Published at 2nd of September 2019 3:47 pm

Volume 1, Chapter 7 Part 3

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The next morning, although he was neither willing nor enthusiastic, Walker still kept his promise and together with Wiltshire, he boarded the ship that was bound for the Port of Le Havre [1], The Princess Elizabeth.

The ocean's sparkling and translucent surface reflected the clear blue sky, creating a lovely scene, and the accommodations in the First-Class cabins were also quite comfortable, but unfortunately, Wiltshire seemed totally unable to find his sea legs --- within two hours of boarding the ship, he had already barfed five times.

“Oh, God! How is it that you are not even the slightest bit seasick when it's obvious that you have never even seen the open ocean before?” In great discomfort, Wiltshire was lying flat on his back atop the narrow bed in the cabin. With envy written all over his face, he looked at Walker, who was admiring the scenery outside the window of the cabin in a totally relaxed manner.

It was rare that he could feel any sense of superiority when he was faced with the Marquess. As Walker was placing a cold towel on Wiltshire's forehead, he laughed and said: “Maybe the Gods of the Sea favour kind people.”

Just as Wiltshire was thinking of launching a counterattack, the ship gave a timely jolt and the Marquess immediately clutched at his churning stomach and gave a groan. Clamping his mouth shut tightly, he forced back his queasiness.

When he saw that at this moment, the cheeks of the usually jaunty Wiltshire were now pale and wan, Walker couldn't find it in his heart to ignite any hatred or enmity towards him anymore.

“Do you want me to bring you something to eat?” He cast a look at the clock hanging on the wall of the cabin and found that it was almost time for lunch.

“If you intend to cause my death…” Wiltshire gave a bitter laugh. He cast a glare at the boundless azure ocean beyond the windows of the cabin and could not help but to give a groan from the very depths of his throat, which was then followed by him beginning to mutter malicious words, curses directed at the Prince Regent.

Hearing the extremely ungentlemanly words continue to stream out of Wiltshire's mouth without any hint of stopping, Walker was on the verge of being unable to restrain a smile. From the time he had first met Wiltshire, he had always been at an disadvantage, but it would seem that the sea gods were inflicting punishment upon this savage man on Walker's behalf --- although the severity of his punishment was still somewhat more lenient than desired.

“I’m going to go have lunch.” Walker rose from his chair and stood up, his stomach was rumbling with hunger, making him feel very uncomfortable. More importantly, he had no wish to have to deal with a man in a cantankerous mood while he himself had an empty stomach.

“Don’t go yet!” Seemingly at his last gasp, Wiltshire managed to summon up energy from some unknown reserves and managed to shout out. He looked at Walker, and with a most pathetic and pitiful expression he implored, “Don’t leave me here alone…”

When he saw the surprised look on the Scotsman's face, he said even more emphatically: “Please accompany me for a while longer.”

Walker stared at Wiltshire intently for a few seconds; finally he softened, affected by the look in that pair of jade-green eyes, which looked close to being beseeching.

“Alright!” In a forthright manner, he nodded his head, dragging a chair over to the bed and sitting down. “If there is anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

After all, with the way the Marquess now looked, it was hard to think of him as the devil who had raped him and Walker's fatal failing was that he found it hard to reject requests that others made of him.

Wiltshire gave a blink, and his crystal-like eyes of pure green were suddenly misted over with a layer of vapour. His tone of voice also became more careful, complimenting the tragic expression he was wearing.

“May I lay on you for a moment?” He pointed to Walker's knee, and his voice was almost on the verge of being extremely cautious and solemn.

He really couldn't think of any reasonable excuse to decline the request of an ailing man, and Walker had to agree, for lack of a better option. He let Wiltshire rest his head on this thigh, using it as a pillow, and looked on as Wiltshire closed his eyes, even appearing to have difficulty breathing. Even if Walker had cracked his head with over-thinking, he could never have imagined that a moment would come when the Marquess, who usually carried himself in a high-and-mighty manner, would be as soft and amenable as he was now --- most of the time, Wiltshire was an indolent aristocrat, but in Walker's eyes, he was nothing but a devilish maniac hell-bent on pursuing sexual pleasure.

“Could you pour me a glass of water?”

“Of course.” Walker reached for the cup by his side, and with clumsy movements, he helped Wiltshire to lean against his chest and fed him the water. But water was constantly dripping down the chin of the rather uncoordinated Marquess as he drank, and a large patch of Walker's trousers was soon sodden.

“Even an infant is more agile than you.” Walker did not know whether he should laugh or cry, and he couldn't help but to grouse.

“It’ll be fine, just change into another pair.” The originator of the whole trouble still dared to make his suggestion while wearing an innocent expression.

“They’re being washed.” Walker's face was deadpan, but his mind was thinking back to the scene where the Marquess had reduced his expensive trousers to a pile of shredded rags during one of the times he was seeking pleasure --- whenever Wiltshire's lust was stoked, he would be unwilling to stomach any delays, even the little bit of time needed to undo buttons would be too much.

“Then just wear mine.”

“As if I can fit into yours!” Walker could not think of any other response --- the man was obviously as tall as him, but his thigh seemed to be about a third slimmer than Walker's. The only thing he could be glad about was that he was not some woman, who might have gotten bothered about problems with his figure when met with such a comparison.

“Then just don’t wear anything!” Wiltshire grinned slowly; simply by looking at his expression, Walker immediately knew that he must be thinking about some off-coloured things. And coinciding with his imagination becoming rose-tinted, he seemed to have totally forgotten about being seasick.

“Now that you seem to have recovered, I shall leave for a while.” Lunch was only being served within a certain timeframe on the ship; Walker did not want to have to contend with the Marquess while he was still hungry.

“Oh, my head feels dizzy... I really feel like vomiting…” As if by magic, the Marquess face turned pale within a split second, he clung to Walker's thigh fiercely and from his expression, he looked as if he were about to throw up.

From the way he looked, he genuinely did not seem to be putting up an act, and Walker could only give up on the idea of leaving the room. “If you dislike travelling by sea so much, why do you still want to go to France?”

Wiltshire had completely neglected to explain to him what the purpose of this trip was, but Walker also found himself to be very deplorable for how he had gotten muddle-headed because of Wiltshire's superlative sexual technique and had hastily agreed to go on this trip in that state of mind --- Walker began to experience intense self-loathing; in the twenty-six years he had lived, his lifestyle had been one that was quite ascetic, but after meeting Wiltshire, this form of self-control seemed to have completely collapsed.

“……”Wiltshire fell silent. It was rare that he would wear an expression that approximated awkwardness, and from that, Walker knew that the reason for the trip must be of great import.

“If you don’t wish to talk about it, you don’t have to.” Actually, Walker did not really want to know; for him, the only reason he was going on this trip was because of the job that the Marquess had promised to him.

“If I tell you, could you…” Again, Wiltshire wore an ill-intentioned smile, and he also placed his hand on Walker's thigh in a most dishonest fashion, slowly creeping upwards...

Walker knocked his hand off roughly, and with a grim expression on his face, he said: “If you still have that type of strength, then I’ve very sorry but I think that there is no longer a need for me to stay here and look after you.”

“Don’t!” Wiltshire hurried to grab on to Walker, who was about to leave and said: “Alright, I'll tell you. In actual fact, I really do need your help.”

There was sincerity in his eyes, and this air of gravitas was something that Walker had never seen from the Marquess before, causing him to quieten down.　　

Re-seating himself by the bed, Walker said solemnly: “I guarantee that I will keep what I am about to hear a secret.”

Wiltshire looked at him, seeing that the Scotsman's eyes were resolute and limpid, the Marquess nodded.

“Alright.” He said.

In that instant, Walker felt that a completely new kind of connection seemed to have been forged between the two of them --- it had nothing to do with sex or other matters, instead it was purely one of mutual trust between two men.

Wiltshire gave a soft sigh, gave a swallow, and finally began his narrative: “Do you know who Princess Caroline is?”

Walker furrowed his brows, the name Caroline seemed to be quite familiar, he seemed to have heard somebody mention it before, but at that moment, he could not quite recall who she was.

“She is the Prince Regent’s daughter.” Seeing that Walker's expression was hesitant, Wiltshire gave him a reminder, and Walker immediately remembered that he had heard someone mention that name during the last party he had attended with Wiltshire.

“She went missing two weeks ago!” The Marquis announced.

Walker was so surprised that his mouth was wide open --- Princess Caroline was the Prince Regent's only daughter and she was in line to inherit the throne after her father; her disappearance would be headline-making news that would send shockwaves throughout the entire British Empire.

“Well actually, she can't be said to be missing, she left a letter for her father, saying that she was eloping with a French aristocrat. And that damned Henry actually picked me to go and help him retrieve his daughter; he even said some nonsense like people would not suspect me of having been entrusted with such a weighty mission because of my reputation for being idle and disdainful of any kind of work! Goddamn it, really!” Wiltshire was unable to resist and heaped another curse upon the Prince Regent.

The Princess's elopement would definitely be one of the biggest scandals that came out of England in that century if it were revealed to the public, and Walker was very much stunned that Wiltshire would actually tell him about such a momentous piece of news.

“Now that you know why I am going to France, so, can you help me?” The Marquess asked his question with a grave expression on his face and Walker couldn't help but be moved by the trust Wiltshire had placed in him --- although he knew that the reason he had invested this type of trust in him was related to the intimate relationship they shared, but as an aristocrat, Wiltshire had some characteristics that other people of his social station would not have.

“Yes.” Walker also used a rather serious tone of voice to make his reply. Looking straight at Wiltshire, he straightened his back.

A smile slowly blossomed on Wiltshire's face. He leaned his body close, and slowly planted a long kiss on Walker's lips --- sealed with a kiss.

A long time later, whenever wandering minstrels would recount this legendary saga, the relationship between the Marquess of Wiltshire and Walker Robinson would be portrayed as one of a pair of master and servant. In their poems, the Marquess would be a knight who was both possessed of both bravery and wisdom, and as for Walker, he would be the Marquess's faithful servant and bodyguard. The bards would unreservedly make proclamations about the stirring love story between the Princess and the Marquess, but never did they ever speak of the true story behind this romantic tale of two warriors and their quest to rescue a princess.

End of Jus Primae Noctis Volume 1

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[1]: 哈维港 (hā wéi gǎng): most search results point to this being Port Harvey in Canada, but I think it’s probably Le Havre in France, which was a common entryway into France for British travellers embarking on their Grand Tour.

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