“I believe you know I’m leaving for France in the morning. But I had to thank you before I leave.”
Logan was at the palace, having dinner with Raymond a second time. He had been summoned again; he wasn’t at all certain why. But it turned out that Alex had told the king about Logan’s warning. And Raymond was moved.
“It seems incredible to me. I’ve been here such a short time. How can they hate me so?”
Logan had brought a hearty appetite, and the food was delicious. “It’s politics, Raymond. There’s an old saying in America: ‘Politics isn’t beanbag.’ I grew up in Washington D.C., so it seems quite natural to me. Inevitable, even.”
“Politics is one thing. But murder, Logan? Really?”
Logan looked at him across the table. And the king seemed very small and very defenseless to him. He wondered why he’d never noticed before. And then there were Raymond’s eyes, those large, expressive pools of chocolate that said so much more than he ever did with his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much he should say, how much of reality Raymond was ready to face. “Not murder, Raymond, assassination. There is a difference. Murderers are small and insignificant criminals. They are lost to history sooner rather than later. But assassins… ”
“Brutus. John Wilkes Booth.” Raymond spoke the names in a whisper, as if the facts of his situation were beginning to sink in.
“How many King Raymonds have died from a knife in the dark? The last king wasn’t the first to die that way.”
Raymond wasn’t eating much. “I never asked for this. The Privy Council imposed it on me. I like to think I’ll be a good king, because I am—I hope—a good man. But… but I was happy in my monastery, copying books and watching the stars. Now… I don’t know.”
“Happy? Were you really? When you talked about it before—”
“Yes, I was happy, at least to the extent that I had the prospect of a long life ahead of me. How can they hate me so?”
Logan shrugged. The answer seemed so obvious to him. “Some people lust after power the way other people lust after sex. And they seem to find it satisfying in pretty much the same way. The rest of us—the ones who aren’t power junkies—can never quite understand it. But it’s true nevertheless.”
Raymond took a sip of wine. For a moment he seemed lost in thought. He seemed uncertain whether to say what he had on his mind. Then he resolved to come out with it. “I’ve never really lusted for either.” He lowered his eyes and added softly, “Till I met you.”
There. It was finally out in the open, no more beating around that particular bush. Logan wasn’t sure how to react. “You’ve never been in love, then?”
“Not until now, no.”
“Your friend in the monastery… ?”
“We were friends. Close, intimate, even passionate friends, but only friends.” He reached across the table and took Logan’s hand, “But you, Logan… ”
How could he say it? How do you reject a king, for God’s sake? “Raymond, you’re a scientist. You have to know something about chemistry. If the right ingredients aren’t there, and if they don’t interact in just the right way—”
The pain of rejection showed in Raymond’s eyes, but he kept silent.
The ball was still in Logan’s court. He went on. “You’re either attracted to someone or you aren’t. There’s no way to bypass that basic fact of chemistry.”
Softly: “Oh. Oh, I see.”
“And, I mean… well, you’re a king. Your duty is to your country. You’re expected to marry and produce a royal heir. Your lover would have to remain in the background, if not actually in the shadows. That isn’t me. Chemistry completely to one side, that isn’t me.”
A dozen emotions crossed Raymond’s face. Then he seemed to recover himself. “Did you know there’s a royal chapel in the palace? A small one, and it hasn’t been used for generations. Kings have always prayed in the cathedral. I’ve had it opened up and cleaned out, and I’m using it. The archbishop doesn’t like me using his cathedral. He’s not outright hostile, but he makes it clear he doesn’t want me there.”
Realizing that the painful part of the evening was past, Logan relaxed. “I’ve never been a chapel kind of guy. I’d just tell the archbishop to screw himself. Politely, of course.” When Raymond didn’t respond he added, “You’re the king. And if it comes down to it, you’re probably safer avoiding his turf.”
“Don’t I know it. I hear the people are already calling me ‘Raymond the Monk’ and “Raymond the Priest.’ I’m not sure I like that.”
“There are worse things they could call you. People used to call President Rutherford B. Hayes ‘Ruther-fraud.’”
Raymond chuckled. “We’ve had Raymond the Bad, Raymond the Mad, Raymond the Fat, Raymond the Two-faced… I guess Raymond the Monk isn’t too bad. But I’d still rather not be known that way.”
“When they see your observatory on the palace roof, they’ll probably call you Raymond the Star-gazer or something. But give them time to get to know you.”
Raymond was going to say that maybe Logan’s viewpoint would change in time, too; Logan could see it in his face. Fortunately, two servants came and served dessert, so nothing awkward developed. When they were gone Logan changed course. “So, you’re going to Paris.”
He nodded. “Duke Rupert used to talk about it. He made it sound like such a magical place. When Alex suggested I should travel to broaden my experience it was the first place I thought of.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A month, maybe six weeks, maybe more. We’re going to London too, and Rome and Berlin.”
“We?”
“Alex and Peter are coming along, and a few of their men. For security.”
Logan grinned. “From what I know of Paris, and from what I know of the royal guards, they’ll be there for a lot more than that.”
“I’ve been reading about Paris since I was a boy. Abelard and Eloise. St. Louis the Pious.”
“You might find it’s changed a bit since their day.”
Raymond reached across the table and touched Logan’s hand. “Really, I’m not as naïve as that. Give me a bit of credit.”
Logan surprised himself by not pulling away. He didn’t take Raymond’s hand, but he let the contact linger. Raymond’s touch was warm and gentle, much more so than he’d expected. “I hope so. It would be nice to see your reign last more than a month or two.”
Raymond pulled back. “Oh. That knife in the dark. I don’t want to think about that right now.”
“You must always think about it, Raymond. Bulvania will do much better under you than it ever would under Theodora.”
He looked shyly away. “Thank you, Logan. I hope so.”
Their meal finished, Logan stood to leave.
“I don’t suppose… ” Again, Raymond couldn’t look directly at him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to stay, would you? Spend the night in the palace?”
Logan’s heart sank a little bit. He had been letting himself hope they were past that. He was coming to like Raymond, even like him a lot. But when he looked at him… That beard, that hair, those clothes… There was no way. “I really have to get back to the embassy. Father’s expecting me.”
“Oh. Maybe… maybe another time, then?”
“We’ll see.” He put his arms around Raymond and very gently kissed his eyes, his enormous, expressive, loving eyes.
They said their goodnights, and that was that.