running late," I told him, as Felix's family pulled up. What's there to say? You've seen one spoiled Noble brat, you've seen them all. Felix was only remarkable in the fact that he wasn't as well dressed, and their coach more worn. He seemed pleased to have been invited, though, as my reputation for not being social was well known. He stared at us for moment.

"Hello," Felix offered, "Sir," he nodded to John, looking around uncertainly. "Are they making you work for your keep now?" He then got up the nerve to ask, noting our collars and aprons.

"You don't work in good clothes," Manuel told him, "You should try it sometime!" He poked Felix in the side, "Take some of that baby fat off of you!"

After a brief greeting with his parents, Felix was measured, but John didn't get far as Ephraim's family coach arrived. Armand came out to greet them with Elias and Little John.

"So this is my new student?" Our Instructor greeted them.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Ephraim greeted him, nodding, just as we'd taught him. We weren't worried about his outward appearance. After all, at our age, you couldn't tell a boy from a eunuch unless you looked under his tunic.

"I'm sorry, sir," I told Ephraim's father, "We ran a bit late, working, and then our Instructor came early. We've not had a chance to clean up yet!"

"Entirely my fault," John waved me off, "I look forward to getting to know you, Ephraim, was it?"

"Yes, sir. Andreas and Bertrand have already told me so much about you, sir!" Ephraim looked hopefully at him. So far, so good. Ephraim's parents, I could tell, were anxious. I shouted for Miss Morgana to come and show them in, as everyone else was busy. I introduced Ephraim to Manuel and Felix, who were more subdued than they would have been, had John not been there.

"Hello," Ephraim greeted them, offering his hand, and for one wild instant, I was afraid that he'd punch one of them in greeting! "It's nice to meet some 3; boys. All my friends are 3; back home."

"I was informed that you'd experienced a recent tragedy, hence your coming here," John nodded, "My sympathies, boy. Of course, I'll need to confer with your uncle before you start school. Anything special that I should know, and that sort of thing."

"Yes, sir," Ephraim nodded back.

"Sir," I cut in, "We've known Ephraim since he came, trying to make him feel at home, make some new friends," I went on, just as we'd rehearsed, "But he's 3;shy, sir."

"Well, of course he's shy!" Manuel told me, "If you lot are the only ones he's met! He must think he's landed in a foreign country, or something!" He laughed, giving me a playful shove. So far, so good.

"Boys," John warned us. "Ephraim, one must expect a few cultural differences when moving," he'd just started to say, when Miss Morgana returned to fetch us.

"I think it's about time someone cleaned up for dinner?" She gave the three of us a look.

We hadn't planned on that. The three of us cleaning up for dinner was going to leave Ephraim alone with our guests, and any number of things could go wrong. We took a really quick bath, threw on some good clothes, and didn't bother with collars but to give them a quick wipe down. "Not the formal purple," I reminded Wolfram, "The good brown one is fine."

"I'm ready," Bertrand shrugged, fixing his short hair and adjusting his now-clean collar.

"I don't think tonight's a good night for me to dine naked," I complained, "I just hope Ephraim hasn't blown it already!"

We were lucky in that respect. We came downstairs to find John chatting with Ephraim's parents, who were busy explaining their 'son's' reservations about nudity.

"Slaves are one thing," Ephraim's father was saying, "But with the boy's religious upbringing, and personal family beliefs, we're afraid it could pose a problem, his attending school. He's had a very reserved, even prudish, upbringing."

We all froze.

"Which would be?" John wondered.

"Zoroastrian," Ephraim offered, "I'm not well versed, though, sir."

"Well," John was clearly shocked, "Cooler weather is upon us, and I do allow the boys cloaks when it's cold. I suppose I will have be on my guard for cheating, should I allow Ephraim to attend class dressed?"

"Does that go for all of us, sir?" Felix spoke up, which got him a cuff to the head from his father for speaking out of turn.

"Given the Zoroastrian view of nudity, I must allow it," John mused, "However, punishments will be most severe, if I find notes in pockets, or such!" He thought about it a bit longer. "And the boy's been through enough of an upset already, without further embarrassing him."

"That was too easy," Wolfram hissed in my ear.

"I know! What's 'Zero-astronomy-ism'?"

"Persian area!" Bertrand fretted, just as our Instructor noticed us.

"There, now, you see? Young Bertrand isn't at all concerned, is he?" John pointed out.

Bertrand bowed. "I'm a slave, sir. I don't own any clothing, but for winter gear."

"You're a slave, and you go to the Nobles' school?" Ephraim played along, just as we'd rehearsed.

"It's my great experiment," John explained, "To see if a slave boy can be taught as well as a Noble. I must say, Bertrand has far, far exceeded my expectations! I'm apt to credit it to his being a eunuch, though. I'd also say, now that his health is recovered, that Wolfram is doing quite well, too." He gave me a look. "Andreas, on the other hand?"

"Thank you, sir," I smiled at him.

"I wasn't finished, boy," John went on, "As I was saying, Andreas could do much better, I think. Given his attitude and mindset, I sometimes think his and Bertrand's roles are reversed. I've noted, since they were first enrolled, that Andreas' first concerns are always of Bertrand."

"Yes, I sometimes tell people that Bertie is my good son," Father laughed. So did everyone else. I didn't mind if they had a laugh at my expense, so long as it kept attention off of Ephraim. I just hoped that John didn't want to measure him any time soon!

As we waited for dinner, our Instructor (being the most important guest) filled everyone in on their sons' performances and what he hoped for in the coming term. He explained the curriculum and his expectations to Ephraim carefully, while we watched. I just hoped that Ephraim had already studied that kind of stuff, or we were going to be in for some long nights of remedial work with Armand. I just hoped he knew what Zero-astronomy-ism was!

As the adults talked, we all moved off to one side to await dinner.

"Too bad Elise couldn't come," Felix sighed, the first thing he'd said since his cuff to the head.

"Why?" Manuel asked.

Felix sighed again, fidgeting. "She's so cute," he admitted. Then he just shrugged. "Thanks for inviting me, Andreas. I didn't mean anything, sorry. I know Elise is your girlfriend. A lump like me doesn't have a chance with a girl like her," he sighed again.

Girlfriend? Great 3; Felix was in love with Elise! Just what we needed.

"So when's the wedding?" Manuel teased me, as we were called to dinner.

"Sit," I told Bertrand, loudly enough for everyone to hear me.

"You let your slave sit at table with you?" Felix wondered. Then he shrugged again. "Oh, well! I would, if I had one." Felix went silent when his father cleared his throat, as everyone else was being seated.

"That's very odd, isn't it, Uncle?" Ephraim played along, "Sorry, Father, I mean?"

"Whichever is easier for you, son," he nodded back, and I wondered what sort of story Elise's parents had concocted for John and the rest of them? Tragedy, we knew. But what kind? That wasn't helping.

"I sometimes think this whole house is odd," Father spoke up.

"I know the feeling, Nigel!" Manuel's father agreed, "Ever since we sent the boy here, Manny's been acting like a slave! He's not taken that silly collar off since!"

"It's benefited him greatly, I can say!" John spoke up, citing his notes, as dinner was served, "I do hope you'll allow the Physician to have a look at Ephraim, so that we can compare notes?" He then added.

I almost choked on my bread. Bertrand pounded me on the back.

"John keeps detailed records of all his boys," Manuel's father explained to Ephraim's surprised parents.

"Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea for Felix, then, spending some time here, like Manuel did?" Felix's father wondered, "I could pay for it, Nigel?"

Great, just what I needed – Felix underfoot. Armand would kill him with work, I thought of the soft boy. Why not just bring the whole bloody school over to work?

"I think we should get together more often," Felix's father went on, "Get Ephraim out and about, to meet more of the locals? He seems very shy, yes?"

Ephraim took that as his queue. "I'm sorry, sir. Children should be seen, not heard, I was taught."

"For girls, yes," Manuel's father agreed, "But I, for one, want to hear about my son's day!"

For ladies, too, I thought. None of the mothers had said a thing. In fact, Miss Morgana was the first lady to say a word as she brought out the roast. "I hope you like it done, sir, those new stones that Mattias put in certainly heat up faster than the old fireplace!"

"It's a bit scorched?" Father wondered, cutting into it.

"Chew harder," Miss Morgana told him, as she turned with a flip of her aprons and fled.

"You see what I have to put up with here?" Father complained dramatically, jokingly.

"There must be something to it," John put in, "You've the toughest boys in school, you know!" He drained his glass and looked around. Bertrand stood up and refilled his wine. Wolfram blushed.

"Just like the meat," Father groused.

"And the best run Estate," Ephraim's father added.

"I 3; I'm afraid I'm not much for sport, sirs," Ephraim said, as John looked to him, "I was never any good at it."

That was going to be another problem, I realized. No matter what Ephraim did, especially as we got older, he was never going to build up like boys did at the onset of manhood. At best, we'd only be able to pass him off as a eunuch, then, which wasn't the plan at all.

"Me neither," Felix mumbled.

"That's because you're coddled too much!" His father told him, as one of the girls brought more wine. It was the hard, red stuff, too. Dinner had just started, and they'd already finished off the first bottle. Given the state of the roast, they were going to need that wine. One wrong comment from Ephraim, and I was going to need that wine 3;

"Isn't that a problem that we should address?" John cut in.

I noticed that Felix was looking like he'd rather be whipped, than have to have dinner with his teacher and parents, much less in front of someone new like Ephraim. I certainly hadn't done Felix a favor by inviting him, it seemed. He looked miserable.

"What do you think, Ephraim?" John then asked him. We all froze in mid-bite.

"Well, I didn't have any brothers, sir," Ephraim shrugged, "So I was raised with girls. I never got to do much, you see, so I think that if you can get out there and do things, then you should, sir! I'd rather follow an Overseer around, maybe help out, than sit inside all day!"

The men seemed to approve of that. They all agreed, loudly. My head was starting to hurt. Felix's father clapped him on the back, nearly shoving the boy down onto his plate. I could have slid down under the table. Wolfram groaned.

"You're a bad influence, already," Father told me.

"What did I do now?" I squeaked.

"Oh, not at all, sir!" Ephraim added, seeing as how the men all seemed to want to hear from him. I'd never seen his father look so proud, though. The poor man finally had a son to show off, feeling what it was like. Never mind the fact that it was all a lie.

Keep in mind that my parents knew of our little charade. It was John and our other two Noble family guests that didn't. They all found it amusing. Between the roast and the tension, I didn't think it was ever going to end. At least no one was letting on in the slightest that they thought that Ephraim was a girl. Like I said, it would have been easier to mistake Wolfram, and even Felix, for girls. I began to think that we might actually get away with this.

Fortunately for us, most of the conversation was between John and the men – especially Ephraim's father. There was talk about the view on adoption, which, remember, wasn't high. No one in attendance seemed to have a problem with it, though. Whether out of being polite or genuine belief, I had no idea. I didn't care. Then again, Father had adopted Wolfram, and no one had a very high opinion of Wolfram's natural father anymore.

"Settle down!" Bertrand whispered to me, giving my leg a sharp kick under the table, "No one's questioning him. We're fine."

"I think we've got John fooled," Wolfram agreed.

"That or he's just tipsy," I groaned. I'd heard that sometimes, eunuchs were prone to various vices (like drinking) since they weren't interested in sex. I'd never seen our Instructor like this, though! The serving girls kept the wine flowing, and the men kept the conversation about this-that-and-the-other flowing. In time, the ladies retired to the parlor. The men (and John) retired to the hall. Us "boys" were dismissed to our own diversions.

"I blame the mothers," I could hear Felix's father saying loudly, and the mothers could probably hear him, too, come to think of it.

"If you need any help, just ask," Manuel's father was saying, "Since you've never had a boy before!"

"What is wrong with you?" Manuel asked me, as we headed for the barn.

"Yes, you're acting very 3; queer, Andreas?" Felix wondered, "I think? Not that I'd know if you were? It wasn't the food was it? Because you should see our cook!"

"No, I think it was me," Ephraim offered, "Andy wanted everything to be just right, and I didn't know what to say to all of them!"

"I'm sorry, Ephraim, it seemed like a good idea," I told him, just glad that it was over, but feeling relieved that no one – not even John – had questioned Ephraim's authenticity. Then again, like Ephraim had said, no one had paid that much attention to us: children were seen, but not heard. Most of the time. I sometimes had a problem with that.

Still, for all intents and purposes, it had worked.

"So what was your father saying to our teacher about you, when we were bathing?" Bertrand asked.

"Hang on, he gets to talk whenever he wants to?" Felix asked, pointing at Bertrand.

"Things are all turned around here," Manuel told him, "It confused me when I first came here to work!" He laughed.

"You have no idea," I groaned. Ephraim punched my arm. "Would you STOP that?!"

"Better than being hit on the glands," Felix said, "I hate this wrestling thing at school. Simeon and Charles think it's funny to pin you down and knee you in the glands!" He looked at Wolfram, then at Bertrand. "I'm still sore! You and Bert are the lucky ones, being eunuchs."

That got my attention!

"That's what you think, until you're actually cut," Wolfram told him, "It's like you're no longer a son. I was almost sent off as an army Page!"

I wondered what they'd think if they knew they were having this conversation in front of a girl?

"Wow!" Felix repeated, as we arrived at the main barn, "This place is huge!"

"Welcome back," Armand greeted Manuel, seeing no adults, and hugging him. I thought Felix might have wet his tunic when Armand confronted him. He took a step back. Armand laughed. "New friend, Andy?"

"Armand, this is Felix," I introduced them.

"Since when do you have guests?" Armand wondered.

"We're trying to get Ephraim introduced, slowly," Bertrand answered.

"I seeee," Armand drawled knowingly. He nodded to Felix. "Well, young Master, we fixed that squeaking axle on your coach, and your horses are rested up, sir." He turned to me. "I smelled the roast," he added.

"You can have the rest of it," I sighed, the wonderful smell of fried potatoes and something fishy still hanging in the air.

"I don't want it!" Armand laughed, "Poor boys!"

"Armand's not the usual slave," Manuel told Felix, who looked confused, and somewhat embarrassed as he was staring at their coach. "What's wrong now?"

"I think it's us?" Bertrand wondered.

"You?" Ephraim laughed.

"You want hugged too?" Armand asked.

"No, it's me. I don't feel good," Felix admitted, "I'm an idiot. I 3; I didn't want to come, Andreas," he finally said, "I know you don't like…anybody, and I thought 3; I don't know what I thought. Maybe you were inviting us to rub my nose in it, about how we're not rich like you, or as tough as you." He looked at Ephraim, "Sorry I said what I did about Elise." He blushed, "It's nice to meet you, Ephraim, I just never know what to say. Please don't tell Elise?" He almost cried, shamed.

Gods, if the boy only knew 3;

I felt awful. I'd never imagined this kind of turnabout. Admittedly, I'd taken some pleasure in having Manuel suffer through his training with us. But the more I'd worked with him and gotten to know him, the more I'd started to like him. I suppose I'd kept all the other Noble boys at arm's length because of the way they'd always treated Bertrand at school. All but for Wolfram, that was, and only because he'd made the first kind overture. I'd never stopped to think, as Felix had said earlier, about how turned-around our lifestyle was. Of course, Manuel understood it now. But I'd never stopped to think that my way of thinking could have upset Felix so. He was confused, and awkward. And he also didn't look well? Gods, had we poisoned him with dinner?

"He's ashamed," Bertrand whispered to me, nodding at the run-down coach and somewhat nag-like horses that Eryk was fussing over, "He thinks you invited him to humiliate him."

"Father can't pay you, Andreas. That was just the wine and his pride talking," Felix mumbled, watching as Eryk went to fetch some tools.

"You want to stay here, Felix?" I had to ask, and for just a second, he looked hopeful. Then he frowned again. "Look, I asked you over 'cause Ephraim's new, and he doesn't know anyone, and -"

"I'm really nervous about school," Ephraim interrupted me, "I don't know much about boys, really – with so many sisters and a father who 3;" He paused, realizing that we didn't know the story yet.

"Sorry about your family," Felix offered, watching as Eryk removed the old shoe on one of Felix's horses. Eryk dodged a kick.

"It's OK, I'll fix it," Eryk told the horse.

"Watch her!" Felix warned him, rubbing his groin.

"Thanks, Felix," Ephraim then punched his arm. For a moment, I was afraid he'd kiss him! Felix rubbed his arm, but he did smile.

"I think I might vomit!" Manuel laughed.

"Probably the roast," Bertrand nodded seriously.

"Felix," I told him, "I'd never do anything like that to any of you. Not even 3; well, maybe Simeon, all right?" We all laughed at that. "It's just that you were all so mean to Bertrand and Wolfram."

"Bad upbringing, I think?" Armand offered, as he and the boys were getting the guests' coaches ready.

"Our few slaves don't have it half this good," Felix said.

"Ours do, now," Manuel nodded. "You really need to spend some time here with Armand, Felix. Your Overseer should too."

"That'd be Father," Felix sighed again, "Not like I need to learn."

"What do you mean?" Manuel asked, "You're the Firstborn? You have to learn?"

Felix shook his head. "I 3; don't wanna inherit. I don't know much."

"Then learn," Eryk told him, "Come here, and I'll show you how to put a horseshoe on!"

Fate.
That's all I can figure. That, or the gods didn't like me?

Felix was telling Eryk how feisty his horse was as they were shoeing her. Eryk was teaching him how to clean the hoof, then as Felix was pecking in the second nail, Maggie the horse kicked him.

Right in the crotch!

Felix went flying back with a startled squeal, landing on the floor and curling up into a ball and sobbing.

"Not 3; the 3; first 3; time 3;" Felix choked it out.

Then Armand was there, getting Felix onto the table and stripped. We held him so Armand could check him.

Felix's pouch was already swelling, and it was turning colors.

"He's bleeding inside!" Armand exclaimed, swearing, "Eryk! Fast horse! Get the Physician! Bertie – get his father!"

Bertrand fled.

"What are you doing with my son?" Felix's father demanded, when they returned, "What is it?" His face paled, "Oh no! Did Maggie kick him again?"

"AGAIN?" I squeaked, "How many times you been hit there, Felix?"

"A lot," Felix gasped.

"Bad shoe," Eryk added.

"You never took him to the Physician?" Armand asked.

"I didn't know he needed to! This is why he isn't allowed to 3;" He paused, glaring at Eryk.

Eryk glared back. "You knew he'd been kicked, and never called the Physician?"

"He never complained! Why wouldn't he tell me, if he were hurt?" Felix's father demanded.

"Because he wants to be gelded, sir," Bertrand then answered for him.

"WHAT?"

"Sir, if I may?" Bertrand nodded to him, "I mean no disrespect, but Felix just told us some things. He thought that we invited him to humiliate him. We didn't, sir. We invited him for Ephraim, because Felix was the friendliest."

"They're the lucky ones, Father," Felix finally said, as Armand was tending Felix's torn pouch.

"What he means, sir," Bertrand went on, when Felix couldn't, "Is that for Felix, gelding is a way out. He doesn't want to inherit. He told us, sir, and I'm sorry. He's terrified of the responsibility and failing you. But if he's gelded, then he's got more opportunities to pursue than an intact Noble Firstborn – a dozen new chances to make you proud of him. Gelding him might be legally wrong, but for Felix, it's the right choice, sir."

"Armand, he's still bleeding!" I repeated, handing him another rag, "We have to stop it!"

"But he's my Firstborn?" Felix's father exclaimed.

"Leave everything to his younger brother, sir," Bertrand nodded, "Sir, why do you think Felix didn't tell you Maggie kicked him before?" Bertrand reminded him. "He hoped it would get him gelded!"

"You stood behind her like that on purpose?" Eryk gasped.

"Is this true?" Felix's father gave him a shake.

Felix nodded.

Gods, I could have fainted! How often did you meet another Noble boy who wanted to be a eunuch, much less one who followed through with a plan to accomplish it? Kicked by his horse? Really? He was that desperate?

"There's just one problem, boys," Armand reminded us, "Gelding a Noble is illegal, unless 3;"

"Armand, he's dying!" I reminded him, "There's no time!"

Felix wept as his father held his hand. "This is madness, son!" The man protested.

"No, sir, it's not," Wolfram assured him.

It was almost more than I could comprehend: You're the lucky ones, he'd said to Bertrand and Wolfram.

"Eryk," I heard myself saying, "Forget fetching the Physician. Heat a knife. Armand, fetch a tie!"

"I can't geld a Noble boy!" Armand told me, "The law 3;"

"The law says we let him die?" I exclaimed, "Fine! Then I'll do it!"

"You'll do what?" Felix's father gasped.

"Save his life, sir," I answered, "He did this to himself!"

I suppose that Felix's father was in shock as we got his son prepared. I warned him that it was going to hurt. Bad.

"I don't wanna die, Andy!" Felix cried, "Make it stop – Please!"

Armand took Felix's father in hand, assuring him that I knew what I was doing. In fact, I did. It was no different than a lamb or pony, other than the swelling.

Bertrand got a gag, as Eryk and Dieter tied Felix down to the table. Wolfram held his hand. I couldn't secure the tie, though.

"Open the pouch first?" Eryk suggested, so we did that.

Blood and worse ran out. Felix screamed again. I'd been right – Felix's glands were torn and seeping. One of the cords was leaking blood like a sluice gate. Felix screamed and bit into his gag as Dieter helped Eryk pull his cords down. I was able to then tie his pouch off, the wounded cord safely under the tie. Eryk handed me the hot knife.

In just a second of reluctance, I remembered every Gelding Day I'd seen.

At least Felix had wanted this 3;

I drew the knife up in one quick slice.

Felix screamed again, and mercifully fainted as the wound burnt closed and his ruined glands fell away into the bowl Bertrand held.

I alone was responsible. I had just gelded my first boy.
This wasn't a lamb.
This wasn't my pony.

This was Felix.

This was a Noble boy.

Accident or not, I knew I'd have to face the Magistrate over it.

I can't describe the feeling I had. All I knew then was that something inside me was 3; wrong?

"The Physician couldn't have fixed this," Armand observed, examining the mess, "Andy, you saved his life!"

But I didn't hear the rest.

Armand's mouth moved, but there no sound. The room spun.

My hands were shaking. They hadn't been shaking? I dropped the bloody knife.

Then I fainted.

The next thing I knew, I was wet. And cold.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Father was demanding, standing there with an empty bucket.

"I 3; I 3;"

"Maggie kicked Felix, bad, sir," Bertrand said.

"Who's Maggie?" Father asked.

Everyone pointed at Felix's horse, and her bloody new back shoe.

"It's my fault, sir. She tried to kick me," Eryk spoke up, "I was showing Felix, and 3;"

"Armand, is this true?" Father demanded.

"Oh, dear!" John then gasped, as he and the others came to see what the commotion was. He turned to Felix's father. Wolfram had got him a cold mug of water and was steadying him. "Congratulations!" John then smiled, "A fortuitous kick by a horse? Think of the possibilities the boy now has!"

"You all clear out, now, so I can care for this child," Armand told them, much to everyone's surprise.

"We'll talk about this," Father warned me, helping me up.

***

So now you know how I came to geld my first boy, when I was but a boy myself.

Felix lived, thanks to Armand's care. Felix also drew attention away from Ephraim, which was a blessing as well, but we'll get to the rest of that later.

As for the Magistrate, he'd simply shrugged. "What else could you do, let him die? I don't punish folks for saving a life!"

And that was that.

As Bertrand had predicted, gelding opened many opportunities for Felix, taking him away from a failing Estate in our little self-important Province. The last I heard, he was working with the Guard near the City, breaking up illicit gelding operations amongst the Commoners.

The Magistrate has words with Andreas about Felix's accident, which makes Wolfram and Bertrand suddenly more popular at school. No one gives Ephraim a second look. Another boy of the Nobility begins to express his interest in being a eunuch, much to their Instructor's delight.

So there you have it, and now you know why I considered myself reluctant. I suppose, to some extent, that I still do to this very day. Every time I pick up a gelding knife, I pause for just a second to think of Felix; to think back to the first time I gelded a boy.

It's hard to recall just exactly what was going through my mind when I made my decision. I realized more than a few things in that moment of reluctance, but I think the three main ones were:

• I had to keep Armand out of it; he was a slave and would certainly be suspect.
• My friend was about to bleed to death in front of me.
• Yes, Felix was my friend.

Felix survived the ordeal, as you already know. I wasn't sure that I was going to, though. Father had said we were going to talk about it. But we didn't talk about it; he simply got me a tonic and put me to bed that night. That only made matters worse. He'd have all night to stew to about it. It was just as well, though. I didn't even remember Bertrand coming to bed, I was so badly in shock.

I slept late that next morning, and didn't want to get up to face them all. Visions of being shipped off to the Hinterlands with Zach's unit on their next rotation filled my head. Pirates in the Southern Sea? Dock duty on the Straits? Sold to the Persians as a camel racer? The list went on and on. Thank you, John, for some of your more lurid lessons!

I found myself naked in my bed, alone. Not even Bertrand was there, which was unusual. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Not sure what to do, I dressed in an old tunic and went downstairs. I wasn't even sure if school had started up again. I guessed that it hadn't when I encountered John, my Instructor, at the foot of the stairs. He must have stayed the night? He didn't say anything; he just smiled, took my hand, and led me to the dining room.

The first person I saw was the Magistrate, and he had the strangest look on his face. He also had a covered dish sitting on the table in front of him. He wasn't alone, either; it looked like a dinner party waiting to start. Our Physician was there, as were the Gelder and his two assistants, Will and young Michael. My Father (of course) was there, Felix's father, Manuel and his father, all the boys, and in fact, everyone who'd been there as a witness to "the deed" the night before. Even Ephraim. Armand was excused, as he refused to leave Felix's bedside in the slaves' quarters.

More than a few of them were looking ill.

Had dinner really been that bad?

I could tell by the light in the windows that it was near noonday. The Magistrate was sipping hot tea, and he had a document. A big one. He called me over and bade me sit by him. To sum it up, I was being charged with:

• Gelding without a license
• Gelding a Noble boy
• Conspiracy
• Assault
• Conspiracy to commit illicit gelding
• Conspiracy to commit illicit gelding of a Noble boy
• Assault of a Noble boy

I read the document and gulped. Loudly. Each charge had some text to define it. A lot of text.

"So, Andreas," the Magistrate clapped his hand on my shoulder and left it there, "I see you had an exciting night? Why wasn't I invited to this dinner party?"

"S-sir?" I swallowed hard again.

"I've been taking testimony from your friends here all morning, Andreas," the Magistrate explained, "All morning, waiting for you to wake up. So, what have you got to say for yourself?"

I looked at the list of charges again, and I remember that I started laughing. Everyone was staring at me as if I'd gone mad. Perhaps I had? After all, I'd just made a snap decision to slice off my friend's glands, hadn't I?

My mood faded, though, when my eyes met those of Felix's father. His face was strange, too. I didn't know what he was feeling, but I suddenly knew how I was feeling. That, and everyone was staring at me.

"Is Felix all right, sir?" I asked, recovering myself, and realizing that Armand wasn't there.

It was the Gelder who answered me. "Thanks to you, yes. I see that all those days of standing around watching me weren't wasted, Andreas?"

"I've examined the boy," the Physician cut in, "I must say, Andreas, that you are to be commended. You kept calm, and even knew to drain the pouch, pull the cords, and tie them off above the bleeding tears? I dare admit, boy, that I've lost a few patients to such injuries. In cases like these, improper placement of the tie can be lethal." He then lifted the lid on the dish. Everyone groaned, scooted back, or looked away! Well, everyone but the Gelder and his boys.

"Just 3; no!" Father told him.

"Evidence!" The Magistrate informed me.

"We've seen it," Manuel's father groaned.

"We didn't want to see it!" John added.

"Excuse me!" Manuel ran from the room.

"But Felix is all right, sir?" I repeated.

"Armand believes he'll be fine," the Physician answered, "And so do I. Some fever, but that's to be expected. I'll be checking in on him every other day."

Everyone was staring at me, still. It was unnerving.

"So, you admit to gelding Felix?" The Magistrate asked me, and I thought it was such a silly question! Hadn't everyone there seen me do it? Hadn't they already seen Felix?

"Y-yes, sir?" I replied. "Am I in trouble, sir? I mean, what else could I do?" I started to babble. I didn't realize that I'd started to cry. I had no idea how I sounded. I wouldn't, until Bertrand told me about it some days later. I suppose I told them all about it? I don't really recall.

"So you just 'did it'?" The Physician asked, when I'd finished.

"Yes, sir! I just couldn't let him bleed to death!"

Felix's father was glaring at me. I was certain that he must hate me now, for what I'd done to his son. His Noble Firstborn. His son, who was now a eunuch. Gods, I'd finally invited someone over to dinner, and ended up gelding him! Some host I was?

As for the Magistrate, he simply shrugged. "Yes, what else could you do, let him die? I don't punish folks for saving a life!"

"Andreas," Felix's father then got up, and came over to kneel down. He took my hands. "I don't know how you knew what to do, but I'm glad that you were there to do it. The Physician here, he's looked at all the bloody rags, what's left of Felix's 3; bits 3;" he nodded at the covered dish, "and looked at Felix, too. He says that if you hadn't done what you did, that Felix would have bled to death before Eryk even made it to his house." He paused. I thought he might cry. I found that I didn't want to see that.
"We almost didn't come, you know," he sniffed, smiling wryly, "Felix couldn't believe you'd invited him, but he wanted to meet this new boy. He's not got 3; many friends, you know." He then looked at me, waiting.

I looked at Bertrand, Wolfram, and the lot of them.

"He does, sir," I told him.

"Andreas, I'm sorry for the way I spoke to your slave, Bertrand, and how I treated Armand. I'm sorry for getting angry at Eryk, too. I suppose I was in shock at what was happening? What I don't understand, though, is how your slave knew about Felix? Why he'd 3; tried to harm himself?"

"Sir, you should ask Bertrand," I told him, and Felix's father did, with some hesitation, as if talking to a slave was somehow degrading.

"I'm a eunuch, sir," Bertrand answered, looking down after a brief eye contact, "I didn't have a choice, but I think boys like us just sort of know it?" He glanced at John. "Sir, if you want to know something, just ask the slaves. People ignore us, but we hear everything. I heard some things at school, from Felix, about him, and from his friends – if you can call them that, sir. They just talk like I'm not there, you know."

Wolfram was nodding, too. He agreed. "Felix asked me about it, sir, when I came back to school after I was 3; gelded," he admitted. "I should have said something, too. I'm sorry, but I thought he was just making fun of me, like the others."

"Sorry, Wolfie," Manuel told him, having come back from vomiting.

"I'm to blame as well," John spoke up, "Bertrand told me that he thought that Felix might be up to harming himself. I admit, I didn't believe it that one of my Noble students here would want to be a eunuch. After all, young Wolfram had such a hard time of it, when he fell ill and had to be gelded. I couldn't imagine Felix wanting to chance that sort of teasing and cruelty from his peers. I should have listened to Bertrand," John concluded, "And I'm sorry. Sorry for Felix, and sorry for Andreas. Starting tomorrow, I'll be meeting with parents and boys of all ages. We need to find out if anyone else is entertaining such notions!"

Felix's father then took my hands. "Thank you, Andreas, for saving my son's life. And thank you for making me realize just how unhappy he's been."

He then reached for the document, picked it up, and tore it in half. "I won't have this boy charged, sir," He reminded the Magistrate.

"Didn't think you would!" The Magistrate grunted, "And I'd have probably charged you for being an idiot if you had!"

He then looked at me.

"Well done, boy. Just don't do it again!" The Magistrate warned me, "Well, unless that damn horse kicks someone else? Oh well! Case closed. Is lunch ready yet?"

Then everyone stood up and clapped. I just sat there, hardly able to believe it.

"Don't do it again, at least, not until you've had some formal training," The Gelder told me. He then wanted to know if I were up to telling him about it, from what I could remember. Father told him he'd have to come to the barn to talk to me. Father then snapped my worker's collar around my neck and ordered me to the slaves' quarters to relieve Armand. I was more than happy to comply.

"Oh! And you get the bill for the usual gelding tax," The Magistrate added, grinning. Yes, he was serious. I still have the receipt for it!

"It's a formality, son," Father told me on the way out, and I was afraid that we'd reached that "we're going to talk about this" thing. "The Magistrate had to investigate, you see. It's his job." He didn't say any more until we got to the main barn and turned to head to the slaves' quarters. "You did the right thing, son," he finally said, "I'm proud of you." He clapped me on the back. "But you realize that Felix is sort of your responsibility now?"

"Sir?"

"He's not a Peasant, or even a slave," Father told me, "And he's not eight years old. Felix might come to find out that being isn't so much fun as wishing, Andreas. He's going to need you boys to train him up and help him adjust."

"Yes, sir," I nodded.

"And don't you go standing behind Maggie, either!" Father warned me, as he left before I could pursue that idea again.

Sitting there at Felix's bedside, staring at the honey plaster on his bruised groin, I began to feel somewhat proud of myself. After all, I'd just gelded a Noble, and gotten away with it. For just a moment, I thought about a few of the boys that I really didn't like in Felix's place.

My prick was hard again.

"Maybe Father's right? Maybe I am getting strange?" I wondered, as I covered Felix again and checked the fire. It was getting cooler out, after all, and Father was right – Felix was my responsibility now.

"You might be," Armand startled me, "Since Felix is asleep, and you're talking to yourself." He then handed me a plate. "Late lunch."

I realized that everyone else was inside for lunch. Hopefully, it would be a nicer meal than last night's dinner? I sort of grinned at that.

"Armand, what happened to me last night?" I asked him, "When I passed out?"

"You're probably still a bit young to understand this, Andy," he told me, looking unsure, which was unusual for him, "But I think you experienced some kind of sexual pleasure."

I didn't understand at all. Keep in mind, that at that time of our lives, we knew the mechanics of sex. We understood that adults liked it, especially men. We all knew where babies came from, of course, but that was about it. To say that we understood that sex could be fun? No, because none of us had had any kind of sexual experiences. For the most part, we were all about eleven years old. Never mind that, except for me and Ephraim, everyone else was a eunuch.

Armand was clearly flustered, and he tried to keep it brief. He knew that I wasn't going to give up until he explained it. I was just that kind of boy!

"You know how it can feel good to play with your prick?" He asked me. He waited. I didn't answer right off. "Don't tell me you don't, because unless they don't have one, every boy plays with it, Andy!"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Now, the men – who aren't eunuchs – like your father, enjoy sexual relations because performing the act feels good. You know when a man, or a mating animal, empties his seed?"

"Yes?"

"That's called 'the climax'. It's the best feelings," Armand said, "But a man, or boy, can have a climax, even if he's not mating. There are other ways to do it."

"You mean I think I had a climax?" I asked him.

"Close enough. You got the feeling without the seed," Armand sighed, "Why don't you ask Eryk about it?"

"What would he know about it? He's gelded?" I wondered.

"Just because a boy is gelded, doesn't mean that he can't have sexual relations," Armand replied. "Remember that some men prefer gelded boys to women?"

"How?" I wondered, "I thought that was the whole idea of eunuchs? They're not interested? They can't do it with a girl?"

"Go ask Eryk!" Armand threw up his hands, and I think that was the first time that I'd ever seen him give up in frustration over 3; anything!

To make a very long story short there, we all got together with Eryk for an explanation. Well, we left Little John out; he was too young. We all walked away from that one really confused, too! I won't go into great detail; I'm sure you all know about sexual relations? Men and women? Men and boys? Eunuchs and 3; whoever?

"You'll understand it when you do it," Eryk assured us, and I could hardly believe what he'd said he'd gotten up to the past couple of years when he'd gone home to visit.

"I had no idea there were so many ways to 3; carry on?" Ephraim wondered.

"It sounds awful," Bertrand decided, "What Eryk likes to do with his brother and them?"

"It's not so bad," Wolfram commented, his face pink, "Not if the other person really loves you." Of course, I knew who he was talking about: his cousin, Zach. I guessed that it wasn't a joke, about what soldiers did with some of their Pages?

"So what do you think, Andy?" Ephraim asked.

"I'm not sure Father would like it if he knew I kissed a boy, much less put my prick in him!" I told 'him', which, of course, got me a good punch to the arm.

"You better let it grow some more, first," Bertrand put in, so we both punched him!

***

Since everyone had agreed to not talk about the incident with Felix, naturally, everyone at school knew about it on our first day back. The rumor mill, as Father called it, was running at full speed as we met up with some of the other Noble boys on our way to class. I was never so happy to see our Instructor show up, and put a stop to the barrage of questions and rude comments!

"Did you hear?"
"Andreas gelded Felix!"
"What?!"
"Yeah, first time he invites someone over, and he cuts his stuff off?"
"Hope he don't invite me to dinner!"
"I heard his slaves 3;"

Like I said, at least the incident with Felix had distracted everyone from Ephraim. No one was giving our imitation boy a second look.

"BOYS!" John shouted at us, as some of the students were already disrobing in the entry hall. "I want you to know that we have a new student! Some of you may already know Ephraim? He's being adopted by Miss Elise's family, he's their nephew, in fact. He's endured a recent loss, so I expect you all to be polite?" He scowled around the room, fingering his cane.

Everyone looked at Ephraim, with his plain everyday tunic and short haircut. There were polite greetings exchanged, then John informed us of his change in dress code. The boys were surprised.

"Due to Ephraim's religious beliefs, which require that he remain clothed in public, I have decided that if anyone wishes to remain dressed, he may. You may still, however, disrobe if you like. Be warned, however, that if I suspect cheating or contraband on your person, the punishments will be most severe!"

"So does the slave get to wear clothes now?" Charles snickered.

"Better watch it, or Andreas will cut your glands off!" Simeon warned him.

Those remarks got them both a good slash across their bare arses with the cane. I was quite pleased with that.

"Do I look like I can change public law, you stupid boy?" John chastised him, "And why cover something so pleasing to the eye?"

"You're talking about the slave, sir?" Simeon wondered. WHACK! Simeon howled as the cane struck him. "What?! What did I say?" WHACK!

"Care for four?" John asked.

"So it doesn't bother Ephraim to see other boys naked?" Menas wondered, holding his tunic as if he were thinking about putting it back on.

"No," Ephraim told him, "I just don't make it a habit to stare at other boys' parts. It's impolite."

There were jeers and jibes at that clever remark. I was quite impressed with Ephraim's comeback, in fact. And he wasn't done, either.

"Just so you all know, I was there when Felix had his accident! His horse kicked him! Bertrand and the stable boys saw it, too. It was awful! If Andreas hadn't known what to do, Felix would have bled to death! Andreas saved his life!"

Menas gasped.

"So, you really did geld him?" Simon wondered, as John was getting our lessons ready.

"I had to," I remember mumbling in reply, just starting at John and his piles of notes. I figured I'd not learn much that day; I couldn't stop thinking about Felix. I kept my legs crossed, too. For some reason, my prick didn't want to soften. I might have been upset, but I was still of the mind that if Bertrand had to wear a collar and be naked, so did I. Wolfram, on the other hand, seemed content to just leave his shoes at the door.

Another thing that I found entertaining was our Instructor telling everyone that he'd be conducting interviews with each student and their fathers, in light of what had happened to Felix. I noticed that Charles and Simeon were especially nervous when John informed us that Felix had, in fact, harmed himself in his bid to become a voluntary eunuch.

"Hold on, sir! You mean Felix wanted to get gelded?" Menas squeaked in surprise.

"Why?!" Many of the other wondered.

"Why do you think?" John invited discussion.

"For a career of some kind, not just running his Estate, sir?" Menas offered.

"Very good! Before I returned here," John began to lecture, "As you all know, I was educated in the City and taught boys there. In addition to Nobles, I even tutored a few members of the Royal family, nephews and cousins and the like. You should all know that eunuch boys of the upper classes are much more common in the City. It's not looked down on, as it is in this little Province. Fully half of the boys in my classes there were eunuchs, gelded as young as age six. In fact, there are boys on waiting lists for the Gelders there, and the interviews, testing, and the like, are quite the involved process."

I don't think anyone believed him. I tuned most of it out, though. My mind was elsewhere.

"You've met the Prince, sir?" Charles wondered.

"No, but I've taught a few of the Royal cousins and more distant relatives," John informed us, "They're all gelded, as a eunuch can do many things – he cannot, however, take the Throne. The Imperial Family, that is to say, the Emperor and the Prince, make it a practice to geld all the other male relatives in boyhood so that they families cannot make a bid for the throne. Of course, each one keeps a spare, just in case. The intrigue is ridiculous!"

"Is that why little brothers of Commoners often get gelded, sir?" Menas wondered. It was more than he'd ever spoken up in class before.

"Yes," Wolfram held up his hand, "But it can also work in reverse. If the oldest son is a eunuch, the next younger brother inherits."

"Not that you'd want some of the places here," Simon put in, and I knew he was talking about Felix's poor Estate. In fact, I knew of Commoners in business in the village that were just as well off as Felix's family. Once again, I found myself entertaining the idea of gelding Simon and his peers. It might do them some good, I wondered.

After class, I was obliged to answer all their questions as we got ready to head home. I think it was the most that any of them had ever talked to me, and I didn't really like it. I noticed that more of them seemed to be talking to Wolfram and Bertrand, though, the latter surprising me. Almost no one talked to Bertrand at school, but to poke fun at him.

"So how long until Felix is better?" Menas was asking him, as he followed along on his pony.

"Armand says three weeks, maybe, but he's not sure. The horse hurt him pretty bad, Young Sir," Bertrand replied, tacking that address on the end in a somewhat hateful tone. Who could blame him? I noticed that Bertrand, seated behind me on Lightning, didn't even turn around to answer him.

"You can call me by name, if you like," Menas told him, sounding subdued.

"So, you're not a eunuch too, are you?" Simeon then brazenly asked Ephraim, smirking.

I know, confusing, isn't it? Never mind that we had two Simons, a SimEon, and another John at school. We only had one Basil, though, and he seemed to be interested in chatting with Ephraim.

"He's Andy's girlfriend's new brother, so watch out!" The other Simon warned him. Great – now I had that reputation?

So much for passing as a boy, though, I wondered? It seemed that Ephraim had everyone fooled, and our Instructor had promised a lesson on Zoroastrian beliefs. No one at school seemed to even suspect that he'd just spent the day naked in front of a girl! Well, most of them. Other than Wolfram, only a couple others had stayed dressed. Elise had seen us all naked before, so I wasn't bothered. I didn't know if 'he' was. I didn't ask. I was still angry about that remark about Bertrand.

"I had to look twice at you, but no, I'm quite intact!" Ephraim replied, punching Simeon's upper arm.

Now that was funny! Having toughened up with us, Manuel's glare made Simeon back down. He didn't say anymore, but rubbed his arm as he headed off towards home.

"So, what did you think of school with the boys?" I asked Ephraim, as we headed home.

"I was bored out of my mind!" Ephraim declared, "I've been through half of Father's library, you know."

"Why?" Manuel asked, before we came to his turnoff.

"Never mind!" I cut in, before Ephraim could expose himself. Manuel took his leave of us then.

"Say hello to Felix, if he's awake!" He called back.

"What else do girls have to do? Knit? Garden? Order servants about?" Ephraim shrugged, "I have to say, this is more fun, though!"

"You almost told on yourself!" Wolfram gasped.

Ephraim's eyes went wide. "I'll be more careful!"

"You do that," I grumbled.

"Uhm, Andy?" Bertrand tapped my shoulder, pointing behind us at Menas.

You'll recall that Menas was probably the smallest, most effeminate boy in school. He should have turned off when Simeon had, but for some odd reason, he'd followed along. Quietly. No one had noticed him.

Fortunately for us, Menas wasn't too bright, either. He hadn't gotten it.

"You don't have any brothers, Ephraim?" Menas asked.

"Ah, no?" Ephraim replied.

Menas nodded. "I do. Sometimes I think it'd be better to stay home and have Mother teach me. I hate school. Grandfather had a big library, too. He liked to collect stuff like that. Mother kept it all."

"Menas, what are you doing?" I asked him flatly, which seemed to frighten him.

"I 3; I 3; was just 3; ?" He fumbled, trying to find some courage to ask something, I thought. I figured that might take a while. "Andreas, can I come over and see Felix?"

"He won't be awake," I told him, "Armand and our household manager are giving him medicine for the pain. It makes him sleepy."

"Oh," Menas sighed, turning his pony, "Well, could you tell him hello for me, if he wakes up later?"

"Sure," I dismissed him.

"Goodbye, Bertrand. Wolfram. Nice to meet you, Ephraim!" Menas waved, then he trotted off.

"That was rude, Andy?" Ephraim wondered.

"That was Menas, and that was close!" I replied, as to me, that explained it all. The best word for Menas was 'annoying'.

"You know what I think?" Ephraim said.

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell us?" I replied.

"He's not that bad! I think Menas acts like those other rude boys, because he's so small and scared. You heard him say he hates school?" Ephraim mused.

"Who doesn't?" Wolfram wondered.

"He seemed 3; different 3; after hearing about Felix?" Bertrand added, "He was actually nice to me today, Andy?"

"First time for everything," I sniffed, not willing to give any of them the benefit of the doubt.

"He lives near Felix, they're friends," Wolfram stated.

"They are?" I hadn't known that?

"That's because you don't talk to anyone," Wolfram reminded me, "You just tolerate them."

"I talked to you?"

"Only because Wolfram was always kind to me," Bertrand reminded me.

For some reason, that made me angry. I pulled Lightning to a stop and turned around to face Bertrand. "And if I don't defend you, who will? You're a slave, Bertie! You come back at one of the Noble brats, you'll be horsewhipped, or end up with no head!" Everyone paused at my sudden outburst.

"Andy?" Ephraim wondered.

"No! You think I like how they treat you, Bertie? You think it's easy, watching them snicker at you every day? Seeing how much they hate you for being so smart? And watching you just have to sit there and take it? I hate them for it, Bertie! I hate all of them! Gods! What I wouldn't give to take a gelding knife to the Noble lot of them!"

"Ouch," Wolfram mumbled.

Bertrand just stared at me ranting at him, and he didn't hesitate a bit to reply. "You think it's easy for me to watch you hating them, Andy? I love getting to go to school! That's why I take it – because I'm with you all day, and John doesn't treat me like a slave. And you don't have to remind me that I'm a slave. It's kind of hard to forget," He pointed at his collar. "Besides, if it wasn't for me, John would have expelled you a long time ago!"

"They sound like my parents?" Ephraim was telling Wolfram.

To this day, I remember that outburst. So does Bertrand. I think that was the day that I realized how much I truly loved him. That was the day that I realized that I acted the way I did out of fear of something happening to him at school. He was a slave, remember, and the law was the law. As far as it was concerned, Bertrand wasn't a person – he was property. He didn't have any more rights than Lightning did.

"Guess that lets you out, Eph," Wolfram told him, "Boys' clothes or not. I think those two are already married!"

Leave it to Wolfram to smooth it all over. To this day, that's what he does best. We had to laugh at his joke. He was so deadpan about it, it was hilarious.

"Andy," Bertrand finally said, as we rode up to Ephraim's lane to drop him off, "I can handle those boys. I have since we were six. It's OK if Menas or Felix or someone decides to be nice to me."

He and Wolfram exchanged a look.

"You don't think 3; ?" I gasped.

They nodded.

"I think Menas wants to be a eunuch, too," Bertrand said, "He's really curious. Who else asked to come and see Felix?"

"He's curious?" I wondered.

"He's asked about it," Wolfram added, "You know he's not the oldest brother, right?"

I hadn't known.

"I'd guess that his family has talked to him about it," Bertrand nodded, as we rode on up the lane. Dieter came out to meet us and put Lightning away. "I know he certainly looks at me and Wolfie a lot, when he thinks we don't know."

"Maybe he thinks you'll geld him, Andy?" Wolfram said, and I really couldn't tell if he were serious or not.

"How is he?" I asked Armand, as we all went inside the slaves' quarters.

"Sleeping. He woke up earlier, had some water," Armand informed us, "I don't think he knows where he is, or what even happened, Andy."

"Good potion," Bertrand nodded.

"I think I could use some," I remember complaining.

"Someone had a bad day?" Armand wondered, flicking my collar, "Well, there's work to do. Take your mind off of it."

"We have schoolwork, Armand?" Wolfram reminded him.

"You do it, I'll copy yours," I told him, stripping off my tunic and tossing it to him. I grabbed a shovel.

"Where you going?" Bertrand asked.

"To dig a hole!"

"For what?"

"To hide in!" I snapped.

***

For three weeks, every day at school, it was "How's Felix?"

Just so you know, Felix was miserable. During his waking moments, he was in a lot of pain. Bertrand assured everyone, now that many of them were talking to him civilly, that having a large burn like that between your legs hurt pretty bad. "His tie came off a few days ago, so that's a good sign," Bertrand further explained, "No bleeding, and the bruising is clearing up."

Then there was Menas, who seemed to be trying to ingratiate himself.

"Andy, be nice to him," Wolfram kept telling me, "Can't you see he's worried about his friend, and probably worried about being gelded himself? He was asking me about it today, if Felix taking so long to recover was normal."

"Speaking of," I pulled Felix's homework from my pack and turned it in. During the previous week, he'd been well enough to sit up and do some of it. Armand figured that he'd be back to school in another week, wanting to give him more time to heal up. After all, riding a pony after being gelded probably wasn't a good idea.

***

Looking back, Felix's accident and my intervention, as I've mentioned, did accomplish a few things. The least of these certainly wasn't drawing attention from Ephraim. Our little ruse seemed to be working just fine. No one, not even John, suspected that he was really a girl. And since it wasn't customary for boys to usually be calling on girls, we didn't have the problem of anyone noticing that you never saw Ephraim and Elise together. It made me wonder, that if I hadn't lived next to Elise's place, if I'd have known 'her' so well, or even met her to begin with?

I probably would have, come to think. In our parents' minds, we were already married, you see 3; but I digress.

What I hadn't expected was the attention that Felix's ordeal had gotten Bertrand and Wolfram. After all, the three of us never had been the most popular boys at school. It was Manuel who brought this to my attention. He'd mentioned it before, but we'd never really talked about it. Come to think, I'd never really thought about how Manuel was our friend now.

"Everyone thinks you're conceited because you're rich," Manuel told me, not long before Felix came back to school. I'd been sitting there glaring at Menas again for talking to Bertrand, and Manuel had noticed.

"What?"

"Andy, you come to school, and you're a hellion. We all thought that was pretty cool, you know. The boy from the big Estate? Then they enroll your slave, and he's coming to school with you every day? Everyone thought you were just showing him off. Nobody else has his own personal slave boy."

"You all treated him like 3; a slave!" I countered.

"How else were we supposed to treat him?" Manuel asked, "And no, I don't think of him like that now, Andy. Not now that I know him."

"Not since your father made you be a slave for a season?" I grinned at him. I knew what he was saying, which, looking back, surprises me that the comment about Bertrand made it through my head. Father often said it was kind of thick.

"Exactly," Manuel agreed, "You're not so much of arse, now that I know you!"

"Thanks, I think?" I looked over at Bertrand, who seemed to be holding his own little court with Menas, Basil, and Other-Simon. The lesser of the evils, as Father often said; I don't think I'd ever been in a scrap with any of them. Menas was studying Bertrand's collar.

"Our slaves' collars aren't this nice?" Menas was saying, I could just overhear them. "It's got a very nice lining, and it's not so heavy?"

"Andy made it for me," Bertrand replied, and I noticed that he wasn't calling them 'sir' or 'master'. They were talking to him like he was one of them. "Since I have to wear it almost all the time, he made sure that it wouldn't hurt me."

"So why does he have a collar?" Basil asked, jerking a thumb in my general direction.

"Because he works. The Master treats him just like any other Contract." They all seemed shocked to hear that. "And he likes it that way," Bertrand added.

"Does he get paid, like apprentice boys?" Basil wondered.

"Yes, but he usually ends up having to give it back. They made him pay for Felix's gelding tax, you know."

They all had a laugh at that. I didn't find it amusing. I save a life, and I get a fine?

I wasn't sure how I felt about that conversation, though. For some reason, it made me angry, them talking to Bertrand. Manuel caught it.

"Let him talk, Andy," Manuel touched my arm, "You don't need to protect him right now. He's fine." He paused. "Andy, are you jealous, that they're being nice to him now? It made you mad that they treated him like a slave, and now that they're being nice to him, you're mad too? Is that why you hate Menas, I mean, even more than you did?"

I suppose I was angry. Before, other than Wolfram, no one had ever talked 'to' Bertrand – they talked about or 'at' him.

"So you think Felix will be back soon?" Menas was asking.

Bertrand nodded. "Armand's been letting him up for a little at a time this week, having him walk around, and eat a little. He's lost a lot of weight."

"I've heard that Armand is really smart," Basil wondered, "Father's thinking about asking your Master if he can come over and have Armand teach our Overseer some things."

"I just hope Felix will be all right," Menas sighed. He gulped as I walked up. Simon leaned back.

"He'll be staying with us for the winter," I informed them, "His father wants him to learn how to work, and get him back in shape, you know."

"Just like I did," Manuel added.

They all seemed shocked by that. Menas just looked down at the tabletop and sniffled. Manuel nudged me. "You can come and visit any time you like," I told him, "Felix misses you, too."

Well, I guess he did. He seemed to be having a good time talking to the boys, Armand, Mattias, and the rest of them, though.

I probably shouldn't have said that. Menas embarrassed himself when he started crying. Surprisingly, no one made fun of him. Not even Charles and Simeon.

"He's fine, Menas! He's not going to die," I reminded them. "What is it?"

Menas looked at Bertrand and nodded. The other Noble boys seemed suddenly interested in schoolwork notes.

"Andy, Menas' father told him last night that they're having him gelded soon. His older brother is betrothed now, so they've finally decided," Bertrand told us, "With Wolfram, and what happened to Felix, and since John explained about the City?"

Just about everyone within earshot was squirming. It was obvious that John wasn't going to find very many volunteers in his planned interviews! I remembered what Father had said: Wishing might be more fun than having.

"Andy, can I 3; come over today?" Menas sniffled, looking pathetic.

"Sure," I punched his arm, but not hard.

Our lessons resumed with John extolling the virtues and benefits of eunuchs. I think he was doing it just to make Menas feel better, as he kept looking at him when he'd mention some great job that only a eunuch could have.

"What he's not talking about is how military Pages get shot at, sometimes," Wolfram shivered, having narrowly avoided that career himself.

Still, I could see that our Instructor was proud. I had a feeling that Menas wasn't going to be the last Noble eunuch in our area.

***

Menas followed us home that night, and Father was pleased.

"About time you started making friends," he told me.

"Manuel wasn't enough, sir?" I replied. "Or Ephraim? What about everybody else?" I waved my arms around.

"Workers and slaves don't count, and Elise, erm, Ephraim, lives next door."

"'Next door' is like an hour's walk away, Father," I reminded him.

Never mind that Menas was standing right there, while Eryk was taking his pony into the barn to clean up and fuss over. Being raised in a livery, Eryk was like that. Menas seemed fascinated with the older boy.

"Isn't it kind of cold to work naked?" Menas wondered.

"It's a contest, I think," Father told him, "To see which boy gives in first and puts an apron or cloak on!" He laughed. "So what brings you here, uhm 3; ?"

I had to introduce them, as Father didn't know Menas.

"I'd like to see Felix, if that's all right, sir?" Menas sort of bowed.

"You'll have to ask Armand," Father told him, as he excused himself. Miss Morgana was shouting at him out the window about something burning. Again.

Meeting Armand left Menas speechless. "You get used to him!" Felix greeted Menas, as he came toddling out of the main barn with Armand steadying him. Felix had a loose work apron on, and looked rather silly.

"Get your knees closer," Armand was telling him, "Or you'll start to look like a bowlegged courier!"

"But it hurts, sir!" Felix protested.

"Toughen up, boy," Armand slapped his back.

Menas just stared. "We're going to get him in shape, like Manuel," I warned Menas. That, of course, had been a real source of gossip at school, when Manuel's father had 'exiled' him to our Estate to learn how to work. "So while he's here, he answers to Armand, who answers only to Father."

"Or you?" Menas wondered.

"No, I answer to Armand, too," I pointed at my worker's collar, pulling Menas back so that Felix would have to walk over to us with Armand prodding him. When he finally made it, the two Nobles hugged. Menas started crying again. Armand noticed the look on my face.

"Before you say anything, Andy," the Overseer warned me, "Think about how you'd feel if Bertie were hurt, and you didn't see him for three weeks."

"He'd never manage it," Bertrand shrugged, smirking.

"They're going to have Menas gelded," I whispered to Armand, figuring Menas would bring it up when he was ready. After all, we had no shortage of boy eunuchs for him to talk to about it.

Armand nodded knowingly.

"And we'll probably be seeing more of Menas, while Felix is here," Bertrand added.

"The more, the merrier!" Armand declared, as he decided to show Menas around. "It's about time you got up and learned where everything is," he was telling Felix, "If you're going to work for me!"

The two Nobles just stared at him.

***

As I said before, sometimes I think the gods hate me. All of them. Pick one; I don't care which. The incident with Felix was just the start of it, I think. Even before Maggie the horse had kicked him, though, and I'd done his emergency gelding, Felix's father had been entertaining the notion of having the boy come to us for training, as Manuel had. I prefer to blame this all on Manuel, in fact. He was the one what started it!

So it was, with Felix up and about, that Menas began hanging around more. He didn't stay for dinner that first night he visited, but the next day off of school, Father informed us that his family would be coming over. In the meantime, Felix was adapting to either wearing nothing at all, or a work apron. I think the collar was getting on his nerves, though.

"You get used to it," I'd told him, when Armand had put it on him for the first time.

"It's not like you're a slave," Bertrand told him helpfully.

"You're just the next best thing," I added, which got me a cuff to the head from Armand.

"Don't do that, you'll soften his brains," Father told him.

"Too late," Bertrand shrugged, so I punched his arm. That led to a tussle, of course, as the other boys joined in.

"Let 'em beat each other, they'll sleep better tonight," Armand mused.

And sleep, we did. Our routine was school, work, schoolwork with Armand and the boys, more work, bed, and repeat the whole thing the next day. The weather was turning cooler, though, and aprons and cloaks were the order of the day when not working. More than one boy was grateful to Ephraim and his religion, though, in that we got to stay dressed for classes with John.

"We're finally getting some culture in this backward little Province," our Instructor declared, as he came for dinner with Menas' family that first visit. I suppose it was timing. John seemed to have impeccable timing in such matters. I didn't know what he was talking about.

Bertrand did, though. "He means Menas being a Noble and getting gelded on purpose, like the Highborn boys in the City do, Andy."

Such was the dinner conversation. At least it got rid of Grandmother, who was incensed that Bertrand was sitting right there with me in a clean apron at the table. I'd had just about enough of parading him around naked, so that our guests could leer at my gelded slave boy. Felix's parents hadn't come, though. It was part of the agreement that he not see them for a while, so that he could learn what it was like to be Contracted. He didn't take it well, got homesick, but Armand and the boys got him through it. Menas was just happy to get to see his friend, though, and I really couldn't blame him.

"Why don't you just have school here?" Grandmother snapped, "Bring those nasty little Peasant shepherds in too!"

"JOHN! ELIAS!" I got up and shouted out the window, "Grandmother wants to see you!"

The old bat excused herself. Loudly. Father glared at me. Menas' parents found it amusing. His mother, I noticed, was more outspoken than your usual Noble wife. I started to understand why Menas was such a seemingly hopeless case. It was hard to believe that he was related to his bear of an older brother, Marcus, who already had some facial hair!

Menas, I noted, ate fast, as he wanted to be out with Felix and the gang. I couldn't blame him. Father finally got the hint before the cake was even served, and excused us. We fled.

On the way out, we could hear Menas' father asking mine, "So what would it take to have you train the boy, Nigel? You did wonders with Manuel?"

"It was all Armand," Father was saying.

***

So that was how we ended up with Menas, too.

You can imagine how embarrassed he was, with the dinner conversation revolving around his coming gelding. It was just as well that he talk to Eryk and the gang about it for reassurance. Of course, different boys had different views about it. There were eunuchs, of course, who resented what had been done to them. This was why, John always said, boys should be gelded as soon as possible. This not only gave them more time to get used to it, accept it, but so that they'd also not even know what was being taken away from them.

During the off-season, as you'll recall that there were no Gelding Days or village festivals in the winter season, the Gelder had to make a home visit. In Menas' case, he sent his apprentice, Will, and young Michael as well. Menas had nearly worked himself up into a panic over his coming gelding, though, and it was (naturally) Bertrand who came up with the solution on Menas' last day at school before his appointment with Will.

"Andy, why don't we have your father just go ahead and set up Menas' training? He'll be with Felix and the other boys that way, and it'll make it easier for him."

It was a wonderful idea! So it was that Menas' gelding took place right where Felix's had – sans Maggie, however! Will and Michael were delighted to come, of course, as they'd be staying on for a few days after the gelding.

"Why does everyone have to watch?" Menas whined, as Armand had him 'boiling' in the metal tub to get him ready. He'd already shaved Menas' head, and I was busy finishing up a Contract collar for him.

"At least the whole village isn't here," Bertrand told him, handing him a mug of spiced and drugged wine. We figured that since Menas' gelding wasn't a punishment, and since he was about to work himself up into a frenzy, that it would be a good idea to get him drunk. With any luck, he'd pass out at just the right time.

"It won't be so bad," Felix assured him, "It'll hurt some, but it won't be so bad as mine!"

"One little slice, and it's all over," Will told him, as Menas was staring in terror at the Apprentice's tools. "It wasn't so bad, was it, Michael?" He asked his young trainee.

"No, well, but nobody told ME that you were gonna cut MINE off, when Father got me the job!" Michael scowled, as he was checking the ointments and bandages.

"Just be glad that we don't use you for testing on better ways to remove a prick!" Will joked. Michael glared at him. I had the feeling that Michael didn't find his assigned line of work fulfilling? Gods, what I wouldn't have given to trade places with him! I was already getting nervous, too, and my prick was so hard that it hurt, again.

Menas drank his wine, choked, and just soaked for a bit to loosen him up. When he started giggling, Armand decided that it was time. He got him out of the tub, dried him off, and then helped Will secure him to the table. Menas squeaked as Will worked his pouch, pulling it, so that he could apply the tie. He gave it a bit, until Menas finally declared that it was staring to ache. Our plan seemed to be working; Menas suddenly found it all very funny.

"Nobody got me drunk before," Michael commented.

"It's a good idea, I think!" Will told Bertrand, "Nothing worse than screaming, struggling little boys making fools of themselves and trying to get loose!" He nudged Michael, who just frowned and got his collection bowl ready.

As Menas' pouch began to turn color, Will grasped it and pulled it down. He placed the small curved knife beneath it, Michael positioned the bowl, and then Will flicked his wrist. Menas' glands came away in their pouch in one smooth cut.

A second later, and the pain hit him.

Menas went rigid in his bonds, screamed into his gag, then fainted. He moaned as Will cauterised the wound, but didn't wake up.

I thought I'd faint, as Eryk and Bertrand caught me by the arms.

Wolfram just watched, his face stoic. "I wonder what he'll decide on, now?" He wondered.

***

Again, just so you all know: Menas stayed with us all winter long. He recovered quickly, as his gelding hadn't been so traumatic as Felix's had been. Once he was up and about again, he adapted to the daily routine. It was hard for him at first, being so small and used to being coddled, but he stuck with it. This is not to say that he didn't complain. After all, Manuel had had a rough go of it, too. But not once did Menas ever complain about or question his gelding.

Our Instructor nearly had apoplexy when Bertrand suggested that he compare Manuel and me to Menas and Felix, in a treatise called Physical Development in Both Gelded and Intact Noble Boys .

But Menas also had his best mate, Felix, to help him. They shared a bed in the slaves' quarters, and of course, Menas immediately became one of Armand's boys. Everyone else at school, especially our Instructor, marveled at the change in Menas. He toughened up, lost his baby fat, and his marks went up as well. We now had three Noble eunuch boys, plus Bertrand, and it didn't take long for the novelty of that to wear off. When it was finally time for Menas to finally return home in the spring, he cried and begged to stay with us.

For some reason, they all tended to do that. Armand said it was because eunuch boys were prone to it.

Menas now serves with Eryk and some of our other 'old boys' on the Provincial Council. He even spent some time with our Instructor and Wolfram, when they were invited to go with John for a tour of how things were done in the larger Provinces nearer the City, and even to the City proper. Some years later, and the both of them went back, for a few years, for further studies.

I missed them terribly.

Bertrand tells his side of the story

Bertrand sets the record straight

When you're a child, you tend to not pay too much attention to the passing of time. One day is much the same as another when you have a routine, and especially if you're a slave. For Andreas and me, and the rest of our friends, this was the case. In fact, leave it to Andy to mix up Manuel, Ephraim, Felix, and Menas. It seemed that we always had an extra boy underfoot, though, so we can't really fault Andy! He thinks Manuel came the year before Elise decided to become Ephraim. That happened the same year, and Felix and Menas were the next spring. After all, they wouldn't have learned much in winter, would they?

See what I mean?

Then again, I can't really blame Andy. He remembers things from, naturally, his perspective. But 3; leave it to Andy to turn things around. For instance, when he said that Wolfram never missed a Harvest Season with us? Of course he didn't. We'd adopted him. How could he miss a season? I can't believe he left that bit out.

It's really neither here nor there, though, once I think about it. We had the reputation, at our Estate, for being the place to go to have a problematic slave or a worthless Noble son trained up properly. Such was always the case, and if it worked for boys like Felix and Menas, it would certainly work for anyone. Slaves could be another matter, of course, but our residents (like Mattias) would quickly take them in hand. There was no need of a whip. Slaves who tended to be a problem usually had quite a few miserable nights nursing black eyes, fat lips, knocked out teeth, and even cracked ribs.

"The slave fixes the slave," Armand would always say, usually very interested in a cloud formation or some flowering bush when a problem slave was off screaming somewhere in the distance.

Younger slaves, like me, weren't nearly so much of a problem. In fact, we even had a few volunteers, like John (the little one, not John the Instructor). One would think that parents could have come up with a few more creative names for their sons? He and Elias, you had to love them. It was hard to think of them as slaves, and I don't think that Andy, or even his father, did. It was as if the Peasants had just come to work one day, picked up a collar, and stayed.

Personally, I'd never known any different. I'd known from a very young age that I was different, although I don't recall when I learned the word "slave". What stands out in memory was how upset Andy and I both were when we learned that we weren't really brothers, and that he was old enough to go to school – and I couldn't go with him. What resulted, as you already know, was Andy nearly being expelled during his first week, beaten daily by his Instructor, and his behaviour resulting in my accompanying him as the first-ever slave boy to attend the Nobles' school. After all, we'd never been separated, and school had come as a crushing blow to the both of us.

Throughout our childhood, I'd noticed some differences; it was kind of hard not to. Andy didn't have to do anything if he didn't want to, but I had to do everything I was told to do. If I did it wrong, or talked back, or did it poorly, then I'd be whipped. If Andy did something wrong, then I'd be whipped, too. But not him. Fortunately, it didn't take long for this to really upset him, so it seldom happened. Of course, Andy was initially sent off to school; I wasn't. The big one? Andy had clothing; I didn't. I had a collar locked around my neck, and Andy didn't. I also had all my hair shaved off at least once a month, while Andy's was allowed to grow out long and be put in a ridiculous top-knot style like all the other Noble boys wore. (Not that I was jealous of that silly look!)

Those things, and the fact that everyone seemed to like Andy better than me, quickly taught me that I was not Andy's equal. People spoke to Andy, while they only told me what to do. People paid attention to Andy. I was ignored until I was needed to do something for them. Andy was allowed to talk to adults, too. If I did, I was slapped and reprimanded. Andy received gifts for his birthday and other celebrations where gift-giving was customary, but I didn't. I suppose that was about the time that I started to understand the difference: I was a slave; Andy wasn't.

People treated Andy well. They treated me like … a slave.

But I was Andy's slave.

All slave boys should have it so good. As you already know, we were inseparable. I slept in Andy's room, in fact, I slept with him. To this day, the maids don't know who the bedwetter was. (Truth is, we seemed to take turns at it.) I sat next to him at the table to eat, which drove his Grandmother absolutely mad. The first time Andy had seated me, before we'd been old enough to go to school, everyone had gotten upset. Andy was told that he and I could go and eat in the kitchen if he were going to be so defiant. I was to stand behind him and wait until the family was done eating, and Andy had had enough of that. Yes, we ate our meals in the kitchen for a long while, until his father finally gave up. I suppose that from an early age, Andy was aware of how unfairly I was treated.

At least, in his view.

I think that was the first time that Andy ever took a whipping for me. I think he said it was the time he dressed me up in his Noble clothes for a birthday party, but that wasn't it. He refused to eat at the table with the family if I couldn't, and nothing was going to change his mind. It wasn't too long after that, that he began hanging around with me and the other slaves, following Armand around, and trying (mostly failing) to fit in.

If I had a gold coin for every time that I'd heard the Master say, "Because Bertie's a slave, Andy!" then I'd be a rich man. The problem was, little boys didn't understand what that meant. We thought it might be the hair or clothing thing, but in the end, we did what everyone did when they needed an answer to some perplexing question: we asked Armand, and he explained slavery to us.

"Bertie was born a slave, you see," I still remember him telling us, "That's why he's treated so different. It's just the way things are, boys." He'd then gone on to explain all about slaves, how one became a slave, about how he was one, too, and what a slave could expect in life.

We both cried ourselves to sleep that night.

"Then I'll go with him!" Andy had defiantly told his father, when asked what he'd do if I were ever to be sold. "It's just not fair, Father!"

Legally, there wasn't much that Andy could do about my enslavement. I was registered to him, though, even though he was a child. According to the law, which we later found out from snooping in his father's study (looking for paper and ink), I couldn't be sold without Andy's consent. Still, as a child, he couldn't emancipate me without his Father's consent. It would have to go through the Magistrate, and as much as we saw him at dinners and parties and such, we thought that he might like us. He always was a pleasant fellow, even to me, so we weren't worried too much about my being sold. That was also when we found the documents marked THE BOYS, when the Master had told Andy to fetch him some sales documents from his desk, but I'm getting ahead of myself there. We never let on that we knew this, however, and I think the Master realized that we were trying to be good to please him. Or, at least, if he saw through us, he never let on. He just let Andy have his own way, working with the slaves, wearing a collar, and not wearing clothes.

The more I think about it, the more I believe that the Master tolerated it to keep Andy out of trouble. That, and I think he was proud of him for being the fittest and strongest Noble boy in the Province. Proud of us, actually. Looking back, I don't ever recall the Master being unkind to, or degrading, me in front of guests.

How many other Noble boys would have done that for a slave, though? How many of them ever shared their birthday with their slaves, or gave them half of their gifts? And not just the unwanted things, either. What was Andy's was mine, or at least, he always told me. "It's Bertrand's birthday, too," he'd always remind his guests, or, when he was very angry about someone questioning why he was so good to me, "Because he's my brother!" He'd shout at them.

We certainly had Wolfram fooled, he once told us.

Looking back, yes, I was lucky. I could have ended up with far worse Masters. One might suppose, that, being raised as a child slave, I'd never know any different and been content with what I had. It doesn't work like that, though. Children or not, we see the differences. We have hurt feelings. Every time Andy's Grandmother hit me, it was just another painful reminder that I was different; a reminder that Andy was the loved son, and that I was the slave.

Andy made all that tolerable, though.

What he couldn't make tolerable was my gelding.

I know he's already gone on and on about Gelding Days in general, but only a eunuch can tell you how he truly feels about his own gelding. Everyone is different. Some want to be. Some don't. Some are eunuchs because of sickness or accidents, like Wolfram. And of course, some are slaves … like me.

And everyone reacts differently.

Some of us just put on a face for everyone else. We do what's expected of us.

When we were eight years old, the Master informed us that I was going to be gelded at the next town festival's Gelding Day. I was going to be gelded; Andy wasn't. You already know that Andy had an obsession with gelding, just as his father did. After all, all of the slaves and other paid workers on the Estate were eunuchs. Andy and his father and I (until we were eight) were the only intact males around. It wasn't like this all over the Province, but the Master was the Master, and he preferred all his male slaves, no matter their age, to be eunuchs. Even if he purchased an adult male slave, that slave would be gelded as well. This was to ensure that there would be no "carrying on" with the ladies, and that any surprise babies born to serving maids would definitely belong to the Master – or possibly to his guests. It didn't happen often, but Andy and I once walked in on one of the Master's business associates and one of the serving girls. We watched for a good five minutes before they noticed us, but I digress.

At first, it wasn't too worrisome – the idea of being gelded. Andy found it highly unfair, just as he did everything else, when he found out that only I was to be gelded. It was no secret that he thought that he should be gelded too, and at that age, we didn't really understand why, or what the big deal was. Telling us that gelding made a male – animal or person – easier to get along with, unable to produce offspring, and not be a bother to the girls, wasn't much of an explanation for prepubescent boys who didn't yet fully know what the bits between their legs were good for.

"It must feel really good, to stick your stiff prick into a girl, or female, the way the animals all want to do it?" I'd often wondered. Of course, we knew that from an early age, seeing animals mating.

"It looks just awful!" Andy would always tell me, "And it looks like she doesn't go in for it much!"

I remember asking Armand and Eryk about it, some days before I was to be gelded. They told me it would hurt, but that it would get me at least two weeks in bed to recover.

"Does it hurt very much?" I persisted.

"Worst pain I ever felt!" Eryk told me, but when he got on the subject, Armand always found something else for him to do, or just stepped on his foot. "But totally worth it!" He'd always say, "Best thing what ever happened to me, getting gelded and coming here!"

I didn't really understand that either, at eight. Eryk had come from a large family in the village, who owned their own livery. Commoners they were, yes, but 3;? Why send off a perfectly good free boy to have his glands sliced off, so he could essentially become a paid slave for some years before leaving the Estate to pursue his own career? He was still a stable boy, only now, he was a eunuch who had to work for us and not his own family. It didn't make sense to me.

"I don't understand it either," Andy told me, on our way to the Festival that day.

"You will when you're older," his father told him, "Don't be nervous, Bertie," he also told me, "It'll be over before you know it, and then you can go home and let Andy take care of you for a change."

You already know the story of my gelding, humiliating as that was, what with the whole damn village (it seemed) watching. At least Andy was there. And his father. I suppose that should have been the first sign that something was unusual with our relationship, but as children, we wouldn't realize it for years to come. The Master always called me by name; in fact, he usually called me "Bertie". While he ordered me around, he wasn't mean or dismissive to me as so many were. Especially not like Andy's Grandmother. What I ever did to upset her, I spent my whole childhood wondering. The old bitch hated me with a passion, and never missed an opportunity to hit me with her cane. She seemed to delight in my suffering after I was brought home from Gelding Day, and was disgusted that Andy devoted all of his time to me while I healed.

Being a eunuch was just further proof of how different we were, Andy and I. Though I think we both realized that Andy's fantasy of being gelded, too, was just that – a fantasy. After all, he was a Noble, the only son (at the time), and someone had to inherit the Estate. Of course, when we were eight, we didn't know that. Andy couldn't do all that if he were to become a eunuch, as silly of a law as that was. Just as silly as it was that I wasn't allowed clothing, except for work gear in colder weather. Up until I was gelded, it wasn't so bad, as Andy usually didn't bother with clothes in good weather, either. Still, even having been raised that way, I still found it humiliating to have to stand there behind Andy at dinner parties, naked but for my collar, and see to his wishes with everyone sneaking glances at me.

It was worse, though, once the Physician deemed me fit enough to be up and about after my gelding wound had healed. Now I wasn't only naked, I was naked so that everyone could see that I was a eunuch. Instead of a tight, little, round pouch between my legs, I now only had my limp, lonely prick. And of course, everyone looked. Many stared. Men did so more. So did Elise, when she was Elise, and not masquerading as the boy Ephraim. But, unlike so many, she was kind to me and even wanted Andy to "rent me out" to her. I don't know that it's ever come up, but Elise was the first girl I ever kissed. Then again, that was about all I could do with her, and I'd have been flogged if anyone had found out. Of course, it was all right for her to kiss my cheek, or hold my offered arm. Just another reminder that I was different.

Looking back, Elise might have annoyed Andy, but to me, she was a treasure. When no one was looking, she was kind to me. She liked to sit next to me, hold my hand, and I found that I didn't mind her peeking at my crotch. When she would ask me questions, shocking me that a young lady should know so much about matters sexual, I would always hear the genuine concern in her voice. I could also see the disgusted look on her face when the adults would make sport of me:

"Looks like the little eunuch boy has it bad for her?"
Chuckling, of course.
"Not that it'll do him any good!"
"Well, that's why he was cut, isn't it? So he'd be safe around girls?"

Of course, there was only so much that Elise and Andy could do to retaliate. I couldn't do anything but smile artificially (if I didn't want to be punished) and nod and say "Yes, sir!"

"Father, I want to buy Bertie!" Elise would say.

"NO!" Andy would always retort, "He's MY boy!"

"Can I rent him, then?" Elise would ask. She'd usually kick Andy's shin, genuinely! I had to admit, I sometimes enjoyed that part. "If you were a Noble gent, Andy, you'd let me borrow him!"

"Whatever for?" Andy would ask.

"He'd be helpless without me, Miss," I'd tell her, and everyone would laugh.

That's not far from the truth, though. In reality I often wonder if Andy would have even made it through school without me? I doubt it.

It was also nice that Miss Morgana, the head of the household staff, fussed over me so much in those days. Come to think of it, she was always kind to me, though. Sort of like an older sister. Although it was still humiliating, just after my gelding. She was the one who made up the ointments, and applied them to my wound when Andy wasn't around. She also made the tonics that relieved the terrible, burning pain of that wound, too, and for that, I loved her. She was also, other than Andy, the only person who seemed concerned about me.

My being a slave – being different from Andy – was all it took for someone else to decide whether I'd grow up to be a man, or grow up to be a eunuch. Essentially, just a taller and older boy, really: no deep voice, no beard, not as strong, no children, no wife, and no desire or need for one. There were Provinces that allowed free eunuchs to marry and adopt children, but in our Province, the attitude was mainly, "What's the point of that?"

Andy didn't know it, but whenever he wasn't around, I cried about it. As I said, I learned to put on the face that I was expected to wear. Not that it would have done me any good to protest or seek sympathy. Most of the time, these little breakdowns took place after meals in the kitchen, before Andy went on his extended protest about my treatment and essentially made himself a Contract worker. I supposed he thought that I must have been all right with my gelding, but in truth, I wasn't. Andy was always the one saying how unfair things were, and he was right. Having to work was one thing. Forced nudity was one thing. Wearing a collar was quite another. But they were my glands, and as a child, I didn't understand what gave anyone the right to say that I had to have them cut off. What if Andy decided to free me some day? What if someone else bought me? What if I wanted to have a family some day?

All that had been decided for me with one stroke of a sharp knife.

No, it wasn't fair.

And when Andy wasn't there, those were the hardest times.

"Trust me," Miss Morgana told me that first night after I was allowed up, as I'd cleared the dishes and Andy had gone off with his father, "You're better off for it. Boys grow up and turn into men, and then all they think about is getting into a girl's skirt!"

"You mean mating?" I remember asking her, humiliated in that she was looking at my scar again. I couldn't help but cry when she hugged me, leading me to the kitchen to treat my wound again.

"Well, if you're a cow, I suppose, the word is mating, yes," she agreed, "Men just love running their stiff pricks in and out of a woman, you know. Just like the animals do! And getting them bred. Sometimes I think the men aren't much better than the beasts, once they start to sprout their first hairs down there and their glands ripen and drop!"

"I'll second that!" Another of the kitchen girls agreed. In fact, they all did, and they all tried to comfort me, saying that it wouldn't be so bad that I was now a eunuch.

"It'll all work out, Bertie," they all told me, as Miss Morgana was putting some of her wondrous salve on my scar, easing away the hurt with each gentle stroke of her fingers, and holding me until the worst of it passed.

Of course, she always had the right tonic, and the right words to go with it. "Look at it this way, Bertie," She assured me, "Being a eunuch slave boy now makes you much more valuable, and you know that Andy will never part with you. He loves you like a brother, and besides, the Master thinks fondly of you too. And when people stare at you, you just remind yourself that you're the lucky one, because you're a eunuch boy. Women will love you because there's no risk of you starting a baby with them, and men will love you for the same reason. You'll understand that some day, Bertie. You'll retain your youthful looks and beauty for many years longer than you would have if you'd not been gelded. You'll be the envy of uncut boys." She kissed my cheek, just like she always did. "Me? I think it's the best thing to happen to a boy!" She had to add.

"I already know that sometimes men and boys like eunuchs, not girls," I told her, worried about that, too. Eryk had mentioned it, you see, but not in detail. Just enough to make me worry about it, that is, despite how much he said that he liked it. He was, after all, our go-to person for matters of all things sexual and worldly, since he was already eleven at the time, you know. And, having been raised in the village, he knew things that we rural boys didn't, you see. By the time Menas and Felix showed up, we knew all about it, but we'll get to that later.

Some weeks later came the only night that, other than Armand, I ever saw a servant strike Andy. After my gelding, it seemed, Andy wanted to spend all of his time with us slaves and workers. It was around then that he started working with us and wearing his collar all the time, and I think we had Miss Morgana to thank for that.

I'd just finished polishing the dining room table and gone off in search of Andy when I met him and the Master in the corridor. They'd just shared a hot bath inside, which was something that I never got to do. That was a ritual reserved for the son. I'd had one of Miss Morgana's drinks, one of the mixes that not only eased your pain, but made you pretty happy, too. Still, it wasn't doing much for my mood. I'd just had a good cry, after all, and I think they could see that.

"Bertie, are you all right?" The Master asked, touching my chin, raising my head to face him.

"Yes, sir?"
No, I'm NOT all right. It hurts!
Not that I would have, or could have, said that. Nor could I have mentioned how much it hurt to see him standing there with Andy, wondering what it was like to spend that kind of alone-time with him, bath or not, being touched, held, or simply talking about 'nothing'. Perhaps even talking about growing up to be the man of the Estate? Andy was just slipping his gown on, and the Master's was open a bit. I imagined them talking about how boys grew to be men, explaining his own manhood, which seemed very large to me. Something I knew that I would never have.

"Miss Morgana wants to see Andy, sir," I told them, and the Master dismissed us.

Back in the kitchen, just the three of us, Miss Morgana stared Andy down. Of all the slaves and servants, she was by far the most brazen. She'd even been known to tell the Master off when he complained about the cooking or something.

"Well?" She confronted Andreas, technically the Master of the House when his father was not present.

"Well, what?" Andy asked, genuinely confused, "What did I do now?"

"It's what you haven't done," Miss Morgana informed him, pointing at me, and I could see that she was genuinely angry. I just didn't understand why. Of all the people on the Estate, Andy by far treated me the best of any of them.

"Huh?" Andy just stared at her in confusion.

"Look at him!" Miss Morgana snapped, "What do you see?" She pointed a wooden spoon at me.

"Bertie?" He wondered.

"AND?!" She waved the spoon again. I got ready to run. "Of course it's Bertie, you fool!"

"He's 3;naked?" Andy offered. She waved the spoon again, "He's got fuzzy hair, not been shaved this month? WHAT?!" Andy held out his hands, "He's 3;he's wearing his collar, he's 3;clean? His wound's treated? He's healing good 3;" Andy was looking me up and down. "He's a eunuch now?" He seemed to be grasping, eyeing the spoon as I was.

"Very good!" Miss Morgana sneered at him, and to this day, I remember the look on her face, "And just what are you doing about it?"

"What? What am I … what am I supposed to do about it, Miss?" Andy wondered. She waved the spoon at him, and he got the hint, "It wasn't my idea! What?! I like that he's gelded! All the slaves are! I wish I was," he mumbled, as an afterthought, "Bertie's the lucky one." He paused. "And why are you talking to me like that?"

"Then you tell him that, Master!" She spat the word at him, "Every night since he's been cut, he's cried, Andreas! He's embarrassed, hurting, frightened, and humiliated! Slave children learn not to cry at a very early age, I'll have you know, so to see Bertie break down like he has hurts us all! What have you been saying to him? What have you been doing about it?" She repeated.

Andy just held out his hands in question, and the next thing, he got the wooden spoon across his open palms! Miss Morgana moved fast, and she had his dressing gown up in a flash, flipped him over her knee, and began beating his bare arse with the spoon until it was red.

Not used to thrashings, Andy howled in pain and surprise. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! She must have hit each bum-cheek a dozen times, eventually leaving welts. When she was done, Andy was sobbing. He leaned on the table, and when I went to him, he clung to me as if I'd protect him. Remember that it was me who got the whippings, not him. Even for his crimes.

"Now, what did you say about Bertrand?" She reminded him, threatening the spoon again.

Andy finally got hold of himself. I got him a damp towel and some water.

"Thanks," he managed, deciding not to sit down. I don't think he could. He didn't for three days. "Well, he gets 3; he gets haircuts," Andy seemed desperate to get it right, and who could blame him? I didn't much care for thrashings, either! "He's got a collar, he's n-naked, and he's g-gelded, Miss?"

"And he's the what, you said?"

"He's the lucky one!" Andy was quick with that answer, and in that moment, I realized something: Andy was jealous of me! ME! His slave, and he was jealous of me! I might have only been eight years old, but it was then that I truly realized just how much I loved him. My brother, at least, in my eyes.

"Then why aren't you telling Bertrand that?" She asked him, "You stupid boy? You, with the whole world set at your feet, while he serves it to you?"

"I share my things with him!" Andy protested, "And it's not fair! I know! I tell Father that all the time! What do you want me to do about it, Woman?" He retorted.

"Do anything about it, Andreas," she said coldly, "Tell him, for starters," She pointed at me.

I'll never forget the look on Andy's face when he turned to face me that evening. I'd never seen him after a cry like that, mainly because he'd never had much reason to cry.

"Bertie, I 3; I hate it, the way they treat you. I hate it that you got gelded, when I didn't. It's not fair! I 3;I think it looks nice," he kept glancing at Miss Morgana nervously, "And I wish 3; I wish 3; I wish I could be like you lot. I see you all out there, when I'm in here, and I wanna be there too! But I can't. I wish I didn't have this stupid hot hair," He touched my fuzzy scalp and rubbed it, "Or have to wear hot, itchy clothes! I hate it that they hit you, or don't think you have a birthday, or don't talk to you nice, or no one ever gets you presents."

"You do," I interrupted him. "And I knew it, Andy."

"But it helps to hear it?" Miss Morgana pressed us both, still armed with the spoon, "It's funny, isn't it, Andreas? You, the Firstborn Noble, jealous of your slave boy?"

"All he has to do is follow me around!" Andy protested, "What's so hard about that?"

"He has other chores," Miss Morgana waved the spoon again, and Andy whimpered and flinched. It wasn't often that he got called down like that, but for his father.

"I 3;I could have you 3; beheaded!" He warned her, "For beating me!"

And Miss Morgana laughed at him. "Then you'll all starve!" She retorted, "Gods know your mother can't cook!" She kept looking from him to me and back again. "So, what are you going to do about it?" She repeated, "If it's so unfair that Bertie is a slave?"

"Make it fair?" Andy wondered.

And she finally smiled at us. Gods, I'd hate to think what she'd have done to him, had that been the wrong thing to say!

"Bertie, I'm so sorry," Andy started crying again, so I just hugged him until he was over it. "I 3; I don't know what to do about it, but I'll think of something! I didn't know … I thought we'd both be … I mean, I knew it'd hurt, but 3;? All the slaves are eunuchs, and you're my … brother," he finally got it out. "Why didn't you tell me, Bertie?"

"Just don't try to geld yourself, or you'll bleed to death!" Miss Morgana warned us.

"We could get Armand to do it?" Andy wondered.

"NO!" She repeated.

"I could order him to?"

"NO!"

"He's technically my slave?"

"NO!"

WHACK!

"OWWWWW!" Andy wailed, as the spoon hit his backside again.

"I think she means, short of cutting your glands off, what else can you do?" I offered.

I guess that was when he started having ideas. "Bertie, I love you!" He smiled.

"I know," I reminded him, and I didn't hesitate to tell him how much I loved him. Maybe it's easier for children to say it at such an age, I don't know. I never had a problem with it, but I know that a great many do – especially men.

Miss Morgana was putting some salve on Andy's badly beaten backside and hands when his father came in. He stopped in the doorway, wondering why his son was stretched out naked on a countertop, and why he was in need of such care.

"She beat me with a wooden spoon, Father," Andy told him, sounding nervous, yet petulant. I wondered if he were really going to try and have her punished?

"Well, you probably deserved it," was all the Master had to say about that, winking at me and Miss Morgana, "I suppose that from now on, I should beat you instead of Bertie when you make a mistake? It's been a while since the eating-at-the-table incident?"

Andy just gaped at him.

"I don't like how people treat Bertie, Father," Andy then informed him.

Looking back, I suppose that those words were the catalyst in the ongoing battle between Andy and his father. In a way, I think, he was giving his son permission to push the limits, to see just how far he could take his quest for fairness. Honestly, for all those years, I think they both enjoyed it.

"Then you should do something about it, son," was all the Master had to say about it. Poor fellow, I don't think he counted on Andy's radical solution, however!

That night, after carefully getting Andy situated in bed, face down, I joined him as I always did. I had my own bed in his room, but I never used it. We cuddled up together, and as long as he wasn't on his backside, he was all right. He kissed me, which wasn't odd, in that we did that every night. Once. This time, though, he just held me like he thought I was going to disappear, or something. He told me he loved me. He told me again how sorry he was about everything. And he promised to do something about it.

Then he cried again. We both did.

He never let me go all night. In the morning, we were still cuddled up together. I thought it was funny that his prick, which was just the same as mine, was stiff. His usually was in the mornings, and mine had been, too – until they'd gelded me. Mine was just limp, pulled back, and looking pretty much like a bump with a bit of a tip. I didn't know it then, but mine would never get any bigger, or ever get stiff again.

That next day, Andy managed to stick his head in a bucket of tar that Armand and the boys were using to coat a shed's roof. Andy had to have his head shaved clean over that, and when he was done, he didn't put his tunic back on. Not long after, he and his father had the argument that led to Andy's getting his own worker's collar and his extended exile to the slaves' quarters.

I think the only thing that could have made him happier was getting himself gelded, but of course, that didn't happen then.

And I couldn't have loved him more for what he did.

***

That argument with the Master, of course, had been going on for just about four years, with no sign of ending. Andy's change of lifestyle was what made him more friendly to Wolfram, though, and eventually led to our adopting him. I think it was because Andy thought that we ought to have a friend, or maybe he just felt sorry for Wolfram. Or he was jealous of him. I've never asked. I'm just glad that Andy did the right thing by Wolfram. While I'm sure that Wolfie's cousin, Zach, would have taken good care of him, I don't really think our new brother could have survived a duty rotation to the Borders of the Hinterlands. I just can't see Wolfie climbing mountains, can you?

So, right up until Menas and Felix joined our work crew in the spring that we all turned twelve, Andy continued going out of his way to make sure that he was treated just the rest of us working boys. He kept his head shaved. He wore a collar. He didn't wear clothes, if he didn't have to. He almost always had us eat with Armand and the others. (Armand was a better cook, anyway!) To this day, I don't think he's ever let go of the eat-at-the-table incident.

And when something went wrong, Andy took a thrashing just like any one of us would have. His example, however, certainly gave our two newest Noble recruits some pause.

"You mean you live like this, because you like it?" Felix exclaimed one night, as he was being "boiled" in Armand's bathtub after a hard day's work of overhauling a pig pen.

Andy nodded. "And because it's fair," he added, nodding at me.

"Only thing that'd make him happier, would be getting gelded," Eryk teased him, giving Andy a playful punch to the arm and getting one back. Eryk was nearly fifteen by then. He'd begun to grow up into what the Master called "reedy". He was a good head, maybe a head and a half, taller than us by then. Working hard had made him more muscular, of course, but he still wasn't built like Mattias, or any of the other slaves who'd been gelded after their onset of manhood. That, and his prick was still as tiny as the day he'd been gelded. I'd noticed that Andy's had gotten just a bit bigger, though - further proof of how different we were.

Andy just sighed. He didn't talk about it much any more, but I knew he still wanted it. Now that we fully understood the laws, though, and adding in that if Ephraim ever decided to become Elise again, that Andy would probably end up marrying her to save both Estates. For Andy, I think becoming a eunuch was now just a dream. That, or it was something to do with his strong sense of right and wrong. After all, besides his father, he was now the only intact male there on the Estate.

"Not every boy can be so blessed, to become a eunuch when he is young," Armand told us, as he hoisted Felix out of the tub and threw Menas in. Both of them recently gelded as well, they'd taken away some of the stigma from being a Noble eunuch and made things much easier for Wolfram. Not to mention very much pleasing our eunuch Instructor, John, although the lot of the Noble eunuchs still took some teasing. Then again, it was pretty well known that if you bothered Wolfie too much, Andy would pummel you. He still had the reputation for not liking much of anyone at school, remember, and Menas and Felix were still half-scared of him.

Remember the routine I'd mentioned? That was part of it. With all of us washed up at day's end, we'd gather around the round table in the barn and settle in for lessons with Armand after our day's work. Since it was spring, and with so much work to do, John excused us from school more often. He did, however, drop by a great deal. After all, his prized eunuch students were all working, and he was most impressed with Armand's vast knowledge of well 3;everything! The cooking helped, too, I'm sure.

"Armand, why aren't you the head cook?" John would always ask.

"Ol' Armand has too much to do with these boys," he'd always answer. "Turn your back on them, and they run off to go swimming or something!"

"Certainly not?" John would joke, "Fine, young eunuchs with such reputations as these?"

"What's that?" Menas wondered, which set both John and Armand into explaining it.

"Sir, how old were you, if I may, when you were gelded?" Eryk asked John, as John and Armand had been on the subject of Menas and how his gelding seemed to have vastly improved his outlook on things. "What I mean, sir, is with respect to your homeland's part of the Empire?"

"I understand, boy," John nodded to him, always anxious to test Eryk and Dieter, for the sake of his ongoing studies into Common, Noble, and Peasant stock eunuch boys. "Nearer to the Straits, and over across and into the Eastern Empires, it's not uncommon to geld babies. It's more common to geld and circumcise them when they're a bit older, but certainly not customary to wait until age eight as they do here, Eryk." John sighed. "I wish half my students were as inquisitive as you and Dieter!"

"But not so far east as my homeland," Armand added, "There are those not far my home that are shocked by the idea of gelding one's own sons, but who have no problem with eunuchs at large."

And so we had an evening of studying the gelding rituals of various regions in the area, and finding each land on John's map. He'd gotten a copy from Zach's military unit, so it was a pretty accurate one.

"And of course, the harem eunuchs must also have their pricks removed, no matter their age," Armand reminded us, which made Andy squirm. I figured that he probably had a stiff prick hiding under the table.

"And not just good for guarding the harem," John added, grinning, "These exotic members of the Third Sex, neither male nor female."

"What's that mean?" Little John asked, from his usual location on Armand's lap. Recall that Elias had gone off with Zach's military unit that year as a Page in Wolfram's place, and Little John was lost without him. There could be no doubt, though, that the boy was Armand's son. He might not have had it on a legal document, but our Overseer made it obvious that Little John was there to stay. While Armand was fond of all of us, it was clear that he loved that boy more than anything else. Andy thought it might have been because Little John had almost died of his gelding. Wolfie thought it was because he'd lost Elias, who'd taken him in when they'd both been struggling Peasants. As for me, I thought it was because Armand had, perhaps, always wanted a son. That, and having been a Military Page in his own early years, Elias' leaving had affected him as well. More and more, Armand regaled us with his bedtime stories being ones of his own early years. His favorites were of the time when he'd been just our age, and going into battle with his Master in the skirmishes with the black tribes from the Far South, 'Af-ri-kahhh', as Armand called it.

"Nothing was more prized in my homeland, than an Afrikan boy, the younger, the better – and with his stones and prick all cut off!" Armand would tell us, "Prized by the men to guard their women, and to share their beds when the women were unable or unwilling. Skin so black that it shone almost blue in the light, and dazzling when adorned in shackles of polished bronze."

"We just have leather wrapped iron," Little John sighed, holding up his wrists. Keep in mind, we only rarely had need of shackles and chains for problem slaves. Little John, though, you'll recall, wasn't "all there in his head", as Armand called it. He liked wearing shackles, he said, because it made him feel safe, and that no one could come and steal him if he were chained to his bed at night. He needn't have worried about that, though, as he was more often in Armand's bed than in his own.

Of course, John the Instructor had to have three whole pages about his namesake for his treatise, in the section about young Peasant eunuchs. There was even a paragraph or two about Armand's gallant efforts to save the small boy's infected prick via circumcision, instead of simply removing the diseased organ.

"It would have been all right, though, if he'd cut it off, sir," Little John told him.

"It's not as if you really notice a eunuch boy's prick," I had to add, as I hadn't had mine get stiff in over three years. Given a cold bath, or a dip in the stream, and it would appear as I didn't even have one.

And so that was our course of study for the night, ending in Andy being embarrassed by telling our Instructor all about his continuing development as an intact Noble boy who worked. John, of course, measured him all over. Even his ears and the bridge of his nose.

"Sir, can't you study Simeon, Charles, or some of the others?" Andy protested.

"I could, but they don't work like you and Manuel do," our Instructor reminded him, noting the length of Andy's erection and how his foreskin peeled back from the tip just a bit.

"You're getting pretty big, Andy!" Dieter congratulated him, noting that Andy's prick was, in fact, double the size of ours.

"He's still several inches away from being capable of penetration," our Instructor pointed out, "But all seems well, yes, thank you, Andreas."

Andy blushed deeper and sat back down.

"What's pene-ter-ration, sir?" Little John wondered.

"Mating, like the animals do, to make babies," John the Instructor informed him, "You didn't know?"

"You mean people do it like the animals do?!" Little John gasped, looking shocked.

That was the end of our lesson. The rest of the night was spent teaching Little John about the "cows and the pigs," as Armand called it.

"So you see, child, being cut like you were, you won't ever be able to do that," Armand told him, as he was dismissing us to go to bed. With Menas and Felix there, Andy and I would be sleeping in the house in our room, together, with Wolfram taking over the bed that I never used.

"I don't think I'd want to do it, sir!" Little John shook his head, as he was sent off to clean his teeth and the visit the outhouse.

"Goodnight, boys," Armand reminded us, as Andy took our Instructor's pack from me and carried it into the house for him.

As Wolfram seldom used his own room, and John had come calling unexpectedly, he would be taking Wolfram's bed.

"Lowering yourself with this rabble?" The Master joked, as we met him on the stairs.

"You are truly blessed with such fine boys, sir," John bowed slightly to him.

"You mean 'cursed,' don't you?" The Master laughed, but he did roughly hug us all, knocking mine and Andy's head together under one arm. "If you'll excuse me, sir? I have work to do in my study, and the boys will show you on up?"

As Wolfram's room was just opposite ours, we brought our completed schoolwork to John before we had the chance to forget about it. Already clean and naked, and having had our day's work done, we were more than ready, and had only to fall into bed.

"Andreas, is something wrong?" John asked, as we bade him goodnight.

Andy blushed again, and when he turned, I could see that his prick was stiff again. It wasn't nearly so large as a grown man's, but it was certainly getting larger.

"I see," John observed, having cataloged just about everything there was to know about our development for his treatise. He touched Andy's cheek. "No signs of a beard, Andreas, and you're just twelve years old? It will likely be a few more years, at least, before you begin to show full signs of manhood. Of course, your male parts will be the first bits of you to develop."

"It's bothersome, sir," Andy admitted, "I hate it when I do this, and I can't seem to control it."

"Such is the complaint of man and boy the world over, until he figures out why," John replied cryptically, "And many a holy man, no matter his faith, is perplexed by it." He paused. "Andreas, if I may, and I assure you that I will not share it?" Andy nodded at him, as if knowing what he'd ask: "Andreas, as your brothers and friends are all eunuchs, do you wish to be one as well?"

"I did, sir, yes," Andy admitted, pausing again, "And I suppose, sir, that 3;yes, I still do. I can't, though," he went on, as if now that he'd admitted it, he felt that he had to explain it. "I can't inherit the Estate, or produce an heir, if I'm gelded. And Miss Elise expects me to marry her, as she has no brother," Andy just let it all spill out, "I've always thought Bertie and Wolfie, and the lot of them, to be the lucky ones, sir. I was so jealous of Bertie when he was gelded."

John seemed nonplussed by this confession, though. He simply nodded knowingly. "There are more boys that wish to be eunuchs, than one can imagine," he reminded us, "And as Armand said, not all young boys can be so blessed. I myself was delighted to submit to the Gelder's knife when I was a lad."

Wolfram winced. "I wasn't one of them, sir," he reminded us, and John hugged him. Of the lot of us, Wolfram still needed the most reassurance. He still does.

"How can a boy of such beauty be so ashamed of his gelding?" John asked him, "A eunuch such as you, who puts girls to shame, or drives men mad with desire?"

Wolfram blushed. Keep in mind that he'd had sexual relations with his cousin, and perhaps other men, although he seldom mentioned it – and then, only Zach.

"Barbarian, you mean, sir?" Wolfram sighed.

"Boy, your strange countenance is the very source of your beauty," John assured him, "Further east, there are men of power who would give piles of gold to possess you, and keep you locked away all for themselves!"

"He's not a slave, not for sale, and neither is Bertrand, in my book!" Andy exclaimed, "Sorry," he added hastily, having spoken out of turn to John.

"No, as they're your brothers, Andreas," John reminded him. "Part of being a man, and you are becoming a man, Andreas, is this protective instinct. Not gelded, you already show the signs of being an excellent father. Your devotion to Bertrand in years past is proof of that, as was your challenge to Wolfram's father this past autumn.

"You're bothered," John went on, "By these odd feelings that you're beginning to have, Andreas?"

Andy blushed deeper.

"While you may be years away from beards and babies," John offered, "There is a tonic that I can instruct your Miss Morgana to make, which may offer you some relief. It is said to quell these urges, and while not nearly as effective as gelding, it might help. You see, Andreas, it is widely believed in the East, that if a boy is encouraged to follow these urges, that such behaviour only hastens his development into a man."

"I'll grow up, and they'll only grow taller, sir," Andy then glanced at Wolfie and me.

To this day, I still remember the pain in his yes.

Andy was frightened.

It was quite the contrast: Andy afraid of becoming a man, Wolfram ashamed that he could not, and me having long since accepted my position as the eunuch slave who never would.

I think John must have realized it then. "Bertrand, you didn't want to be gelded, did you?"

It was the first time I remember actually saying it to an adult. Of course, I'd told Andy, but he was different. In fact, it was the first time I ever remember an adult asking me. After all, what free Noble cared if his eunuch slave liked being a eunuch?

"No, sir," I admitted, and Andy looked away, "When I was little, I was ashamed. Now that I understand what I am, sir, no offense, it's all 3;"

" 3;so unfair," Andy finished my sentence, as we retired to bed.

"Quite the perspective?" John mused, as he bade us all goodnight and closed the door.

The Winter Celebration sneaks up on our heroes, and a trip into the wilds to gather decorations results in a startling find

So now you know all about how I came to have such a unique upbringing. How we came to have such a unique upbringing.

Bertrand and I.
Me and Bertie.
Just like it's always been.

So where were we, before Bertrand cleared up all of that?

We'd adopted Wolfram. We'd trained (but not gelded) Manuel and even made a new friend of him. We'd taken in Elias and Little John, and then sent Elias on as a Military Page with Wolfram's cousin, Zach. We'd been teaching Elise, as Ephraim, about how to be a boy. We'd facilitated the geldings of Felix and Menas, and trained them as well. We spent our days at school, or working, and as Bertie said, paid little attention to the passage of time. And just as he also said, one day was pretty much like another - they all seemed to run together for us.

The year we were twelve, and I began having more serious concerns about growing up, the Winter Celebration had sneaked up on us. After all, we had new boys to train. John, our Instructor, was ever busy with studying us for his ever-lengthening treatise, and there were things like Harvest Season and Gelding Days to see to.

I have to say, however, that all of what Bertrand just told you, he'd told me just as he'd recited it here. I just hadn't wanted to reopen an old wound. I'm surprised that he did. I supposed that he needed to, though, and I'm glad that he did. You can probably understand better why I was so ferociously protective of him, and why it bothered me so that (slave boy or not) he was treated as he was.

While it would take years for his confessions to have an effect upon my fascination with gelding, it eventually did. The older we grew, the more the allure of Gelding Day seemed to lessen for me. True, I enjoyed it. If you'll recall, Bertrand's gelding was the catalyst for my obsession. I suppose it's safe to say that his confessions to me – after my thrashing by Miss Morgana shortly after Bertie had healed up – did give my eight-years-old self some perspective on the subject. As I was a young boy, though, I suppose that I rationalized it as being all right – so long as I took care of Bertrand, and those geldings weren't his. Well, obviously, a boy could only be gelded once! You know what I mean? I was still fascinated with gelding, fantasized about being gelded myself, up to a certain point.

I guess it was Bertrand's confession to our Instructor that really stopped me in my tracks that night. Other than me, I don't think anyone had ever given Bertrand even a second thought about his gelding. He was a slave, he was my slave, and he was a eunuch. It was just the order of things. We had a system, and Bertrand and I were parts of it. I was the Noble master, he was the slave. While I'd always seen it as unfair, at least to Bertrand, it was his admission of shame and wishing that he'd not been forced into being a eunuch that really … how would Armand say it? It was like having a bucket of cold water thrown on me:

It was the first time I remember actually saying it to an adult. Of course, I'd told Andy, but he was different. In fact, it was the first time I ever remember an adult asking me. After all, what free Noble cared if his eunuch slave liked being a eunuch?

"No, sir," I admitted, and Andy looked away, "When I was little, I was ashamed. Now that I understand what I am, sir, no offense, it's all 3;"

" 3; so unfair," Andy finished my sentence 3;

Looking back, I can honestly say that that was when my confusion began to set it. When we were little, it seemed that my pledge to Bertrand was enough to soothe the hurt of his gelding. We didn't understand it all back then, remember. But as we grew older, and I began to develop a bit (while the others didn't), I began to think about it more often. I'd always believed that Bertie was all right with being a eunuch, and he wasn't. More and more, that thought preoccupied me.

We'd been raised with eunuchs. A lot of eunuchs. My father is to thank for that, in his insistence that all the male slaves and Contract workers be eunuchs, regardless of age. For us, gelding was normal. For many years, as I've said, we didn't think much more about it as I worked to make things more fair to Bertrand.

Then we'd met Wolfram, and even before we'd rescued him from his father's devious plans, we'd come to learn that he was ashamed of being a eunuch. His family had even relocated thereafter to our Province. It was a stark contrast to our friends, Eryk and Dieter, who were both fine with it; Eryk especially. Manuel's outright fear of it contrasted my own fantasies. Menas, even though a Noble, was a 'spare son' who'd had the decision made for him by his family; it had frightened him, naturally, but in the end, he seemed fine with it.

Then there was Felix – my first gelding, albeit in an emergency situation. Felix had gone so far as harming himself in hopes of becoming a eunuch, so that the burden of his family's failing Estate could fall to one of his younger brothers and he could move on. Yes, dear Felix … add him into the mix, and it made for a confusing welter of gelded boys – and all with different attitudes about being eunuchs.

Poor John! And he was trying to write about all of this?

But where was I? Right – the Winter Celebration.

The year we were twelve, and Bertrand had made his confession to our Instructor, brought about a series of events that would forever change things for my brother and me.

And make no mistake, Bertrand was my brother, at least in my mind.

***

"So have you thought about what you'd like to do, or gifts you'd like for this Winter Celebration?" Father asked me one day, as I stood shivering, knee-deep in cold mud with some other slaves. We were digging a new shallow pond for the livestock, and I'd just managed to hit the water table. It was also much cooler outside. That might have been fun for a boy in the summer, but at that moment, I was truly miserable. To add insult to injury, Eryk and Dieter had just decided to finalize their digging of the feeder stream from the creek. In a surprise gush of ice-cold water, I floated up and over to the bank, to emerge covered in slimy dark mud and with teeth chattering so hard that I could barely speak.

Father laughed and gave me a hand up. It was the first time I remember seeing his hands dirty. "Son, why do you keep doing this? It's been years?" He asked, genuinely curious. I flexed my biceps at him and clenched my stomach, thinking myself tough.

"Because it's fair, Father," I told him, "I can't sit inside while Bertrand and my friends are out here working. Besides, you've seen the other Noble boys. They're all pale, soft, fat, and all of them just outright 3;"

"Pricks?" Father supplied. Funny, he'd developed a much better sense of humor since I'd embarked upon my ongoing 'punishment'. We laughed at that.

About my peers at school? Not much had changed in four years. No, I'd not call any of them my friend, save for Manuel, who was now much less popular since his time with us. As I said, they were all 3; pricks. They were still cruel to Bertrand, and cold to Wolfram, Felix, and Menas. As I said before, more than a few of them could have certainly benefited from a nice, slow gelding. Our Instructor noticed it, too, so it never got out of hand, fortunately.

Speaking of, here came Wolfram and Bertrand with hot tea and biscuits. I'd been arse-deep in mud, and they'd gone back to the house?

As I said, we didn't pay much attention to time. We had noticed the days growing shorter, though. It meant that we had to stop work earlier and earlier, but had more time for 'school' with Armand. Bertrand, Wolfram, and I had a routine, and we seldom deviated from it.

"Cold, aren't you?" Father asked. All three of us just stared at him.

Shall we talk about the weather? In our area, we only saw snow on the peaks of the distant mountains. Our Province wasn't warm all year long, but it was fairly temperate. That was not to say that we didn't have cold spells, or even frosts, but the best word to describe even the worst working days was "uncomfortable". A cloak keeps you pretty warm when you're working, but when you stop, you start to feel the cold. Even the old work boots that the slaves had didn't do much to keep your feet warm, and they only bothered with them on the worst days. Winter was for inside work, you see.

Yes, Winter Celebration had sneaked up on me that year. And while it may sound even more maudlin, I had Bertrand, Dieter, Eryk, Elias, John, and Wolfram. I couldn't think of anything more that I wanted. Well, there was one thing, but we didn't discuss that. There just wasn't a way to broach the subject. No way, that is, until we were rounded up and taken back to the slaves' quarters to clean off and warm up. The light was going, and Armand was calling it a day.

The slaves had a large metal tub, which was hauled out in the middle of the barn's room near the forge and filled with water to heat. In cold weather, the problem was that the tub itself heated to searing temperatures before the water fully heated. It made me think of a potato boiling in a pot. If you touched the sides, you got seared! And for us boys, it was bath time. Collars were removed from those wearing them, which was usually just me and Eryk. Me, to prove a point. Eryk, because 3; ? I supposed because he liked me. I don't ever remember seeing him working without his misspelled collar on. The tub was big enough to hold two of us, so while Bertrand and I soaked and tried to not get burned, Dieter cleaned my collar and oiled the lock. Wolfram wasn't dirty. We had to keep him away from the dangerous stuff, you see.

But as far as broaching that one subject? When I came up out of that icy water in the new pond, my bits were so shrunken that I looked like one of Armand's harem eunuchs from his tales of wonder: no prick or pouch! Father laughed again. I touched myself and gasped. My prick, hidden back inside my body, gave a little twitch. It didn't harden, though. It was too cold!

"Well, now don't you just look like the perfect, hard-working eunuch boy?" Father smiled at me. I suppose he read the look on my face? After all, I was the only boy working who had a pouch of glands.

"Father, it would be all right, if you said I 3;"

"NO!" Was the only reply he gave, and it was fast and firm.

"But what if I have a little brother, sir?" I kept on.

"No."

"Twins?"

"No."

"Another boy next year, then?"

Father had long since given up arguing with me. I think he must have been much the same way, because before he'd died, Grandfather had often called him things like "stubborn, hard-headed, willful, hard of hearing," and "always learnt the hard way!" So Father just rolled his eyes and groaned. He did that a lot with me.

"I'll make you a deal, son," he finally conceded, "When your glands begin to ripen and drop some, and your pouch expands, and when your prick begins to mature, we'll have a talk. Once I explain all the things that come with being a boy turning into a young man, and you start to feel the beginnings of some of those man's urges, let's call them, we'll discuss having you gelded. It's no secret that you think it's such a great thing," He held up a hand to silence me, as usual, "And I know that your friend, Wolfie is a eunuch." He called him that, because he liked him. He never admitted it, but he did. Just like he called the others "Bertie, Deet, and Rick." I never even knew that my mother's name was not "Woman" until I was like seven years old. Tell you anything?

It was much like Simon at school (not Sim e on, different boy) thinking his name was "Dammit Boy" until he was four.

Where was I? Right 3; our talk. Finally, we'd been able to just come out and say it: I wanted to be gelded, too. Fair was fair, right?

"But son, gelded boys miss out on a lot. I know that Rick has told you all sorts of things," Father sniffed, as if he didn't approve, but it did save him the chore of doing it. "I just don't want you to make a bad choice. You're twelve. You're hardly old enough to make that decision for yourself, and besides, there are plenty of years before you begin to change. I didn't get my first signs of it until I was nearly fifteen!"

"But Eryk decided when he was nine, sir?" I countered.

Father turned me over to Armand for my freezing rinse of the worst mud, and then dropped me into the tub with a great splash and hiss of steam. I singed my bottom on the side and yelped.

"Next thing, he'll want branded," Father groaned again.

"I'll hide the tools, sir," Armand assured him, as he set in to scrubbing my back. He laughed that rich laughter of his that always made things better. Then he yelled for the other boys to clean up the boots and wash the aprons and cloaks to hang by the forge.

Father was looking at Eryk, who only shrugged and grinned. At about fifteen, he hardly looked it. "Son, there is probably nothing in the world more beautiful than a gelded boy, I admit. The sight of Wolfie naked is enough to make a man faint, you know. But it's hardly commonplace for Noble boys, and it's a very life-altering decision."

"I know, sir," I reminded him. Father glared at Eryk, who made himself busy scrubbing boots.

Then he surprised me by kneeling at the tub and taking up the soap, scrubbing my short hair. We didn't get shaved in winter, and I had to admit, that was a good idea. It had been a long time since I'd shared his bath, and I guess I was now too old for it. When he was done, he tended to Bertrand. He'd never done that before. Bath time, when I was little, was our time alone. A servant would clean Bertrand, and when he was old enough, he shared my bath and cleaned me. Well, we cleaned one another. Fair is fair, even though I didn't think it was fair, when my little prickle would harden some at sight of Bertrand, with just his lonely little prickle down there with nothing under it.

"You're a beautiful boy, Bertie," he then told him, "And I'm sorry you've had the life you did. I wish it hadn't had to be that way."

Armand cleared his throat loudly, hoisting me out of the tub to wrap me in a rough towel made of an old feed sack. I went to sit near the forge, and check it. Father lifted Bertrand out, and did the same. I was surprised. So were the others.

Then he kissed Bertrand's cheek.

You'd have thought that he'd just ordered the beheading of one of us. Even the ponies and cows went still.

"Th-thank you, M-Master?" Bertrand just managed, as Father smoothed his hair and wrapped him up, his hand lingering just under Bertrand's lonely little prick. I don't recall ever having seen him touch Bertrand like that before.

"I'm sorry for that, too, son," Father added, and I'd never heard him call anyone but me that! "But, it will help keep you boyish and beautiful for many more a year, after your peers have all sprouted beards and gone off chasing girls."

"I promise, I won't, Master?" Bertrand answered him honestly. Then we all got the joke.

Father looked back at me. "If your mother has another boy, and if by the time your glands ripen," Father looked pained as he said it, right there in front of everyone, "You still want to pursue this madness, I'll have you gelded, son." He held up that finger again. I didn't even breathe. "BUT, only after we've had our talk and you get an idea of what you'll be missing!" He thought about it a bit longer. "And I've talked to your Instructor about it being all the rage in the city!"

I could only nod dumbly. Everyone was staring at me. Beneath my rough towel, my prick was throbbing so hard that it almost hurt. It felt tingly, too.

"Now I'd pay good money to see that!" Armand nodded at me, smirking.

"You get paid, sir?" Bertrand asked, genuinely confused. Sometimes, he didn't get the joke, or realize that he'd made one. "I don't?"

That was a good one. It was then Wolfram's turn for a bath. He'd never had a bath like that before. I don't think he much fancied ever having another one, either! He was a bit more coddled, you see.

We had another good laugh at that. Armand then put us to our lessons and began dinner. Father excused himself. On the way out, he watched us a bit longer, hiding in the shadows. But I knew he was there as Dieter got out our lesson books and quills. We all sat at the round work table, going over the alphabet. Spelling was difficult, you see. Mathematics was better. Numbers only did one thing each, while letters could do many things when put together.

"You know," I heard Father say, just before the door shut, "You could grace us with your Noble presence at-table a bit more often?"

Then he was gone.

"You really think he'll let you be gelded?" Eryk gasped.

"You mean you want to be?" Dieter added, stunned.

"It hurts," Bertrand reminded me. Wolfram agreed.

"Do you regret it?" I asked them all.

Eryk and Dieter didn't, but Bertrand wasn't sure what to think anymore.

We all knew how Wolfram felt about it. "It's your life," he told me, "But if I'd had my say about it, I'd rather have been left in one piece." I had to admit, that gave me pause. Poor Wolfram had a difficult time of it, you know. Even his old extended family had been unnerved by his eunuch status. Still, the idea was firmly entrenched in my young psyche.

It was just too bad that Mother wouldn't be delivered of her baby before Winter Celebration. At that time, I thought that being strapped to the Gelder's table and made a eunuch like my friends would be the best gift ever.

Just like my friends.

***

Much planning went into the Winter Celebration.

Animals had to be butchered for the feast, there was food to prepare, and schedules to keep. Even the slaves would have their own celebration in the smaller hall, in the house, while the contracted workers would all usually go home. It was once a year, after all. For days, the kitchen would be a bustle of activity as delicacies enjoyed only once a year were prepared.

In the village, Commoners and Nobles sought out gifts for one another. What the rural Peasants did, I had no idea. Decorations of evergreens were harvested and hung indoors, and we boys thoroughly enjoyed going out to hunt them. We picked baskets full of Stick-Shine leaves, which those farther west in the City (Grandfather had once told me) called "holly". Far up trees, one found mistletoe; we called it Sucker Berries. The plants sucked their sustenance from the host tree, and there was a custom of kissing a girl (if you were a boy) if you met her beneath it. Father said it was because women were looking for a husband to suck the life out of. Boughs were cut from different evergreens as well, and we loved to see how many different types of cones we could find. There was always a competition to find the biggest one.

Father always accompanied us on what he called "the hunt", that was to say, the hunt for the perfect tree to be cut and brought indoors for the month. All these traditions came from old customs to honour the birth of some alleged Sun God, we'd learned, but as to who "He" was, we had no idea. Father had never been much for the idea of religious instruction. We just liked the celebration. Armand thought "He" might be a legend of The Hunter, a grouping of stars that rose in the eastern sky and traveled west each night of winter. It contained the brightest star of all, and even a twinkling red one. Three normal stars in a row made "Him" easier to spot, by his belt, and everyone knew The Hunter in Winter.

That, and there were gifts!

Actually, the gifts were what was bothering me most that winter. They always had, as Bertrand never got any, recall. Never mind that what was mine was his, at least in my mind. It still hurt him, though; that much was clear. And I wanted to put a stop to that. I'd been working just as hard as he had for just over three years, yet nothing had changed.

All I had was a promise from Father that I didn't quite believe.

These were the thoughts that preoccupied my mind on the hunt for a tree, following along Father's fine white gelding on my little lazy pony. Actually, I was being contrary again. After a few minutes, I'd put Bertrand on him and I'd walked along with the others. I wasn't being too feisty, though. I'd dressed, no collar, and worn my leather boots and furry cap. I'd be all right, but I knew that Bertrand would be shivering by the time we returned. His hooded cloak and slave's boots just weren't enough, and I thought it cruel. Gods love him, though, he never once complained. (Besides, all that jostling made my glands ache!) Armand went, naturally, along with Dieter and Eryk. Wolfram had even been allowed him to come, riding on another pony. We also took two of the larger slaves, well-armed. Just in case. You never knew what you'd find on the fringes, after all. Wolves, mountain lions, robbers, even "Amorous Peasant women," Father added, "They'll get with child and claim that the brat's your responsibility!"

I suppose you see it coming, don't you? An adventure was inevitable, given our little crew. We'd ranged towards the lower hills all morning, but not so far as to make the mountains appear much larger. One day, we'd go and see them, I swore. Father said he'd been there once as a boy, and it was something that he wanted me to see. We still hadn't gone, though. Just like, I was beginning to think, I'd still not been gelded. I was thinking about this as I walked along, watching the vultures circling far away in the sky. Something was dead a ways up ahead.

We'd just stopped to have lunch in a grove of evergreens. Father was walking around studying trees as he ate his sandwich of cold meat and cheese, grunting and huffing and making a fuss over them. Armand was picking red and white mushrooms, and drying them at the campfire. He ordered us that they were not for our eating, though. Improperly prepared, he said, they could be fatal! We boys stuck with the ones that we knew – the sticky brown ones and half-buried white ones that one had to peel. Father had just selected the perfect tree, peering into its branches and shaking them, and calling for the ax when he jumped back, tossed his sandwich, and shouted.

We all looked up to see a short soldier standing there, dressed in a very grubby uniform under battered leaf armor. His boots were nearly ruined, the knees of his breeches out, and his band-coat torn in places. His shield was cracked, his helmet dented, and it sat atop a bloody bandage around his forehead. He wore a too-large curved short sword as his sidearm, along with two daggers, and a bow with quiver across his back. One arm was in a sling, and in his free hand he leaned on a Commander's staff.

But he was no soldier.

There was a jeweled golden collar around his neck, and gold rings in both of his ears. His eyes were dark, and his skin the color of newly varnished dark cedar wood. He wasn't too different in tone from Armand, who stiffened when he saw him. He might have been lighter, even, if he's not been so filthy. Still, he was not so dark as the rare blue-black slave boy we'd seen in Wolfram's home Province.

"What is a Page from the Fifth Legion doing here?" Armand wondered. The boy flinched back as Armand approached him. He said something in a tongue that we did not know, and the boy relaxed. Armand then raised his apron, and turned to bow slightly to Father. The boy relaxed.

"My name is Chadi," the boy then said, in our tongue, his voice breaking, "My master and I were on our way to his home Province, reassigned, when we were set upon by brigands." The boy paused. I guessed him to be near our age. He muttered something in that odd tongue again, then began to sob. Armand gathered him up and brought him near the fire.

"Runaway slave?" Father asked, but Armand shook his head.

"This is no ordinary slave, sir," Armand explained, pointing out the collar that must have been worth a fortune. "This is a high-ranking Commander's Page-boy. Given his race, I would gather that he was taken as a young lad, conscripted, gelded, and most likely kept by the man who took him? This collar alone would make anyone who found him more than likely behead him to get it, it is so valuable! No, he would never run away. To do so would be certain death!"

"Please make it f-fast, sir," Chadi choked, apparently thinking that we were going to do just that.

"No one is going to kill you, boy," Father assured him, but Chadi looked doubtful.

"Where is your Master, boy?" Armand demanded. "Speak! I am Armand, Overseer of this Estate upon which you are trespassing!"

I couldn't believe Armand to be so rude! This boy was clearly hurt and in need of help, to say nothing of his Master? Where was he?

His tone seemed to shock the boy back to coherence, though. "Dead, sir," Chadi mumbled, "Some days ago. I tried to 3; I tried 3;" But he began to cry again. Armand rocked him and loosened his armor.

"The bond between a boy like this and his Master is a powerful one," Armand informed us, just as he'd told in his tales of wonder, "I doubt if the boy even remembers his homeland and parents. To him, his Master is the only life he's ever known. If he is dead, then the boy's world has ended."

Armand moved him closer to the fire, offering him broth from the mushroom soup we'd been attempting to make. At least it was hot. He then crushed a drying, small red mushroom's cap into the cup, and the boy took it gratefully. I gasped. Was Armand trying to poison him?

"His pain will soon fade, he will sweat, and then he will sleep," Armand said, getting Chadi's heavy armor off, "And when he wakes, his mind will be not his own. He will not be of this world. He will be happy, though, and he will not suffer, should it kill him." Armand's hand was bloody as he drew it back. He tore the ruined coat to expose the tip of a broken arrow lodged in the boy's back.

Father sat down on a fallen tree trunk and groaned. He put his head in his hands. "A lost Military Page-boy? Wounded? Perhaps dying? Gods, the papers I'll have to write and file!"

"FATHER!" I exclaimed, "We have to DO something!"

"Well of course we'll do something!" Father countered, "We can't just leave him out here!"

"It is our duty to render aid to him, as a member of the Legion," Armand reminded Father.

"Armand, where does he come from? I've never seen his skin coloration before?" I just had to ask, as the boys struck camp and Father cut down his tree. He had to bind it up on the pack mule by himself.

"Far to the south of here, across the sea, then west. But north of the burning sands, below which are the black people," Armand explained, "His race is a mix of yours, Westerners, blacks, and even my race. They are a savage lot, and their men roam the seas in ships - pirates. The unit he serves with has been patrolling your border and the sea there for many years," Armand explained. How he knew these things, I didn't know. We were far from the City, after all, and news came from rare couriers at odd intervals.

"A message must be sent to the nearest garrison, Master," Armand went on, "Informing them. They will send someone for him."

"It could take a year to get word back, my friend. He's from the Fifth, his insignia says? The closest here in the City is the Second. It's a long, long way to the coast." Father replied. "In the meantime?"

"I will check his possessions," Armand pointed to the pack that Chadi had been carrying. "Perhaps we can learn his actual rank and position, and assignment. Someone to contact," He went on, as we prepared to get underway, "His Master's family, his unit, someone who must want him returned."

"Can you tie him to my pony, Armand?" I wondered, as Chadi had gone to sleep already.

But Armand shook his head. He bandaged Chadi's back wound, wrapped his head again, and then picked him up in those powerful arms of his: arms that either could break firewood without an ax, or give the gentlest hugs.

And he carried Chadi all the way home.

"So, what makes you think he didn't run away, killing his Master?" Father wondered, as we set out. It was clear that he'd been deep in thought. He'd not even said a thing about the boys sharing pony rides.

"Because I would not have done so," Armand answered coldly.

"The vultures, sirs," Bertrand offered, and he was right. "What if they were going to eat his Master's body, or whomever attacked them?"

"Sir?" I wondered, addressing Armand so out of habit.

"One cannot describe the bond between a Page-boy and Master," Armand explained, his voice soft and odd. His eyes scanned the horizon, filling, I thought. "Never mind his prized collar. We will see if he has documents, and his rank. No, no Page would do murder to seek his freedom. It would be folly. He'd have his head cut off for the collar, the jewels torn out, the collar melted down into gold bars. And given his little uniform, even boots and armor, his earrings, and from the look of his smooth hands, someone loved him very much." Armand bid me touch one, and it was soft and without callouses. This boy clearly did not work. He didn't awaken, but his hand did close around mine.

"His life is an easy one. I would guess him a scribe, messenger, perhaps spy. He was, no doubt, his Master's prize, and love." Armand sniffled. He did that sometimes. "This boy would have sooner slit his own throat than see harm come to his beloved Master."

No one said anything for a long time.

"You know how that is, don't you, Armand, sir?" Bertrand finally asked.

Armand only nodded. We were almost home when he finally answered. "The pain of my gelding and leaving my homeland was nothing 3; nothing 3; compared to being torn from my Master!"

Servants came rushing from the house, and we could already smell wonderful things being cooked. It was a while to the Celebration, but the cooks had to practice. The first puddings and souffles were usually disasters that even we (and the dogs) wouldn't eat. But no one was interested in food. Father nodded to Armand, but grabbed my arm as we all made to follow him to the slaves' quarters.

"Physician?" Father asked, but Armand shook his head.

"I have tended worse, many a time," Armand replied, "There is no time to ride for help. I will tend to him, and he may yet live."

More than anything, I wanted to go with Armand and the others. But Bertrand and I were told to bring in the tree and cuttings and to stay out of Armand's way. Then we put the horses up after tending them. We got only glimpses of what Armand was doing, but it was enough. We lingered as long as we could. Father knew we would, I was sure. He didn't complain when we returned to the house, but we were scolded over the state of my clothing and Bertrand's cloak and boots. Then we were ordered to the bath. Once warm and clean again, and fed, we were put to bed with a fire blazing in my little hearth.

Neither of us slept much that night.

Neither of us could get the bloody image of Chadi out of our minds.

Armand had laid the boy out on the round table in the barn, he would later tell us, just like any of his thrilling tales of wonder. He carefully cut the seams of the uniform, his hands precise for being so large. Chadi whimpered as Armand cleaned his wounds, but didn't wake up fully. As Eryk and Dieter carefully washed him, minding his head, Armand painstakingly took a needle and thread and began stitching the wound in Chadi's back. He called for alcohol from the brewing room, and another slave brought it to cleanse the wounds.

He's cried out once when Armand had pulled the broken arrow, lucky in that it had lodged in his shoulder blade and missed his important blood vessels. With the worst wound stitched, Armand then unwrapped his head. He fetched his razor, carefully shaving around the deep cut he found on the boy's scalp so that he could stitch it. But he did not shave his entire head of wavy, black hair.

As he gently placed the boy on his side to examine him further, peering at his bottom, then spreading his buttocks, he only nodded. He cleaned him down there, and as he did, we could see that Chadi was a eunuch. He could have served in Armand's harem tales: Chadi had no pouch, no glands, of course, and no prick. He must have been cut very young, years ago, as he was well-healed with a faded scar of pinkish-brown at his smooth groin. There was no sign that he'd ever been a boy, save for that scar.

"Someone did beautiful work on him long ago," Armand whispered, perhaps to himself, touching Chadi's faded scar, "A highly skilled Gelder. His piss-hole is good, I doubt his wound even festered. This boy would be worth twice his weight in gold bars on the slave market."

"Sir?" Dieter asked, "Shall we look for a key to his collar?"

"No, child," Armand answered, "Just wash behind it. Gently." Even in his semi-conscious state, Chadi was able to take some water mixed with what was left of Eryk's pain tonic and Father's best alcohol.

Once clean, Armand put Chadi, face-down, in his own bed. He would later tell us that even though the boy had not awakened by morning, that he had wet the bed. That was a good sign, Armand said. He kept the boy heavily covered, and despite his long day, Armand did not sleep that night, Eryk and Dieter would tell us that next day.

***

We had to get this information from them, as Bertrand and I were ordered to take horses and ride to fetch John, our Instructor, who would be having holidays with us. I was forced back into those itchy clothes, back into being a Noble, but arrived at a decent time with my pleased Instructor. He and Mother and Grandmother gave Bertrand and I a look as the ladies headed into their parlor with the eunuch.

"Maybe he'll expel us?" I hoped, as we headed for the barn. I changed clothes first, though. Or rather, changed out of them. It wasn't that cold out, and a cloak and collar were enough for me. They were enough for Bertrand, after all.

Chadi didn't awaken that day, however. We sorted his pack, and found the remains of his Master's uniform. If he'd had papers, they been stolen or lost. Only one scrap remained, confirming the boy's name and assignment: Fifth Legion, Commander's Page. Chadi. He hadn't been lying. He also had ragged documents about his unit, many of them eunuchs as well.

Upon inspecting his weapons, Eryk found his quiver empty, but the bow intact. It was gouged on the shaft. One dagger was nicked and bloody, and Chadi's sword had a bad gouge in the blade. He hadn't gone down without a fight, it appeared.

"He would be trained in the art of war," Armand agreed, but that was all he said.

"The vultures," I reminded him, "You think he 3; ?"

"If he and his Master had not killed whomever set upon them, this boy would not be here," Armand agreed. "Even the vultures must eat, boys!" He laughed, surprising us, "And may they feast well!"

The symbols on Chadi's collar were engraved into the gold coating, and given the workmanship, it must have taken a long time to make. Never mind its value. One would have thought that the maker must have had access to his own goldmine? Those symbols also confirmed Chadi's name, that he was a eunuch (obviously), and a Legion Page. It also stated that he was a slave.

"We have no choice but to notify the authorities," Father told us, "He's a missing slave. Someone will want him back."

"Sir, I cannot find his key," Eryk fretted, "How can we remove his collar?"

"Perhaps I can pick the lock?" Wolfram offered, "I've gotten good at that, escaping home, you know?"

"Do that. I'll compose a letter," Father went on, "Armand, you rest for a day. Tend to him. I really don't want a Legion Page dying on us! You can take the letter to the Council when you go into the village, on the way when Dieter and Eryk and the other Contracteds go home for the holiday."

That reminded me that Dieter had never once asked to go home since coming to us. No one ever asked him, and Armand told us not to. Contracted as he was, Dieter was free to do so once a month. He'd just never done it, though. He looked nervous about it, too.

"Don't you want to go home, see your family, Deet?" Father wondered, "Take them some money you've earned?"

"No, sir!" Dieter promptly answered. We all just stared at him. His face softened. "They won't miss me," he finally explained, "Like you said, sir – they sent me here with no time for a contract. If they need me, they'll come. But I'd like to. However?" He seemed to be about to cry. I found it funny, back then, how he could be angry with them, and yet still want to see them, all at the same time.

"The robbers," Armand nodded, "If there was a gang of them this close to the Estate, they could be out on the roads. We should notify the authorities."

"Armand, I have a feeling you won't leave our foundling Page?" Father asked. Armand nodded. "Fine, then! Assign two armed men to take the boys home. Use the coach, armed heavily. Once they're all safely home, the men may return for your feast. There's plenty of time. Boys, we'll come and fetch you two days after."

You should probably realize how unusual that was. Father was sending our apprentices home under guard, in the coach. With weapons. Anyone else would have a runaway scenario, there.

"Sir, being in the village, I can return safely on my own with a livery horse," Eryk offered, "Father would love to see what I do, sir? He could bring some men?"

"Very good," my Father agreed, "Do that. Deet?"

"C-can't a man just take my pay to my brother, Master? I got no need of it, sir," Dieter almost begged, "I 3; I don't want to leave you, sir!" He sniffled, but glanced at the door to his room, which was little more than a cell with two beds and a small window. We didn't bring it up, but Dieter was frightened.

Father nodded. He knew that Dieter had it much better here, but no one faulted him for being selfish. His aunt and brother would get the money. They'd sacrificed a lot to have him gelded, and from what Father said of the Peasant class, they would not be apt to risk the eunuch's safety for a simple visit. If Dieter's home were remote enough, someone could grab him and resell him. His money would be enough, for his family, and knowing that he was safe. I saw Father put a large silver coin into the pouch of coppers. He never mentioned it, nor did I.

"I will see that this gets to your family," Eryk promised him, as Dieter wrote out directions to his old home place. Yes, it was remote.

***

With all the Contracteds going home, the slaves preparing for their own holiday, and Armand tending to Chadi, that left me, Bertrand, and Wolfram to head back to the house and try to keep a low profile. Guests would be coming soon, including my grandparents from Mother's side, and maybe even an odd uncle with his brood. I hoped not. That, and we had a full schedule of holiday rounds to make – the usual fare of the Nobles trying to impress one another before the big day.

I wondered what my own extended family might think of Bertrand, Wolfram, and the lot. Then again, I was fairly sure that I didn't care. I was reminded of what Father had said about beautiful boys, gelded boys, and after all, what did we know of that? Only what Eryk had told us, and when we thought about it, it made our heads spin. It made Bertrand nauseous, made me curious, and made Wolfram giggle like silly little girls do sometimes.

"Out with it, then!" I told Wolfram, after he'd chatted a bit with Mother, Grandmother, and our instructor, John. Oh yes, Wolfram was perfect in every way, doing so much better, looking so well now, the proper little Noble gentleman 3; I could have vomited, the way he ate it up and played them.

And yes, the old bat liked Wolfram. She still hated Bertand, but she liked my adopted, eunuch brother?

"It may be unseemly to mention it in front of ladies," John said, "But as I've always claimed, Young Wolfram's last, desperate treatment seems to have greatly benefited his health!"

What was benefiting his health, I wanted to shout at them, was the exercise and good food that he was getting from us! Gelding, indeed? And, of course, that led to them and a few other visitors getting all sappy over "poor little Wolfram".

I was, of course, a savage who'd rather roll with the pigs and run around naked all day long.

What could I say? Grandmother was right. Nasty old bat. I'm sure that Grandfather was happy to be dead!

Where was I? Oh yes, Wolfie knew something?

"Out with what?" Wolfram smiled, a sure sign he knew something. He just watched Bertrand building up the fire, and me putting his collar away. "I can't help it, if they like me better than you?"

"Not THAT, you silly goose! And you know it's all right!" I told him, "What are you giggling about?"

Bertrand gasped. His jaw dropped. "Did you do something like what Eryk told us?"

Recall that Wolfram was a year and a few months older than us. They knew things, you see, these older boys. So just what had Eryk told us, you ask? I'm glad you did.

Firstly, he'd told us about a man and woman having sexual relations to make a baby. That we understood from having seen the animals do it. Then he'd explained eunuchs to us, and why he'd wanted to be one. Some time later, he'd explained how men could have sex with other men, eunuchs, or boys. Some men preferred eunuch boys. Some preferred them much more!

We'd thought it was all disgusting!

The things you learn working with older boys, you see?

"A man's prick up your bottom?!" Bertrand gasped, "That's awful!"

"What if you had to GO?" I wondered.

We were naive, remember?

"Well, you have to clean it first," Eryk explained, "With a small infusion."

Infusions were bad enough when you were sick or couldn't "go", we knew. We'd had them often enough. Still, we were both shocked and wondered why.

Eryk just shrugged. "For men, and older boys, it feels really good. So my older brother tells me," he then admitted, "That's why some families have so many children. Bet that's why Wolfram's father has all those women. He must really like to do it!"

"But that's with women!" I protested.

"And a lot of men like boys and eunuchs," Eryk shrugged, "Especially eunuch boys! They don't get pregnant, remember?"

"But doesn't it hurt you?" I asked, not realizing at that moment that Eryk was speaking from experience.

"No, well, yes, a little at first. But when you get used to it, it feels really good for the boy getting it, too!"

You might say that was when the spark hit the tinder. I remember that we just sat there and stared at him, mouths hanging open and eyes wide. Our reaction was not serene at all: AIGH! We both yelled, which brought a few of the older slaves running, thinking we'd been hurt. They laughed when Eryk explained what had happened.

"They're a bit young," our usual coachman, Mattias, told him.

"I wasn't suggesting that they try it right now!" Eryk told him.

"Who would they try it with?" Mattias laughed.

He had a valid point, there! Other than my father, there wasn't anyone around who could make his prick stiff enough to shove it into a boy's bottom.

"Your brothers do that to you, don't they? When you go home?" I reasoned. Remember, I was an intelligent boy! Just don't ask my old instructor, all right?

Eryk's face turned pink. He nodded and grinned a silly grin. "You can't just go right out and DO it, though," he explained further, "You have to be prepared for it, or you can get hurt really bad. After you get a cleansing, you have to get used to having a dilator in you. It gets your bottom ready, and used to it. That way, you don't tear and bleed." Of course, he explained dilators. They were small, conical devices, smooth and polished, but not too large, that were put up a boy's bottom and left in there for a while before he was to take a man's prick. If the boy had never done it before, the dilators were quite small and were replaced over time with larger ones to stretch him.

And come to think of it, as a contracted worker, Eryk never missed a chance to go home. In fact, his father and brother had come out a few times to fix things that our slaves couldn't. Like the time I tore up the anvil.

Yes, I know 3;

"You LIKE it?!" We both squeaked in surprise.

"There's something up inside of a boy that isn't bothered by gelding," Eryk explained, "I don't know what it is. I just know that it feels really good when a dilator, or a man's prick, rubs on it. You get this feeling, that's like 3; well? There's nothing like it, all right? You just have to do it to know about it!"

What was that, that Father had said about beautiful boys that could make men faint?

"And men really like it when you suck their pricks," Eryk went on, which was enough to make us want to vomit. Literally. The idea of that juice coming out in your mouth? Swallowing it? What if they pissed in your mouth? "It tastes good," Eryk added, "And they won't piss on you! It's nice when someone sucks yours too, whether you're a eunuch or not. It kinda tickles, and feels all tingly inside." He hugged himself. "Besides, it's nice to be with someone, to share your bed with."

"We do that every night?" I reminded him, "Me and Bertrand?"

"But you're not old enough to penet- 3;" Eryk was going to say, but Armand cut him off. For someone so big, he could certainly sneak up on you!

"And they won't be old enough for a while!" Armand gave him a gentle cuff upside of his head, "What are you doing, talking about sexual relations to these two?" He sounded almost angry, but amused too.

"They wanted to know, sir," Eryk answered.

"Well, let's make sure they get to see you get your dilator put in, next time you get ready to go home," Armand told him, which made Eryk blush very deeply. "You enjoy it while you're a boy, Eryk. You go and grow up, men lose interest in you," he sounded sort of wistful, longing? I wondered if his Master, when Armand had been a young Page, had done that to him?

Being boys, though, and easily distracted, we soon forgot all about our shock at the prospect of "being with a man". Armand put us to catching new late piglets, which were due to be gelded. Of course, when we remembered it later, we had to share this knowledge with Wolfram. I remember he didn't seem too surprised by it?

"Ohhh! You've done it, haven't you?" Bertrand accused him, "Admit it! You've had a man's prick up your bottom?"

Of course, with it being just us, Bertrand could talk to him that way. Wolfram didn't consider him a slave any more than I did.

"Was it fun?" I had to ask.

Poor Wolfram. His fat was really in the fire, as Armand would say. Never mind the blushing and giggling. "Yes," he admitted, "I didn't much fancy it at first, but after the second or third time, I 3; I started to look forward to it?" He just shrugged. "It's not like I'll ever be able to do anything else, like a man can, you know – now that I'm gelded."

Bertrand sighed. "I know," he agreed, and I almost felt sorry for them. Not that I knew anything about sexual matters, other than the 'how to' of it. But if I were to be gelded as well, then I'd never be able to do it, either. I wondered what it was like – wondering, all your life, what it would be like to be man and not a eunuch? Never being able to put your big, stiff prick into anyone?

"Your prick's got stiff!" Wolfram pointed out, "Mine never does anymore."

"Me either," Bertrand agreed, "But I think yours is too small yet, to shove it into anyone, Andy?"

"It's grown a little bit, I've noticed," Wolfram pointed out, "But it's still got a long way to go."

It was just another reminder that I was different. I was a boy. They were eunuchs. I'd grow up to be a man, eventually. My prick would grow, that much I knew, and father had mentioned those 'urges'. I had to wonder if shoving my stiff prick into a girl (or a eunuch) was one of them? He hadn't gone into it much, really.

"My cousin's is like this," Wolfram held his hands apart, then made a circle with his thumb and finger.

"About like Father's," I nodded, having seen it in the bath many times. I wondered if mine would grow that big? And if it did, would I be wanting to put it into a woman? Father certainly seemed to like to do that, as we'd walked in on him and Miss Morgana once! That was when, I think, I started wondering about what it would feel like to put my prick into Bertrand. It stiffened at the thought of it, not that it was much to see at the time, and my friends laughed.

"It must be just the usual man's size, then?" Wolfram reasoned, "And eunuchs' pricks never grow like that." He sighed again. "It's funny, I never thought about having children of my own, until I was gelded. Now I can't."

"You shouldn't," Bertrand joked, jabbing my ribs, "If they turn out like you!" He smiled at me.

Me, I was wondering which of Wolfram's cousins was doing that to him? It had probably been Zach, come to think, and he was probably doing it with Elias now.

We forgot about it, though, when Wolfram suggested that we go and help decorate. He put on one of my night gowns, and just to be antagonistic, Bertrand and I put on our collars and went naked. I had to admit, with his hair down and wearing that gown, Wolfram really looked like a girl!

"You're a bad boy, you know that?" Father told me, when John nearly fainted at seeing me in a collar, and Grandmother called for a fan and a drink. I got a smart slap to my bottom! "Get to work then, boy," Father ordered me.

"Yes, sir!"

But while I was decorating, I couldn't help but wonder about Chadi. What kind of miserable holiday was he going to have? Taken from his home, put in the military, a slave no less, injured, and now without his master?

I was thinking about how Chadi had been fully castrated – penis and testicles – as a young boy, when Bertrand nudged me to whisper that my prickle was stiff again.

"It's just rude, walking around naked like 3; like that!" Grandmother complained, "Your Father used too 3;"

"Let the boy enjoy it while he's still a child," Father cut her off, "It won't be that long, he'll be running off with Miss Elise to start his own family."

That got me to thinking even more about all the things that my friends could never do. It also started me to thinking that I really liked Elise a great deal more when she was being Ephraim. It also made me wonder just what we'd do if I chose to be cut?

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that not only I – but a few other people – had more than a few things to lose.