He punched me on the arm. “Earl Simon and Lady Eleanor will be returning to Kenilworth shortly. The reason is, they’re to go to London next month, on the Feast of St. Edward the Confessor, to see Henry and Simon knighted by the prince! Their cousin Edward, you know.”
He seemed pleased with his news. I nodded, weighing it.
“They’ll stay on for Christmas here after that. They always do. Oh, Will, Christmas here is marvelous.”
“I believe you,” I told him politely. In truth, I felt a faint uneasiness at the thought of the older Montforts’ arrival. They seemed to bring trouble in their wake. But I squashed the thought. Thomas knew them better than I did, surely, and he was eager and excited.
“You will come to revere them as I do,” Thomas said. “I am sure of it.”
***
But there was only one person at Kenilworth that I loved. And those days since I glimpsed the cruel marks on his flesh had been hard. The odd thing was that, as time went on, he’d seemed more peaceful than he ever had been, sweet and tender with me. The only change to our habits now was that before bed we stood by the wall in the dark and embraced. The wall was important because one or the other of us, usually him, would find ourselves pressed up against it. I shivered with pleasure at these trembling, gentle kisses, but much as I wanted to push him down onto the mattress, I did not do so. And we remained clothed. I was actually hesitant to look at his back again, afraid it would put me in a rage.
I did not tell Stephen this, but I had plucked up the courage to talk to young Simon one day in the stables. He’d popped his head in and noticed me feeding Lucy, deep in thought. When he’d enquired how I was faring, which he often did, I’d blurted out impulsively, “My lord, the chaplain, Brother Michael—”
“Yes?” he’d asked, quirking an eyebrow. His golden-brown curls contrasted nicely with the deep blue of his eyes. And then, since I didn’t answer, “Has he ill-used you? You look pale these days, Will.”
“Not me, my lord, but... a friend of mine.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. He was an intelligent young man, Simon; there was no doubt about it.
“My mother thinks highly of him, unfortunately,” he said finally. “She’s always adored the friars, Franciscans and Dominicans both. A few years ago we all had to troop off to some village church where she and my father dedicated an altar to them. My elder brother’s quite pious as well. And Amaury, needless to say. I’m not, so you came to the right man.” He pondered some more. “Well, if he ever harms you, let me know. I’m afraid he probably has the right to bang his clerk about.”
My jaw dropped open and a huge flush spread over my face. I must have looked outraged.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” he said quickly. “But as I say, I’ll protect you if need be. And Will, when the time comes, I’d like you to be my squire.”
Once again, I stared at him in shock. “But Thomas—”
“Yes, he’s been here longer than you, but I happen to like you better. Your work, that is,” he continued smoothly. He smiled, and it was disarming, and for that moment things seemed all right. Then he ducked out of the stable door and left me alone with my thoughts and poor, patient Lucy.
***
That night I told Stephen what Thomas had said about the Montforts returning. I didn’t mention the conversation with Simon. We were lying in our separate beds, the candle had been doused, and we were both close to sleep.
“Are you glad?” I asked.
He paused for a long time. “Difficult to say. What I know is, they won’t stay very long. He’ll leave again next year. Earl Simon’s in trouble with the King.”
“But they’re about to go to London to see their sons knighted...”
“I know. But the King is doing it for his sister’s sake only. He absolutely hates Simon with a passion now. Sees him as a usurper, basically.”
I mused at this. “But Earl Simon doesn’t want to be king, does he?”
“He chafes at being ruled by someone whom he considers inferior,” Stephen said slowly. “Did you ever see the King, Will?”
“No, never. I don’t see how I would have.”
“Well, your father probably did. Shall I tell you what he looks like?”
“Go on,” I murmured, my voice thick with drowsiness. I liked it when we talked before sleep.
“He’s a short man with curly hair and a plump face. He’s stout, and he has one drooping eyelid, so his eye looks half closed.”
“Goodness!”
Stephen chuckled a little. “His father, King John, was quite ugly, you see, as well as wicked. But John married a very beautiful young girl, Isabella of Angouleme, blonde and tall. So the Lady Eleanor takes after her mother. She’s fair. And Earl Simon, of course, is...”
“Yes?” I prompted, as he had fallen silent.
“A stalwart, bearded man, quite dramatic-looking. Sometimes it all comes down to looks, doesn’t it? He won the King’s favor early on at court and then began a love affair with his sister Eleanor, who was a young widow; she’d taken a vow of chastity. You must know some of this? The King let them marry, but he was angry about it. Felt Simon forced his hand. Then Simon was in favor again for a bit. Then King Henry flew into another rage and banished them from England for a few years when young Henry was just a baby. It was a row over money. The King felt used, exploited by those two. He publicly humiliated them at court, shouting to the Earl, “You seduced my sister!” It’s lucky Simon had his lands in France to retreat to. When they came back after that serious falling-out, the King gave them Kenilworth Castle. And Simon became the Earl of Leicester.”
I nodded. “Stephen, I must rest now.” I yawned. “These old quarrels are strange. To think you know so much about them, I mean.”
He laughed quietly. “Yes, far too much. Of course, it’s all been chronicled by monks like Matthew Paris, but then there’s so much that hasn’t been written down.”
The darkness was swirling around me, but I remember as I drifted into sleep that night, I had the uneasy thought that Stephen could see all our secrets, all of us there at the castle, and surely noble lords and ladies would hate it if they knew their secrets were so transparent...
“But you can only see the future, no? Not the past,” I mumbled, confused.
All I remember him saying was, “Sometimes it’s hard to determine whether what I see is the future or the past.
Chapter 5
A few days later a deep horn sounded, shaking me from my sleep.
“What’s that?” I mumbled, opening my eyes. Stephen was already at the window peering out, his woolen tunic blocking out the light, his legs bare and goose-pimpled.
“It means the Earl and his lady will be back this morning. We’re all expected to gather in the courtyard to greet them.”
His voice was light, yet not really excited. He must have witnessed many of these arrivals over the years, I thought.
As I lay there, yawning, he pulled the tunic over his head in an unusual gesture, since it bared his body to me. I took in his slim, pale figure, his long limbs, his nakedness. For a moment he let me look. Then he turned away from the window towards his bed.
“Your back...” I said slowly. I whistled. His back was completely unmarked, clear, as if nothing had ever marred it.
“Yes,” he said simply, drawing on a long-sleeved shirt and letting it fall over his torso.
“What does it mean?”
“It means,” Stephen said slowly, standing over me now, “that I found other ways to distract him.”
I could say nothing to that. In fact, my face flushed and my belly clenched in discomfort.
“I’ll show you if you like, later. I’ll demonstrate,” he said, the ghost of a smile on his face.
He bent down and kissed me gently, but I pulled him down to me, and with my new-found strength, he yielded easily.
I wrapped my arms around him and listened to his heart beating.
“Will, this was a good shirt,” he prot
ested meekly.
“Take it off, then.”
The shirt came off and he flung it back onto his own bed.
I rolled on top of him, kissing him and nipping gently at his neck.
“Don’t do that... oh, Will.”
I was naked now too. We ground together almost silently, but every gasp I heard from him spurred me on.
It was the first time we’d been naked in bed together, I realized, but it felt like it should have happened much earlier. I was more than ready. I liked looking down at him, too, in the dim early morning light.
“Don’t you want me?” I whispered. I was aching and hard, and it seemed strange that he would give himself to someone else and not to me.
“More than anything,” he answered simply. He stroked my stiff length, looking up at me, and then said, “Lie back.”
I obeyed, and watched as he lowered himself down to my groin area, taking my cock in his mouth slowly, looking up as if to gauge the effect.
I cursed under my breath, shocked at the sensation, my hand grasping his hair but trying to be gentle.
So this was what he did... What men did with each other...
The wet warmth of his mouth was lulling me into a trance as he moved it up and down, but when I released it was like a hot blast inside. In shock, I watched him swallow my seed.
“You do that?” I said wildly. “With him?”
He looked at me calmly, or seemingly so. “Would you prefer what happened before? That my body gets used?”
“No, but...”
“It’s not like this with him, Will.” He licked his lips slightly and I stared at his flushed face in fascination. “It’s mechanical.”
“And with me?”
“The opposite. I can’t help touching you, pleasuring you. I need to,” he said, shrugging slightly.
“It’s passion, isn’t it? What we feel?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Yes, I’ve never felt it before, so it must be.”
I reached out to touch his face, and he slowly moved up to kiss me, closing his eyes. I tasted my own salty seed on his tongue.
“I’m sorry, Will.”
We were clasped together now, lying side by side. I held him tightly, as if he would escape, and reached down to stroke his cock. He shuddered against me and soon cried out gently.
I felt him release all over my hand and belly. Then, bringing my fingers up to my mouth, I tasted the salty liquid. It felt very daring.
He was watching me in wonder. “You didn’t need to do that.”
I smiled. “I wanted to. And you didn’t need to say sorry. I know you didn’t choose this life.”
“I feel like I’m a different person when I’m with him,” Stephen said, eyes lowered. “I don’t like that person. But I’ve not been able to stop it. He wants what he wants. Before he came, you know, I was different. There was another friar and he was a good man, almost a friend. Fatherly. I loved serving him.”
I shook my head. It was hard to know what to say. “I hate it that I can’t protect you.” My voice was rough with frustration.
“I love it that you want to!” he said almost gaily. He looked happy now, relaxed and satisfied. “Oh, Will, that was so good, what we just did. Don’t you think?”
“Of course.” But my thoughts were bleak. “It’s good, but I want it to be just you and me.
He nodded. “Naturally, you want that. And I do see it.”
“Yes, but when?” I asked.
“You won’t like the answer.” His blue eyes looked directly into mine. “It could be a year from now. Or more. I see it happening around Christmas. There’s snow.” He blinked and his eyes took on a hazy quality. I watched in fascination. “It’s unlikely to be this Christmas, isn’t it?” he mused.
“What usually happens at Christmas?” I asked.
“Well, he goes back to the priory. In Coventry, you know.”
“Every Christmas? That’s interesting.”
“Yes, every year. But even once he’s left the castle,” his eyes were brightening again now, becoming present, “I don’t see us making love for a long time.”
Since I said nothing, just bit my lip in frustration, he volunteered, “It’s in a different season. Even... a different place. Somewhere I haven’t been yet.”
He smiled slightly, as if thinking of it.
“Not the castle,” I said slowly.
He shook his head. “A woodland place.”
I had no idea where he meant, but I was enjoying feeling his silky body against me, the play of emotion on his face, and I said impulsively, “I’ll wait, then. I’ll wait till you’re comfortable.”
He leaned over to kiss me.
“I could never force you,” I whispered. “That would be the greatest sin.”
He nodded, his breath warm against my face. “That is a sin, I believe. But what we did just now...there’s no shame in it. To my mind, anyway.”
I assented. “Only delight.”
***
It was in that giddy holiday mood that we stood together in the courtyard in late September. I expected him to separate himself from me, but he did not, and that seemed significant. It was a chilly day, and everyone who could, including us, donned cloaks. I watched Brother Michael out of the corner of my eye. He stood with the trio of Montfort sons, a fatuous smile on his face. The brothers had decided that they would not ride out to meet their parents, but the younger son, Guy, who had joined them at the high table recently, fresh from his schooling, was restless and decided to go alone. We watched him canter off, a tousle-haired and tough young lad of sixteen. He kept himself apart from us squires, not wanting to be seen as one, I supposed. He preferred to spar with his brothers and the older knights.
Thomas and Christiana stood near us, and as the morning wore on, they came over to share loaves of freshly baked bread. Thomas had obtained a jug of wine. He seemed slightly drunk, swaying as he stood there, and Christiana too was uncharacteristically flushed.
“Oh, I’ll be so happy to have my lady back!” she exclaimed. “And little Eleanor. Such a precious child.”
“It means more work for you,” Thomas said.
“More work, ’tis certain, but I never feel comfortable with Lady Eleanor gone. The castle never feels right.”
“Odd, but I feel the same about Earl Simon,” Thomas admitted.
Stephen said nothing. I glanced at him and our eyes met. It was impossible not to be dazzled by his beauty. When my glance returned to Thomas and Christiana, they were smiling at each other, oblivious of us. They were falling in love; I saw it now. My gaze returned to Stephen and my throat dried. Far off, I could hear the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats approaching the castle. I could see a red banner fluttering in the distance.
All eyes were trained expectantly on the castle gate. I leaned over to speak in Stephen’s ear. He inclined his head slightly, clearly expecting my words to be casual.
“I love you,” I whispered.
He pulled back, his eyes wide, and before he could stop himself, he flashed me a delighted smile. Then I watched as he steeled his expression, moved away from me slightly.
I glanced over at the sons and Brother Michael. The sons were watching the gate, Simon’s hand on Henry’s shoulder, Amaury standing slightly apart with a sober expression. Brother Michael, though, was looking straight at us, his heavy brows knitted together.
Then the horses burst through the gate. It was the banner that appeared first: a white lion rampant, claws out, with a forked tail against a scarlet background—Earl Simon’s family crest. And then the man himself rode in on a black horse, followed by a litter. My eye was drawn to his square face, his well-trimmed beard. He looked both strong and elegant. Sir Richard de Havering was somewhere there in the mix, too, along with a grinning Guy de Montfort, leaping lightly off his horse.
The sons approached as their father dismounted, and I watched him clasp them each in turn. “Father,” and “my dear Father,” I heard them mutter. “My lord,” Am
aury said more formally.
The curtains of the litter opened, and a slim, petite woman emerged, her head formally covered, holding a chubby little fair-haired girl by the hand.
The sons were far more ardent in their embraces to their mother, and the little girl danced about, instantly made much of by the servants. Christiana ran over to greet her.
In no time at all, the smiling lady approached our little group. I wasn’t sure whether to bow, as all of the servants had seemed to, but Stephen remained standing, just bobbing his head a little bit. I did the same. She took us in, her round blue eyes and aquiline nose reminding me where her sons had got their looks. Her smile was vibrant, with something almost roguish about it. Earl Simon had joined us and looked at us steadily. He was dressed rather plainly, to my surprise, in the brown cloth we called russet.
“Ah, Stephen,” he said. “And the young squires. Thomas and...”
“This is Will Talbot, my lord,” Thomas piped up.
“I see. I knew your good father well. A sad loss. God rest his soul,” Earl Simon said. His intent eyes sized me up, and I could see that he was thinking about my value to him on a battlefield. His wife had a different look, as if she was weighing my worth as a human being, my potential loyalty to herself and her husband. She evidently decided in my favor.
“My husband and I welcome you to Kenilworth,” Lady Eleanor said. Her voice was pleasant, musical. “We are only sorry to have been away so long. These past two years have been dreadful! We’ve been turned into wandering gypsies, haven’t we, Simon?”
“Yes, my love,” her husband replied in a tone of affectionate irony. “What I don’t like is returning and seeing that my sons are taller than I am. Guy was a shock.”
Christiana rejoined us, and I was surprised to see Lady Eleanor embrace her. “How I’ve missed you, my dear Christiana,” she cooed. “Look how you’ve grown. A proper young maid!”
Blushing, Christiana said, “Thank you, my lady. You look as beautiful as ever.”
A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth Page 4