Progress through the afternoon is slower than Alex might have hoped, but speed isn’t the most important aspect of this journey, safety is. The road, now twisting and turning in a regular meander as it slowly climbs into the foothills of the mountains, is neither more or less busy than might be expected. The woodland had, for a couple of hours, grown into denser forest, but now, as they continue to gain height, it seems to be breaking back out into more open country.

They exchange greetings with a couple of groups, but many are intent on their journeys and pass in silence. Their slow walking pace means that they catch up with very few people travelling in the same westerly direction, but eventually catch and slowly overtake a train of four wagons, clearly heavily laden, as they struggle up an ever-steepening road.

Throughout the afternoon, Alex points out what he sees and how he views each thing. He never doubted Jamie’s intelligence and it’s clear, even after just these few hours, that the prince is picking up on the lessons.

Here and there, usually in the slight confines of a shallow valley, there are low, broad stone bridges across small rivers and streams.

“These are the tributaries of the Tanis that you spoke of?” Jamie asks after the third or fourth crossing.

“Yes,” Alex tells him. “There are many before we make it up to Berak. Taneria has spent wisely on making passage along the road as comfortable as possible. Not so much on the other side. There are few bridges there, mostly rough fords.”

“Even though they tax the traffic through the land?”

“Just so. No doubt the taxes are being spent elsewhere.”

Jamie stretches out his arms, high above his head, unkinking tired muscles in a very obvious way. Even Alex has to admit to himself that it has been a long day in the saddle.

“There’s a good campsite just beyond the next bridge,” he tells the group. “We’ll stop there for the night.”

Sure enough, just over the next stone bridge, the ground on the uphill side of the road opens out into a natural bowl, perhaps a hundred yards or so across at the widest. The wooded slopes offer protection from the worst of the weather and the crystal-clear stream that the bridge crosses, provides a good source of water on that eastern side.

“I think I remember this place,” Cato tells Jamie as they dismount in one corner of the well-used flat space available. “Even after many years, I seem to recall a waterfall back there with a deep pool at the base.”

“There is indeed,” Alex agrees. “No doubt we will not be alone here tonight. We must keep our wits about us and our tongues guarded.”

“Who is cooking?” Peta asks as he and Brion begin to unload the horses.

“I am,” Garvan tells him with an air of authority. “I’ll get a fire going if some of you will gather more wood.” He already has a few dry twigs in his hands and has begun to place them in one of the stone-ringed fire pits, even as he pulls a flint and steel from a tunic pocket.

Brion makes sure to hand down a couple of iron pots and a skillet from the first horse before he continues to stack the goods off to one side. It takes them only a few minutes to hobble the horses, unsaddle them and hang their nose-bags to feed them with some of their small supply of grain. Brion and Peta are quickly joined by Jamie to brush the animals all down and place a blanket across the back of each.

Jamie, not really a horseman, was fascinated to see just how much the horses appeared to enjoy being brushed, their movements under the brush almost sensual in their pleasure at each stroke.

Cato also seems keen to help, walking down to the stream with the two pots and returning with them filled with water. Garvan has, by the time the pots are carried up, set an iron stand over the slowly growing fire, even as Alex returns with an armful of white brittle branches.

One pot is quickly filled with a couple of handfuls of barley, some salt and a few different dried herbs from a stash that Garvan has managed to include in the packs. Bacon is quickly browned in the heat of the skillet, along with a couple of onions and a few chopped carrots. Transferred to the second pan, both are soon bubbling gently as the fire is skilfully managed. Again a few herbs and some sort of bright red powdered spice is added to the stew.

Setting up of camp is finished swiftly, bedding rolls placed close to the fire, even as the train of wagons that were passed earlier turn into the clearing and array themselves across one whole side of the space. Quickly the professional crew go about their own setting up, more practiced and efficient than Alex could expect from his own group, but not by much.

“How long, Garvan?” he asks after a moment, noticing that there is movement among the drivers and guards of the other group.

“Half-an-hour, more or less.”

“Time to clean up then. You’ll be okay here?” he asks Garvan.

“Of course.”

“I’ll remain for a while,” Cato adds. “I wish to write up my journal before the light fails completely.” He indicates the leather-bound book in his hands and his writing set in its delicately carved wooden box.

“Jamie?”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Just come along. We’re going to freshen up.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just stay here,” Jamie suggests as he shifts a little uncomfortably.

“No, you’re not. I saw how stiffly you got off your horse. Come along, you need this perhaps more than the rest of us do.”

“Okay, if you insist,” Jamie manages as he slowly gets back onto his feet with a groan that is only amplified when he takes a few tentative steps. “Yeah, you might have a point,” he adds with a wry smile.

At the back of the clearing, where the stream flows into view, the hillside steepens into a deeper valley that turns and twists, growing deeper as it meanders for perhaps a hundred yards. There’s a well-worn path along the side of the water and Alex and his companions are not the only men walking it. Brion has apparently grabbed a couple of towels that are now tucked under one arm.

Half-a-dozen of the wagon team are walking the same path, chatting to one another in friendly comfort. Peta and Brion exchange pleasantries and are soon chattering away with their fellow travellers, easy in the company of strangers. Hanging back, Jamie is much less confident, staying close to Alex and keeping his mouth closed.

Turning one last sharp corner, the valley opens out into a vertically-sided bowl, perhaps twenty yards wide and half as deep. On the far wall, a vertical cliff of dark rock, the stream cascades over a narrow falls and thunders into a pool that fills half of the open space.

In front of Jamie and Alex, the first of the men to arrive at the pool are already shedding their tunics or pulling shirts over their heads. Each finds a dry spot, well back from the edge of the pool, for their clothing and quickly strips down.

Jamie looks uncertainly at Alex and the others, but Alex just shrugs and finds a spot where he can begin to undress. The abandon of the rest of the bathers is infectious. There’s a keenness to simply get into the cool water and wash away the dust and the aches of a long day on the road.

“See, we’re all the same,” Alex whispers as Jamie reluctantly begins to undress. Others are already naked and, while one or two are tentative in their approach to the water, others simply take a couple of quick steps and dive right into the deep pool.

The wagon teams run the gamut of shapes and sizes, from slightly portly yet massively strong wagon drivers to muscular and athletic guards. Some are covered in body hair, some less so. Skin tones vary and it’s soon apparent that the only thing they have in common is their obvious maleness.

“The water is quite deep near the falls,” Alex tells Jamie as they approach the edge. “I never asked if you can swim.”

“Erm… No, no I can’t.”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of shallow water where our feet will touch the bottom. Getting in quickly is better. Come on!”

At first touch, the water is shockingly cold, taking the first breath away with a vicious sting. Alex wades out until he is thigh-deep and then dips quickly down until only his head is above the surface. He exhales deeply and quickly a few times as his body adjusts.

Jamie does his best to follow suit, but as his body submerges his exhale turns into a plaintive “Fuck!!” that gets a chuckle from several of the men already in the water.

“It’s okay, lad,” One of the wagon drivers calls from over beside the falls. “Your balls will come back down when it warms up a bit.” Jamie isn’t too sure whether he’s more embarrassed by the attention or the fact that the man knows exactly how his body has reacted to the sudden shocking cold. Despite that cold, he feels his face flush with unbidden heat.

After just a minute or so, though, his embarrassment is replaced by the realisation that the water is no longer feeling as cold and the heat in his thighs and buttocks from a day in the saddle is fading away, along with the easing of the ache in his back and shoulders. He and Alex have moved out until they are standing in the water, just deep enough to touch Jamie’s collarbones.

Alex dips his head beneath the water completely, shaking his longer hair loose in the liquid before standing back up and brushing the now wet hair clear of his face.

“Thank you,” Jamie manages after a minute or two. Men are already beginning to get out of the water, drying themselves quickly and getting dressed.

“For what?”

“Making me come along. It’s not as scary as I thought it might be.”

“Well, we should get out and dry off. Supper will be ready and I’m guessing Garvan will be cross if we’re late.”

Alex takes a few steps towards the bank, his body slowly rising out of the water with each step. “Alex, I need a minute,” Jamie mutters from behind him.

Alex turns back, his look a question. “What’s the problem?”

“I just need a minute,” Jamie mutters as he allows his gaze to drop, nodding down at his own body below the water.

It takes a moment for realisation to dawn, but Alex gets the message as he approaches and looks down. The water is crystal clear, certainly clear enough to see Jamie’s predicament from close by. “Then we’ll stay in the water a little longer,” Alex tells him simply.

The whole group of bathers have almost finished. From experience, Alex knows that there are often two groups. One group, like themselves, cool down before supper and the rest sometime after. Somebody will bring a torch or lamp along soon enough, as the light is now really fading fast.

“It’s not going away,” Jamie groans after another minute. Everyone else has now left the pool, leaving just Alex, Jamie and their bundles of clothes and a towel. “If anything, it’s worse.”

“Well, there’s only one thing for it, then. You’ll have to help it along.” Alex lifts one arm out of the water and makes a suggestive gesture with his hand, thumb and finger making a ring.

“Alex, that’s not helping.”

“No, well, honestly, it’s not helping me either,” Alex mutters with a nod in the direction of his own groin. “How do you expect me to react here.” Jamie can’t resist a glance down into the water where Alex’s now obvious erection is definitely visible.

That’s all Jamie needs to break his resolve. His hand crawls down his abdomen and he grasps himself firmly. Slowly at first, he begins to stroke himself, water splashing softly with each stroke. Alex takes a couple of steps back and grabs his own cock, gripping tightly and making long fast strokes. The young man in front of him is even more gorgeous when naked.

Jamie is watching Alex intently, lips slightly apart and arm now moving with increasing urgency. The added arousal of intimacy brings him to a rapid climax, his back arching as he stifles a moan and releases into the cold water of the pool. Alex follows him to a finish moments later, pumping his fist tightly on his cock through his pulsing orgasm.

The two men wait a moment, in silence before Alex gestures that they should get out of the water. As they dry off, neither man can avoid glances at the other, the post-orgasm tumescence making still-engorged members sensitive and obvious.

When Alex turns to slip into his trousers, Jamie smiles shyly at him when he looks over his shoulder. This, Alex thinks to himself, is a mistake.