~ The Debt Collector ~

by

James Scott DeLane

I am known by many names. Some call me a butcher, others a demon. Those who speak of me say my heart is black and my eyes are cold. Storytellers enchant their listeners with vivid tales of my adventures, never failing to stress my cruelty. I don’t deny I’ve done horrible things and my purpose in telling this story is not to apologize or explain. Perhaps I am by nature a heartless person, perhaps I don’t feel and see things the way others do, but that doesn’t mean I feel or see nothing. In my long life I have seen and felt many things which have never been told. Now, while I am still able, I shall tell of my life and the unusual woman who chose me above all others.

I was born in the year eight hundred and seven, in the rich lands of Aros near the Capian Sea. My mother named me Stephan, in memory of the great ruler of generations past. My father always called me Oran because my eyes were green as emeralds.

My mortal life was one of extravagance. Normal hardships and difficulties faced by others were unknown to me. Mine was an ancient patrician family whose wealth was limited only by our desire to expand it. My every need was attended, my every wish granted. I was pampered, protected, and cuddled by my parents and countless servants. It was only natural that I became arrogant and intolerant.

My mother sang to me and taught me how to sketch. I spent far too little time with her. My father never ceased lecturing about my responsibilities and my place in the world. He had such grand plans for me.

“Power is built on knowledge,” he constantly preached.

No expense was spared in my education. My father assembled the finest teachers, musicians, orators, and poets. I was well tutored in all the arts and sciences. Special attention was paid to the skills needed by a prince. My father understood the importance of seeing into the false promises of others. To master the arts of intrigue, I received private instruction from an old man who had mentored many powerful rulers.

Lucilus was his name and he developed a particular fondness for me. He, more than others, appreciated my capacities and he took a very personal interest in my education. He employed his influence to mold and shape me. Into my open ear he would often whisper, “Strike first… Power seeks the ruthless and rewards the cunning… Many battles are won with a lie… Crush your enemies… You have no friends…”

Lucilus taught me what my father never learned. Real power is built on terror.

“Those around you should tremble,” Lucilus would say. “For fear of what you might do next.”

The gods were generous with their gifts. Physically, I was quick, strong, and unequaled in agility. Mentally, my tutors were amazed at the ease with which I grasped the complex. Subtleties of reason and logic, lost on most, I quickly understood.

“Born under a lucky star,” everyone agreed.

As time passed, hints of my destiny were revealed. I was a natural leader and an adept warrior. By the age of fourteen, I mastered the sword, the bow, and the ax. By sixteen, I fought and easily defeated grown men. By day I relentlessly practiced with all manner of weapon; by night Lucilus and I studied in detail the campaigns, tactics, and mistakes of great warlords past. I often lost myself in grand dreams of battles, future conquests, and all the glory which awaited me. Lucilus stoked my growing ambitions by assuring me the world was mine, if only I had the will to seize it.

While I slept, Lucilus sat near my bed and softly whispered in my ear: “Trust no one, my young prince.”

For my eighteenth birthday my father arranged a feast. Emissaries, politicians, and merchants from the known world were invited. At this festival my proud father would announce, that I, his only son, was a man.

The great hall of our main estate was made ready. Fresh flowers and fruits of all varieties lined the long wooden tables. Roaring fires roasted six bulls. Fine carriages and multicolored caravans filled the open fields, flags and emblems from around the world unfurled in the spring breeze. This would be a celebration long remembered.

Despite my protests, I couldn’t avoid this festival. My father stressed the importance of developing influential contacts. He said these powerful people traveled great distances to welcome me into the world. He said many brought their eligible daughters and I should be thinking ahead. I had no interest in these politicians and merchants or their daughters. My plans extended far beyond simple business transactions. My father didn’t appreciate the full depth of my ambitions, but Lucilus did.

Lucilus pulled me aside and suggested I use this festival as an opportunity to practice my speaking skills. My wise tutor advised there would be occasions when skillful words would suit my purposes. Since I was the guest of honor, I had to attend.

By mid afternoon the grand hall bustled with guests. Smiling musicians entertained, as did roving artisans and brightly dressed magicians. Behind every hopeful mother trailed an aspiring daughter, each dressed in their finest clothes, with perfect hair and warm smiles. They shyly introduced themselves and bowed with grace and elegance. How hard they strived to curry my favor. How totally I ignored them.

I was drawn into a conversation with the mayor of a great city. He extolled the many virtues of his town as well as those of his sweet, young daughter. No doubt he spoke the truth, but neither he nor his well-mannered child interested me in the slightest.

I excused myself from the mayor and his clinging daughter and made my way toward the tables. Hopeful mothers and single women tried to stop me but I politely moved on. As lovely and polished as all the young ladies were, none of them caught my eye. I couldn’t wait for this festival to end.

I stood at a table and ate fresh grapes from a large silver bowl. That was the moment I first saw her. Like a bright flash of light, she caught my eye. At the far end of the hall stood a solitary woman dressed in a white gown. She held a long-stemmed red rose in her hand. A purple mask made of feathers covered her eyes. She returned my gaze with an inviting smile. The din and chatter of the hall faded from my ears. I saw no one but her, as if she and I were alone in the huge room.

I made my way toward her. Guests beckoned me to stop and take notice but I brushed them aside. All I saw was the enchanting woman holding the rose. Jewels adorned the sleeves of her dress. She wore a golden necklace with a single dark red stone. Her thick, honey colored hair was woven into a braid which hung to the middle of her back. A polished silver hairpiece, studded with glimmering diamonds, adorned the top of the braid. Her dress was cut low, revealing much of her breasts. Her smile widened as I approached. In her delicate fingers, she slowly twirled her flower.

I stopped a few feet in front of her. She waited for me to speak. Her presence had an effect on me I’d never felt. I should have spoken but all I could do was marvel at her flawless beauty.

“Are you the birthday boy?” she asked.  “The young prince I’ve heard so much about?”

The purple feathers shielded part of her face. I was unable to read her expression.

“Your eyes,” I said. “Please let me see your eyes.”

“As you wish.”

She gently placed her rose upon the table. With her hands, she raised the feathered mask. She looked at me and smiled.

“Is this better?” she asked.

I was astonished by the full impact of her face. Such eyes I’d never seen. They were blue like crystals in a kaleidoscope. Haunting and mesmerizing, her eyes captivated me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She extended her hand and lightly touched her fingertips to the side of my face. She looked very deeply into me.

“I’m a visitor who has traveled a very long way to see you.”

For a moment her gaze left me and she surveyed the crowded hall.

“Shall we walk outside? Away from these people?” she asked.

She took my hand and led me toward the doors. I completely forgot where I was. She looked ahead, but I looked at her.

Side by side, we walked to the cherry orchard. The hundreds of trees were in bloom and their sweet scent filled the air. When we were away from the lights and sounds of the banquet, she stopped and faced me. She put her hands on my chest and moved very close. I placed my hands on the warm skin of her shoulders. With the sides of my fingers, I lightly caressed her smooth face. Standing so close, I could smell her. I could see the veins in her neck; I could feel the warmth of her body. She moved close enough so her breasts touched my chest.

“Your eyes,” she said. “How very green they are.”

My heart pounded and the pace of my breath quickened. She licked the tops of her lips and slightly opened her mouth. I lowered my head to hers and touched her soft lips with my own. A mild jolt passed through me. She gently pushed her tongue onto my lips. My arms locked around her and I drew her to me.

My mind went blank. She opened her lips and pressed her tongue to mine. I ran my hands over her back and through her hair. Everything about her was delicious. The first kiss lasted a long time, but it was too short to suit me. She was the one who pulled away. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed.

“How very strong you are,” she said with a slight surprise. “Such power… such desire… such ambition…”

“Who are you?” I asked again.

With her fingertips, she gently traced the outline of my lips.

“Does it matter?” she replied.

I was completely absorbed in her. She unleashed in me a passion I’d never known. In that orchard, holding her in my arms, this woman enthralled me. I led her to my rooms and she followed. I quickly banished my servants and bolted shut the thick wooden doors. She quietly stood in the middle of the room and waited. At that moment, nothing in the universe existed, except this enchanting woman and me.

We stood facing each other, my hands on her shoulders, hers on my hips. I couldn’t stop gazing into her unusual eyes. Like pools of clear blue water, they were deep and inviting.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” she asked.