He heaved me over his shoulder as if I were no more than a child to him, and holding my ankles firmly in his hands, he headed off behind her, with me dangling down his back, my hands clasped to my neck and my eyes fixed on Lady Eva’s rose-colored silk skirts as she walked before me.

The blood was rushing to my head, but that was the least of my concerns. I felt more feeble and powerless than ever before. The man walked very fast and so did Lady Eva.

Through a garden we were moving and I could hear music around us and the hum of voices, but I could see almost nothing. With a shock it came to me that we were in a vast place and lots of people were passing us without so much as a word as to my being carried like this in their midst.

Indeed the noise grew thicker and thicker and the ground beneath us was layered with overlapping carpets of red and blue with intricate Eastern patterns. Torches flickered brightly all around us, and I could hear the sound of fountains.

This was utterly unnerving. To have been examined as I’d been by a few people and in an enclosed place was one thing, but this was like being carried naked through a marketplace or a fairground.

My face was down, hidden, however, and I was very grateful for that. But I peeped from left to right to see what I could, and suddenly saw with a shock a gorgeous noble lady seated at a marble table who smiled at me.

The shock was too much and I shut my eyes.

Then someone else passed and patted my head saying, “Lovely boy, Lady Eva.”

“Nothing too good for the King and Queen,” Lady Eva replied airily.

Again shock. I was exposed, my backside, legs, likely my genitals were visible, and there was nothing I could do about it even if I wanted to do something. The powerful man held my ankles firmly.

We entered a stone passage, and moved through a vast echoing hall, filled with voices and the soft tread of shoes, and then up a staircase.

The lady climbed the steps in front of me effortlessly, I could hear her, and now I could not see her, and again I closed my eyes because something about the stairs, climbing higher and higher, alarmed me.

We must have gone quite high up in the castle, before we entered a broad passage and proceeded down it.

I saw a floor of polished pavers carpeted again with a multitude of patterned carpets. All the merchants of Italy and the Orient must have come with these wares, I thought.

Doors here and there opened and closed and lords and ladies passed. I glimpsed brocade and tooled slippers.

We came to a stop and a man’s voice announced:

“Lady Eva to see Her Majesty.”

We advanced and the door was closed behind us.

The silence of the room suddenly enclosed us.

The man pulled down my ankles and flipped me back into his left arm, then turned me around and planted me on my feet and held my bottom firmly as I found my balance.

I clamped my hands tightly on the back of my neck. And I stared at the thick burgundy wool carpet.

Silence.

The low crackling of a fire, and its dim flashing light on the walls and in the corner of my eyes; the sound of breathing. And perhaps a caged bird singing.

“Well, you did not exaggerate,” said a woman’s soft melodious voice.

The Sleeping Beauty!

Could it be? I had been told over and over I would be brought here, yet my heart beat wildly inside me and I trembled.

“Yes, I think this is quite remarkable,” said Lady Eva. “Now down on your knees, Brenn. Yes, like that. Your Majesty, I haven’t trained this lovely porklet at all, I’ve brought him straight from the Hall of Postulants but I thought you should see him.”

“You did right, absolutely right, and little piglet, your posture and demeanor are perfect.” The voice was kindly, generous. “Now come here to me, that’s it, slowly, and though you are on your hands and knees you must be graceful. At all times, graceful. Do you know how beautiful you are, little boy?”

How could I answer that!

I moved forward, the carpet thick and soft under my hands and knees, forward, hoping that soon I’d know if I was going in the right direction. I was of course heading towards the source of the voice.

Then I saw the legs of a heavily carved oak chair, and I saw great full skirts of sky-blue silk and delicate gold tracery, and slippers, beautifully shaped slippers with pointed toes.

And the voice of Fane still in my mind, I kept moving until I could kiss the slippers of the woman and I did so.

“Ah, that is so touching,” she said kindly. “What an excellent boy. You are a gem. Now kneel up so I can see your endowments and your handsome strong chest and your face.”

I obeyed, hands to the regular position, and I felt my face burning hot. I knew I was blinking and trying to blink back tears. Why were the tears coming so quickly? My cock had never been harder in my life.

Staring down, I could see it, bloodred, with a shining wet tip. I bit my lip and waited in agony. Nothing that had gone before was quite like this.

“Well, you are a faun!” said the Queen. “I expect to find hooves on those feet, but no, they’re beautiful. Eva, he has the body of a satyr and the face of a Cupid.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And look at all this luxuriant hair.”

I saw a slender graceful hand move towards me, the fingers tugging at the dark hair of my chest, and moving down my belly, pulling at the hair gently, sending tingling sensations through me. The fingers plunged into my pubic hair and the Queen laughed and laughed. As before, I thought I might lose consciousness, or at least conscious control of my body.

“This is truly a magnificent young faun!” she said. “And your name is Brenn, precious one?”

“Yes, my queen,” I said. My throat was so dry the words came out scratchy and low. My mouth was quivering.

“Ah, what a little banquet you are for your mistress!” The long tapering fingers touched my cock but very lightly. I bit down on a gasp. “Now stand up and turn around, young faun,” she said, “without moving your hands . . . that’s it. Good boy. Oh, what a splendid backside.”

“It’s tightly muscled,” said Lady Eva. “Yet nicely padded. And if you could have seen the spanking with a belt that Lord Gregory gave him just hours ago, well, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“No, he’s barely pink,” said the Queen. “Pink as a rabbit’s ear or a kitten’s tongue. Turn around towards me again, Brenn.”

I obeyed.

I swallowed. My legs were vibrating but I don’t think they were visibly shaking.

I heard the sound of a door open.

“Laurent, I’m so glad you’ve come. Look at this little satyr who arrived today.”

A heavy tread approached, and even with my eyes down I could see the enormous figure of King Laurent beside me. The blood drained from my face. The tears hovered in my eyes.

A low laugh of amazement came from the King.

“Well, Eva, darling, this is beyond all imagining. Young man, I expect to find pointed ears here.” His hand clasped my chin and lifted it. “And this beard, ah, what a thick beard.”

The Queen laughed. “I said very nearly the same thing myself,” she confessed. “But he’s all little boy, every morsel of him.”

“This face was just shaved for the second time today, sire,” said Lady Eva. “That’s going to take attending, and of course the hair, all of it can be trimmed, or shaved.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t hear of it,” said the Queen. “I love it. Why even his backside has a nice thin covering of fleecy dark hair. This is sublime. Turn around again, Brenn.”

I obeyed.

“But you must speak up when I give you an order, darling,” said the Queen behind me. “You must acknowledge that your queen has spoken to you.”

I swallowed hard, and said, “Yes, my queen” immediately. I didn’t dare protest I’d been taught the opposite.

“I like his voice too,” said the King.

“He’s educated,” said Lady Eva, “clerk to a duke.”

“Ah, very good,” said the King. “Well, young Brenn—” He lifted my chin again. “Recite a line to me from Propertius.”

“In Latin, sire, or in the translation?” I asked.

The King roared with laugher. “You know Propertius’s elegies?” he asked.

“Yes, sire. ‘Amor takes no little happiness in a sprinkling of tears . . . there is joy in a new slavery as well . . .’” I broke off, after combining two lines.

“And where did you discover the translation?” the King asked.

“I translated it from the Latin, sire, when I was bored and had nothing else to do,” I answered. Was this too bold, too proud? Instantly I regretted it.

“Ooh no, no!” cried the Queen. “You can’t make of him a poet here, Laurent. He’s mine. I declare it.”

“Of course, my darling, my love,” said the King. “Don’t be so suspicious of me, but this is a fine scholar, and who says his duties can’t include the recitation of poetry now and then?”

“In time, perhaps, my lord,” said the Queen. “Right now, I want him. I don’t know quite what I shall do with him.”

“I have an idea, Your Majesty,” said Lady Eva.

“Well, then speak,” said the Queen.

“My queen, your lady ponies are lovely, but it takes two or more to pull even the lightest chariot for you. What about a male pony, a male pony so strong and striking that he can pull your little chariot and you all by himself? I think this would make a magnificent picture!”