Chapter Ten-William

After Jacob had speeded back to the palace, hundreds of thoughts plaguing his mind, he was called to the grand hall, where the feast would commence, to add some final, minor improvements for the overindulged guests.

"Oi, you lot," Higher slave bellowed to the servants, minutes before they were to be called up for the alterations. "I've just received news that the king won't be feasting, summat about his illness getting worse. Anyway, somebody else will need to take his place. The royals have said I can choose one of you, but I'm not too sure; why would I want to see someone else up there instead of me?" The impolite peer scowled at the group. "However, the royals have said that I cannot be chosen; I must watch over you all. Therefore, I'll choose…Elizabeth."

He pointed over to the bonny girl, who had aged no more that sixteen years, and thus, the entirety of the group also followed the appendage's path. Elizabeth Elms hailed from Wales, and was chosen by 'higher slave' for her petite being and envious etiquette.

"But Oscar, I know nothing of true mealtime manners," She said, in front of the sharp eyes of the group.

Jacob sighed at the tedium about to ensue.

"Ergo," She continued, shifting under the glares. "I'll have to decline your offer."

The chooser scoffed at her declination, feeling a little insulted, and said, "You're going to give up a place at the royal feast? I don't know how your monotonous mind's mechanics function, Miss Elms, but I do know that you're a slight imbecile for that impudence."

There was a silence, broken only by footsteps upstairs.

"I'll choose Jacob then," Oscar said. "Not for any reason except that you're a little bit more acquainted with the conceited prince more than us, and you're a little bit prettier than the other boys in this hellhole."

Jacob looked up from his elegant shoes with an intake of breath, "I'm sorry? You'll prefer to choose me than Henry here?" He nodded to the seventeen year old next to him. "He is, against your perfect judgement, far more beautiful than I."
"Beautiful he is, charismatic he is not," Henry coloured from the stifled laughter of his 'friends'.

"Well, I guess I have no choice but to accept your decision, Oscar." Jacob tried to conceal his joy with the mask of a stiff upper lip; he'd learned from a very early age to never express your enthusiasm or sorrow.

"Right, that's that then. Jacob, you'll wait here while I take these vagabonds to the hall; I'll return for you momentarily."

"What for, sir? What is it about Jacob that requires single assistance?" Sneered Henry, causing Jacob to shy away from his neighbour.

"What is it about you that requires a single flogging? Oh, I remember now, your aptitude for arrogance and cheek!"

The group laughed as they ascended the hard, cold staircase, leading to the labyrinthine corridors which snaked to the hall. Jacob, shrouded in solitude, listened to their echoes die away. Instantly, he felt completely alone. He tried to distract himself by pondering over what the night would hold; what would the royals really be like at the parties? He was also anxious to meet the fabled Scotsman. But it was a distraction easily implemented; the truth that Threshold had divulged to him in the forest was in his every waking thought. Was there a demon lurking behind him now? He confirmed in the negative when he spun around swiftly. Was one watching him from the ceiling? Again, his movements made him look more of a fool than prove if a watcher was around. Still, the overwhelming feeling of interrogation grasped him. He wanted to drop the Stone, which was in his posh pocket, and flee the scene. Jacob felt as though the demons weren't around him, but inside him, coercing his soul to submission. Was he the demon that Threshold had warned him of?

The restless reveries were ceased when Oscar returned, for once a moment of joy for Jacob. "Right, you, we need to get you looking nice, don't we?"

"But I am, Oscar," Jacob stood up and gestured to his attire.

Oscar smirked, "We need you to look a little paler; one does not want to see a foreigner at the table."

Jacob's feelings were hurt, "I'd prefer not to; I like my skin."

"Perhaps you do, but they shall not."

"Let's be honest, Oscar, what do they have that makes them greater than us? Apart from money, don't they have the same working brain, the same working limbs, the same working heart as our clique?" Jacob gave a deep sigh; he honestly didn't want to go to the feast; he was used to being behind the scenes than actually in it.

For once, Oscar displayed a sense of affection in his impenetrable eyes, "Jacob, as you well know, any soul that allows another to be in chains is without the perks you just detailed."

The young slave could not deny Oscar's point.

"So, let's get you powdered."

After Oscar had made Jacob look a little bit paler, and fitted a new periwig to him, one of the white colour, they were ready to be at the feast. His attire remained the same: black britches, a black waistcoat with a paper-white shirt underneath, and onyx shoes with golden laces. According to the major, he looked "divine".

"Who knows, perhaps Mr Artichoke will marry you, any you'll finally leave this place and live in Scotland. Oh, I'll be overjoyed if that does commence," They were on their way to the hall now. Jacob asked if they'd walk a little bit slower, for the shoes hurt and his anxiety was palpable.

But to the words just voiced by Oscar, Jacob's countenance drained of blood, "Meaning what? You're referring to homosexuality?"

"Of course I am, Jacob; I've known it since you were ten that you preferred the sausage to the cabbage," Oscar laughed at his humour, which Jacob also engaged in. "But yes, it bothers me not if you prefer the company of your own gender."

"Thank you, it gives me great pain in admitting it."

"Why should it? The chains that lock your soul must be relieved in some way."

"Truth. But what do you mean about Mr Artichoke?"

"Well, William Artichoke, as his proper name goes, is definitely of the same sphere as you."

Jacob tried to furrow his brow, but the gleam in his eyes made all attempts at seriousness seem futile, "And how is his homosexuality confirmed?"

"He has a wife, yes, but does he love her, or does he love any other female in a physical manner? No, he does not. It is well known that the pleasure he receives is from the loins of men."

They both giggled, "I don't see how he'd marry me; marriage is a conspicuous arrangement."

"Maybe it is, but a marriage of two men is done in secrecy; I've been to many."

The feast was a most joyous occasion. Jacob found that he fit in perfectly, though he received some odd looks off the royals who knew who he really was. He was ecstatic to see Prince Edward there, and even more so that he was seated across the table from him. But this was overshadowed by the fact that William was Jacob's neighbour. The latter boy found William was twenty years old, black haired and not in the slight bit effeminate. He was, by no means, overtly masculine, but he blended in seamlessly with the rest of the crowd. Jacob also found that William was devastatingly handsome; he had the roguish look that he favoured toward.

After the starters were served and taken away, the table erupted with chatter. Jacob hardly knew what to say to anyone; he desired to speak to Edward, but he found that two things made that impossible: he was already in conferment with another, and the vivacity of the voices around him cancelled any chance of Edward hearing him from across the table.

Thus, his only two options were a frail, antediluvian woman on his left side, and the latent William on his right. He definitely chose the last.

Shocked that William wasn't already conversing, he began the chat by saying, "How beautiful Scotland must be."

William looked at Jacob, and his lips curved upwards, "Aye, and what do you know of it?"

"Well, I have read some books on it. I used to be Prince Edward's driver," He gestured to the bubbling boy, "But the most north we've been to was Cambridgeshire."

William grinned wolfishly and slapped Jacob on the back lightly, "Cambridgeshire? Nay, lad, the rolling greens of that place are in no means of the relation to Scotland's fells."

"I understand that. From which part do you hail?"

"Edinburgh, though my manor, Naydsham Park, is where I reside mainly," He coughed, and carried on, "My wife does not live there."

Jacob tried to decipher why he'd inform him that, "Oh, where does she live?"

"Balmoral," William's eyebrows furrowed at the talk of his wife.

Jacob wanted to test him, to see if he really was as Oscar implied, "What is your wife like?"

"She's a very pretty lady."

"Of no remarkable features?"

"Well, she has nice eyes, a nice nose…" William was clearly trying to scour for a decent adjective.

"And her brother, if she has one?" Jacob smirked to himself.

"Oh, he's a fine, young lad. Eighteen, and has the chest of a god. He has a lovely smile, y'know, and he's bloody brilliant at hunting. He looks a little bit like you," The Scotsman's face softened.

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"Do so, for t'was."

Their legs touched under the table. Neither of them retracted their appendages, "So," Jacob continued. "What brings you to London?"

"Aristocratic business of the loneliest kind."

"You're without a companion?" Jacob inquired, rubbing his leg against his newfound friend's.

Mr Artichoke smiled wolfishly and returned the rubbing, "No, I'm not."

"That's a shame…"

"Aye, it is."

Eventually, the main-course was brought in, and the two men ate it pleasurably, whilst the connection of their legs grew more intimate. Jacob was pulled from his bubble with William by the voice of Edward, "Dear, Jacob, is that you?"

All eyes were cast upon the soul within Edward's words.

"Yes, it is, Edward."

"Damn fine to see you here," Edward winked at him, allowing Jacob's stomach to flutter. He was very happy to be at the feast.

"It's nice to see you as well, William," The two men shared a knowing look between them, one which Jacob caught and immediately he returned his leg to its rightful place. He was instantly surprised at the fact which was so evidently clear to the eyes that knew where to look.

"Mm, Edward, it's very nice to see you. How is your father? I hear he isn't well."

Most of the table then asked the same question but with different words.

Edward calmed the voices, "He is a little bit sick. It must be something he ate or drank because, quite frankly, his illness was retreating."

Everybody sighed at the fact, apart from Edward.

"And how fairs the war, sir?" Inquired the boy next to the prince.

"We're at war?" Jacob interjected.

"Yes, we are. And there's no news yet; nothing has really happened."

The feast past by in the same, soporific shade until it was executed perfectly by the declaration of king's death. All souls gasped and talked animatedly at the fact. Some cried, others beheld an expression of indifference, Edward being one of them. Jacob had no feeling whatsoever that his master was no longer in existence, yet William seemed to use the scenario as a chance to advance on Jacob. The latter boy felt a warm whisper in his ear, "Are you engaged tomorrow?"

He was surprised by the effrontery of the man, but ultimately he felt forced into an answer, "No, not that I'm aware."

"Excellent news. I am to visit the theatre tomorrow to see a new play and have no companion. Would you like to attend?"

Jacob was ambivalent about answering after the accusation of the prince and the Scotsman in his mind, but sincerely he was flattered, and felt a rupture in his chest that he'd not endured before. It was a heavenly feeling that people in stories were supposed to have, and Jacob was completely welcoming of it, "I'd love to."

"Excellent," Admitted William, his eyes shining. "I'll pick you up at five."

All the while that this arrangement was alive, Edward fretted not over the expected death of his father, but over the contents of what the two in front of him talked over. He actually felt jealous.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.