LOTHARIO: THE PLEASURE GOD

My earliest clear memory comes from when I was six. I certainly recollect a few things before that time, but they are, at best, fuzzy, and therefore unreliable, so I will refrain from including them. I would like to keep this account of my life as close to the truth as possible, so I will only write about what I recollect with great clarity. At whatever point it is essential to my telling that my memory is fuzzy, I will make that clear to you.

We were on a ship, my mother and I, along with some others, as prisoners of conquest. Although my mother and I were never treated as such. We were never in chains like the others, and my young mind simply did not bother or even think to question it, but later I would figure out why.

While the other prisoners, men, women, and children, some my age, others older, were all bound with chains and locked below deck, I was allowed to walk freely; I was fed well too.

One late night, I left my quarters and went to the deck. My mother was away, and I was simply bored; there wasn't much to do around soldiers and the ship's crew. Barely anyone paid me attention, bar the occasional bullying from the younger members of the ship's crew, but even that was seldom, as they perhaps deemed me too boring—I barely reacted to their taunts and assaults. The dumb boy, they called me; that is the first of my epithets, this one barely ever mentioned in the stories about me.

As I strolled along the deck, out of nowhere, I was grabbed by the neck by a rough-looking man. He had pale skin, unusually dark eyes, and a face scarred badly from an illness. He lifted me off the ground, and even though I could not breathe, I made no attempt to struggle.

"Aidra," he boomed, "seems one of 'em slavefolks found a way out of them cage. I'll return 'em quick 'fore the army commander wakes. I'm in no mood to answer negligence queries."

"Alrighty, Mouk, be quick about it, and get me an orange from the..." Aidra began but stopped mid-sentence when he sighted me. His pupils dilated, and I saw his face twist in horror.

"By the gods, Mouk, let him down!" he screamed as he ran towards me. Mouk looked perplexed as he dropped me. I landed with a thud, wheezing and choking as air came rushing back into my lungs, my vision swam, and tears blurred my eyes.

Aidra's hands steadied me, and he wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. He wore a mix of concern and fear on his features as he studied me. "Ya alright, lad? Ya alright," he said as he patted me on the head. "My mate didn't know who you are—a terrible mistake on his part." Mouk shifted nervously behind him as Aidra spoke.

He lifted my chin and inspected my neck, frowning. Then, as if an idea hit him, he removed a scarlet scarf from around his neck and held it in his hands. "This is my daughter's," he began. "She was just a little bit older than you when last I saw her, and she made this all by herself for me." He sounded proud as he spoke, then went quiet, his eyes distant as if reminiscing, before chuckling. "She gave it to me as a good luck charm," he continued. "I told her that the gods would protect me. She said to take it anyway, just in case. And I've been in some dicey situations, lad; I can't say for certain that this scarf protected me, but I also can't say it hasn't.

Now, I'll lend it to you for a couple of days, eh?" He wrapped the scarf around my neck. I touched it, feeling the weaves and patterns of the scarf. I could feel every seam, loose and slick, thick and tight; it fascinated me greatly.

He left me to it, went to Mouk, and dragged him beyond my earshot. They spoke in whispers, but for some reason, I could hear them loud and clear.

"Do you know who that is, you fucking pig fart?" Aidra growled.

"Nay," Mouk responded, his tone apprehensive, clearly worried by Aidra's distress.

Aidra sighed. "That's the child of the commander's whore. His mark. Meaning the brat's untouchable. Ya hear me? Untouchable."

Mouk began to panic now; I could almost feel it. "I...I... I ain't know, Aidra."

"Of course you didn't, ignorant fuck," Aidra snapped. "But that's no excuse for the commander."

"W... What do I do, man?"

"We'll return to the brat now. And apologize to him. You will bribe him with treats and act a clown to make him laugh if you must, and hope to the gods he is as stupid as he looks. If he is mute, then you're lucky. Let's go."

They returned. Mouk came to where I sat, went on one knee in front of me, and ruffled my hair. He tried to force a smile which sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn't a man who smiled often, and his attempt at one scared the shit out of me.

"Sorry, boy," he began. "I ain't know you was the commander's mark. I am sorry."

Then he dug his hand into his coat, bringing out wrapped sweets, an apple, and a drink so sweet I forgot about the pain in my neck. Aidra said I could keep the scarf for three days; for this, I was thankful. I could not explain why, but I was strangely drawn to the scarf—I didn't want to part with it.

Then all through the night, they—Aidra and Mouk—taught me everything there was to know about ships and navigation. Not every single thing, of course. Just the most important things all those who sail the seas must know. As the cold air bit at my face on the deck, the wood slick with dew underfoot, the moon played hide-and-seek behind thick clouds, casting long, dancing shadows. Lanterns swayed on the masts, their light flickering and dim. Aidra pointed a gloved finger, his voice low against the wind. "The North Star," he said, his breath misting in the air. "Find it. It's always north."

Mouk, his hands busy with the rigging, grunted in agreement. Ropes creaked and groaned, and the canvas of the sails snapped sharply in the wind. "Wind's our friend," he said, his voice rough. "But a fickle one. It changes quick. You gotta feel it, learn its moods. These lines—sheets, braces—they're how we talk to the wind, how we make it listen." He showed me how to adjust them, a small pull here resulting in a surprising change there. Seemed easy enough, at least the way he did it.

We huddled by a small, portable table, the charts threatening to take flight in the gusts. Aidra held them down firmly, his finger tracing a route. "This is the way we're going," he said, his voice serious. "But the sea doesn't always behave. You'll have to account for currents, tides, unpredictable shifts in the wind. It's not always a straight line."

They showed me the compass, shouting the points over the wind and waves. North. East. South. West. And all the ones in between. Above us, the stars wheeled across the dark sky, more than I could possibly count. Mouk pointed out a few key patterns: the Big Dipper, Orion. "Find these," he repeated. "Find North." He showed me how to use the stars for direction, for finding our place on the vast, dark ocean.

There wasn't much time for slow explanations or gentle demonstrations. Each lesson was a quick, sharp burst of information, illuminated by the brief flare of a lantern. They showed me how to read the clouds against the night sky, how to anticipate changes in the weather just by the feel of the air and the way the waves moved.

By the time the first hint of dawn painted the sky a pale, watery grey, I was exhausted. My head ached, full of many new things. But I enjoyed it all, nevertheless.

Mouk led me back to my sleeping quarters, thankfully for him, my mother was still absent. He apologized once more, and made me promise to keep silent about the previous night's events.

I said nothing but nodded my head to show I understood. Mouk knew that was the best he was going to get from me since I hadn't said a single word throughout our interactions.

He smiled again, and I held my breath, but this time, it was less hideous, more natural. He'd grown fond of me, I was sure. I smiled back at him as he left. I went to bed, and sleep took me quickly.

It was midday when I woke up; my mother was sat on my bed watching me, the worry on her face giving way to relief. She hugged me tightly, and when she calmed down, I told her what Mouk did to me.