In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or forbidden for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two consenting young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request marin.giustinian@laposte.net. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
The action takes place in Scotland in the mid 19th Century.
ROBIN AND RAVEN
by Marin Giustinian
Robin was a very comely blond lad who worked as a hireling, in other words, a wage-slave in an old ordinary road house or inn, if you want, called the Golden Grouse. It was on the edge of a rather remote village. The road heading north to the highlands passed just in front. He swept, cleaned tables, ran errands, tended the fire and did just about any other menial task that was needed done. It was a lot of labour for a boy of hardly sixteen.
Raven was a lone, young Gypsy traveling north in his horse drawn wagon. Such a wagon is called a 'vardo'. Raven is his nickname, of course, because of his very black hair. He was eighteen and a skilled basket maker. His work sold for a good price too. Raven's looks impressed people. He contrasted with the image of the scraggly waggly Gypsy. He was handsome, well mannered and very well groomed. To sum him up, you could say that he was simply charming. Strangely enough, he was traveling alone. In fact, he had been banished from his tribal clan further south, in England, near London, because of his strong character. He had downright refused to marry the girl his father had chosen for him and in his clan you just don't disobey your father. Well, he disobeyed. He even confessed that he didn't want a woman in his life whatsoever.
The only person who more or less understood him was an uncle, his mother's bachelor brother. He had sort of taken Raven under his wing and now that his nephew was banished, he gave him an old 'vardo' which he fixed up. He even loaned him enough money to buy a horse. In fact, he was rather well off but hid his money well from the others to avoid any possible jealousy. So here was Raven, with a decent means of existence, a skill in his hands and a smart as well as handsome head on his shoulders. He had struck out on his own close to a year ago, fleeing the stench of the cities. He needed nature. Perhaps that was why he was heading, for no other apparent reason, all the way up to the highlands of Scotland.
The Golden Grouse Inn and public house looked like a friendly enough place to make a stopover, rest his horse and try to sell some of the baskets he still had. He showed up in the pub with several kinds, smiled and very politely presented his ware. Luck was on his side. The innkeeper examined his work, then looked at the young man and simply said that he needed eight big baskets for fire wood and four wicker trunks for linens. He then asked if that could be done and if so, how long would it take him to do it and how much would it cost him? Raven replied that such a job would take him at least a fortnight or more. He had to collect the wicker down on the banks of the close by River Spey, process it and then weave it into the requested items. He asked a pound for all the work and they agreed on eighteen shillings and a meal a day in the kitchen. For the rest of his food, he could buy what he needed from the lady who ran and stocked the kitchen.
Behind the Inn there was a stable with a watering trough fed by a fresh spring flowing through and a little open shed for him to work under. The innkeeper told him he could set up his camp in the nearby wooded grove, out of sight from the inn. Gypsy folk were a bit frowned upon, as everywhere, by the locals. Bad for the business. Raven answered, "No problem, Milord!"
He went to the spot and started settling in. He had just finished in time for supper. He washed his hands and face, combed his hair and went into the kitchen where he was greeted by a buxom peasant woman who closely inspected him with a severe look of authority.
"So you're the heathen I've got to feed for the next few weeks," exclaimed Mrs. Patty.
"That I be, M'am!" Raven replied, bowing with a brilliant smile.
"Nice looking and polite at that, I must say -- have a seat over there by the fire. You'll be satisfied with what I give you and there's no ale provided here. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly, M'am. I'm sure I'm going to relish your fine cooking if I can judge by the good smell coming out of the stew pot bubbling there on the stove".
"Shut up and mind how you talk to me, Gypsy boy!" she quipped back, chucking.
While Raven was eating, a filthy blond angel barged through the kitchen loaded with a tray full of beer mugs and disappeared into the rear scullery.
Mrs. Patty screamed, "Robin, once you're done rinsing out the mugs, run and fetch me some more wood and a loaf of bread, and be swift, mind you!"
"Yes, M'am!" he yelled back.
Robin came back in with a bundle of split firewood under one arm and a big loaf of barley bread under the other. He dropped the loaf on the table and was placing the wood on the dwindling pile next to the hearth. That's when he noticed Raven crouched by the fire eating his stew out of a bowl.
Raven smiled at him saying, "Good evening Robin. I'm Raven, the basket-maker".
Looking a bit afraid of the Gypsy, Robin shied back some, yet fascinated by his smiling eyes, he didn't flee.
"How come you know my name?"
"I heard our boss lady call you. That's all!"
They both laughed as Robin said, "Sure! And welcome to the Golden Grouse!" Then whispering closer to Raven's ear, he informed him, "Don't fear Mrs. Patty. She's gruff but down inside she's really kind. However, the boss, doesn't give a damn about us menial folk. Got to go now! See you around, Raven. I like the name!"
And with that, he scampered away, nimble and light as a ferret.
"Don't let that scullion bother you, Gypsy boy. He's a bit special. Nice to have around though. He sings like a bird -- guess it's because of the name his mother gave him," commented Mrs. Patty as she gave Raven a chunk of bread to clean out the bowl and finish the stew.
"He lives around here?"
"Not around here! He lives IN here, in the former stable boy's room back in the commons, by the old horse stalls! His folks dumped him here a year ago when they all packed up and went to Nova Scotia. He's the runt of the litter and his dad said he's completely useless, so he sort of 'sold' him to McDoodle who works him to the cord. He's alone as they come, poor rascal. At least with us he doesn't starve!"
"I see," mused Raven, sopping out the last trace of stew in his bowl, "Thank you M'am. I feel a lot better!"
"Here, take some bread and this slice of cheese and little bit of tea for the morning."
"How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing for the moment, Gypsy! It's my little welcoming gift to the poor. Helps a sinner like me to get to heaven later! Now get out of my kitchen!" she scolded, joking and giggling like a happy hen.
Once Raven was back to his camp, he took care of his horse, peed and climbed into his vardo. He lit a fire in the little cast iron stove and put the kettle on. He liked to wash up before turning in. The soft light of his lamp and the sudden warmth of the stove relaxed him as he thought about his luck.
"The weather's clear. Tomorrow, I've got to whet my sickle and cut all the finest willow I can find," he mumbled as he sponged himself down. He dabbed a drop of patchouli under each pit and on his pubic curls and crawled, naked in bed, snuggling under the fluffy fur covers.
The Inn was quiet and in the night, no sound was to be heard. He tossed and turned in his bed, not finding sleep as fast as usual. His thoughts wandered between the job he had agreed on and Robin.
Ah Robin! The lad was gorgeous -- but absolutely filthy. His dull blond hair was a matted mess and his nails were black as coal. He stunk like a rotten potato when he bent over talking close to Raven's face.
Raven had been raised to be as stealthy and clean as a cat. However, he seemed to overdo it some -- much to his advantage, as it were. Finally, he was dozing off with images of beautiful baskets and a well groomed Robin floating around in his head when he heard in the distance, the faint lullaby sounds of song and a concertina floating through the winter silence.
Sighing, he fell at last asleep.
Raven woke before dawn, dressed, kindled his fire and made himself a big bowl of tea. Sitting by the stove, he carefully sharpened his sickle. The old whetstone put a razor sharp edge on the curved blade. He then fetched a hook and line to fish with, baiting it with a bit of cheese. The river was going to be doubly bountiful this morning, he thought : trout and wicker.
Once everything was ready and day was breaking, he strode down to the water and began reaping his willow. He bundled them into bunches, tied them and laid them out on the banks. He then found himself a nice slender pole, cut it, attached his line and tempted the fish. On the forth try, he landed a nice fat speckled trout.
"You will be just fine for supper! Thank you for biting!" he whispered to the fish wiggling in his hand. He strung up the fish, tied it to a bundle of willow he hoisted onto his back and climbed up to his camp.
After several other trips to the riverbank, his stock of wicker was neatly stashed under the shed. The watering trough would be perfect for soaking the willow. Having what he wanted for supper, he decided to have lunch in the kitchen with Mrs. Patty.
"Good day! I hope all is well M'am."
"You again!"
"Yes, M'am, I wish to enjoy your lunch today. I fished a trout for my supper."
"Lucky you! Have a seat," she pointed to a chair at the table this time.
Apparently he had been promoted in the eyes of Mrs. Patty. She served him a good hearty lunch which he really appreciated after such a strenuous morning. As he was eating, Robin came through again, paused a moment to smile and say 'hello', grabbed a broom and went back into the pubic room.
"The boy seems to fancy you, Gypsy. He rarely says 'hello' to anybody."
"And do others say 'hello' to him?"
She considered the question a moment and then replied, "You've got a point there, Gypsy!"
"My name's Raven, M'am..."
"Raven?"
"Well, it's a nickname. We 'Gypsies', as you 'Gadjis' say, never use our real names and my mother called me Raven because of my hair."
"Gadjis? What's that?"
"A 'Gadjo', that's what we Gypsies call your kind of people."
Looking a bit astonished, she then admitted, "I guess that's fair enough!" she laughed and musing some she added, "Raven, Robin! I've only got birds messing up my kitchen! Would you like another helping, Raven?"
"I'd be delighted, M'am! Thank you."
"Humph! 'Gadjo', 'Gadjis'... who could imagine Gypsies calling us names like that?" she muttered, puffing back to her cooking.
As Raven left the table, Robin scurried into the kitchen, loaded with dishes, crossing their ways. Nearly colliding, they avoided the catastrophe by an inkling.
"That was close! I'm sorry Robin."
"No offence... Nothing broke, nothing fell!" he replied, lifting his eyes, gazing a bit spellbound at Raven.
"If you have a moment off, come and see me under the back shed. I'd enjoy the company," mentioned Raven, tilting his head.
Beaming like the sun, he answered, "I saw your stuff propped up there. I might just come, since you've invited me. Thank you! I've got to run now! Bye!"
Once outside, Raven breathed in the clean icy air, smiling for all he was worth. It was a beautiful day indeed!
The preparatory work on the wicker is long and fastidious. You have to strip the bark, thin as skin, sort them out by size, keep them wet so that they don't become brittle. Raven built a little fire under the shed to keep himself from freezing. He worked without gloves and his numb fingers needed to warm up some over the fire from time to time. It really didn't put out that much heat but it did cut the chill. Also, he thought, that way he could cook his trout on the coals without stinking up his vardo. Snow was starting to fall as the day declined. Raven went back into the woods to gather some dead branches for his fire and when he came back, there was Robin waiting for him, having placed a small kettle and two bowls nearly on the coals.
"Here, let me help you!" explained Robin as he took some of the branches and began breaking them, "I brought us some tea. Thought it could heat you up some, but I see you know how to keep warm. Keen idea!"
"Thanks Robin! That's really nice of you and a bowl of hot tea is always welcome!"
They sipped, contemplating the fire, not really knowing what to say. They kept smiling, glancing at each other, like two little, bashful boys. Then, just at the same time, they both spoke.
"Excuse me! you were saying?" asked Raven, giggling.
"No, It's me who broke in," replied Robin.
"I was just going to ask you, was that you playing music and singing last night?"
"You heard me?"
"Yes, just a little -- it was nice. Nice like a lullaby..."
"I love music. I make up songs all by myself. It comforts me when I'm sad or lonely or sometimes, both... I'm glad you liked it!" glowed Robin.
"Could you come by and sing some here? I'd really like to hear you better."
"Of course! I could come by in the evening after work. That is if there's nobody left drinking in the public room. There shouldn't be tonight -- too much snow's on its way, I feel."
"If you see that there's light in my wagon, that means I'm awake and glad you could come.
By the time Raven had cooked his fish and eaten, the wind had picked up and the snow was beginning to drift. He tied his horse under the shelter and fed it. He then made his way back through the flurries to the vardo.
He lit the stove and lamp, put the kettle on and settled down to sketch some in his notebook. Drawing was his favourite pastime and he was getting better and better at it. He enjoyed sketching little things. Things that could fit inside his tiny home : flowers, fruit, various objects, his own face in the mirror. As he was doing a sketch of the sickle he used that morning, he heard a faint knock on his door.
He rose and went to open, knowing that it could only be Robin. As he let the lad in, a gust of snow blew into the wagon as well as the foul odour of his guest.
"Hurry in! I'm glad you could come! I was just going to wash myself some."
Robin looked a bit dumbfounded, glancing around in the small space.
"How do you wash here? It's too little, isn't it?" he asked.
"Simple, I'll show you. We can even wash each other! From what I smell, you could use a bit of bathing yourself, don't you think?" spurted out Raven, thinking it was the best way to clear the air!
With that, Robin eyes shot wide open, shocked, yet intrigued, he simply said, "Why not?"
Raven poured some of the boiling water from the kettle into a bucket, unplugged the drainage hole in the floor and began undressing.
"What are you waiting for, Robin? Take off your clothes like me. I can lend you some of mine once you're clean. Yours are really too filthy to put back on a clean body."
Admiring a very naked Raven, Robin quietly obeyed, stripped and stood by the stove as Raven lathered a cloth with soap. Its perfume filled the space, making things smell already much better. He took a bowl and poured the warm water over Robin's head and massaged his scalp and hair with soap. He scrubbed also his face and ears in dire need of attention. Handing him a twig of sassafras, he told him, "Chew on this and rub your teeth with the shredded end. Make them nice and slick."
As Robin went about working on his teeth, he relaxed, no longer feeling like he was in such an unusual situation. Raven then scrubbed his back side from head to heel, insisting on the crack between his perky buttocks, and then turning him around, did the front side just as well, insisting on his pits and very erect, slim cock. Robin immediately halfway laughed, halfway moaned. "Oh my God, that feels heavenly!" he gasped. To top it all off, Raven rubbed him down with a towel and there he stood, clean and gleaming like a brand new threepence.
"My turn now, do me while your hair dries."
Robin gingerly took the washcloth, lathered it well and pleasured his handsome new friend's body all over in return. As the wind howled outside and the snow built up against the vardo, shaking ever so slightly, spirits were riding high.
Robin finished rinsing and towelling Raven who then grabbed his tiny bottle of patchouli and smeared a drop on himself and then on Robin's blond hair. His locks gracefully fell around his face and his pubic curls were shining with hints of gold in the lamplight, crowning the curve of his perfect cock. Raven admired the absolute beauty of his companion, now looking more like an angel, a fairy prince than a wretched little beggar.
He put some more wood in the stove, hopped up on the bed and invited Robin to just slip one of his fur jackets on and come play some music, sitting beside him. For perhaps the first time, did Robin feel companionship, complicity and even a touch of lust for another human. He hopped up on the bed, close to Raven, took his concertina in hand and began to play, singing a lovely little ballad about a fox and a rabbit frolicking together under the falling snow.
They still hadn't bothered to dress. As the fire dwindled in the stove, a little chill began to creep into the vardo.
"I dread going back to my room. The fire's certainly out and with this kind of wind, draughts pierce my bones with no mercy whatsoever! I only have some straw to sleep on and my covers barely keep me from freezing. Here it's so nice and warm, cozy and... and friendly," he said, smiling into Raven's dark eyes.
"Well, then stay. It's not more complicated than that."
"Really! Can I stay here, with you?"
"That's what I said! Look, the bed is big enough for two, that is if they get along well together. Ha!"
"I get along very well with you, Raven."
"And I, with you, dear Robin -- and I with you."
Raven pulled the fur covers back saying, "Blow out the lamp, drop the jacket and crawl in here with me. You're all so nice, soft and warm."
By pure instinct and grace the two young men cuddled together and trembled some as their pure desire for each other filled their hearts and even more their leaking cocks.
"Did you connive this only to lure me into your bed, Raven?" asked Robin, giggling a little.
"Your stench made me act. Your beauty and song made me swoon. Your warmth is now seeking mine. I don't know who lured whom, but I feel we are both on the way to overflowing," replied Raven kissing Robin's moist lips. Their hands danced together, pleasing each other's silken sex.
The whistling wind covered their sighs as the snow swirled around them, all through the night.
The next morning, a bright sun was rising. When they wiped the frost off the window pane over the bed everything seemed like a winter fairy land. Raven rolled over almost on Robin, caressed his cheek and pushed back a lock of hair on his forehead. He then leaned in and tenderly kissed the smile on his bedfellow's lips. Robin kissed him back, whispering, "Good morning my beautiful Gypsy king".
"Good morning, my gorgeous fairy prince. Let's get underway!"
"Do we really have to?" mockingly pouted Robin, laughing a little.
"Yes! And fast or I'm going to bust open, peeing all over you!"
Jumping up out of bed, Robin ripped the covers off of Raven who yelped and cursed, then pulled on his coat and stood by the door, pissing abundantly in the slop jar. In between time, Robin went about dressing in his filthy rags.
"Stop!" shouted Raven. He turned to a drawer and pulled out breeches, shirt, socks and a jacket, "Put these on. I'll take care of the rest of your dirty rags!"
Of course Robin obeyed, gave another peck on Raven's cheek and ran out of the vardo, traipsing through the drifted snow.
Raven returned to his job. He lit the fire under the shed and put Robin's clothes to soak as he worked, still processing the wicker. When lunch time came around, he went back to the kitchen.
"What have you done to Robin? He's clean as a whistle, smells good and got your kind of clothes on him! I hardly recognised him when he came in. You're working miracles now, are you?" Mrs. Patty rattled off as she brought the food.
"Not miracles, M'am. Just a friendly helping hand."
"I bet your hands were friendly enough, helping each other a lot! Goodness gracious, you boys can't keep your hands off it, can you? Well, I guess there's not much around here to entertain lads your age and nature must have it's way! Ah, God almighty, if it keeps you out of trouble and makes you smell good too, then the Lord sees no harm! The lad's happy. He's smiling for nothing!"
"I think Robin and I are going to be good friends, M'am. That makes me happy too."
While Raven was eating, Robin came dashing in as usual, gave Raven a big smile and headed back into the public room, hands full of a platter of roast and potatoes. When Raven was finished, he carried his own plate back to the scullery and bought some victuals from Mrs. Patty who, winking at him, chipped in a few extras after he had paid her.
"You growing boys need energy in this kind of Godforsaken weather!"
"Thank you! I'll make a fancy basket only for you! Bless you. How's Mr. McDoodle. I haven't seen him around."
"You won't see the old bastard here in my kitchen. He never comes in here. This is MY territory and he knows it. He's always busy bossing Robin around anyhow in the public room, at the tables, behind the bar and then there's the rooms upstairs. I wonder what he thinks about the boy getting himself all clean and nice smelling! He can't help but like it. The poor thing did leave a putrid stench behind him and nobody came up with the idea of washing him down, it being winter and all. Don't worry. If McDoodle needs to see you, he knows where to find you, but the less you see him, the better off you are, believe me!"
Raven went back to work, rinsed Robin's clothes, went into the stable to hang them up and seeing the deplorable state of the place, unfit for humans, he decided to keep Robin in with him every night.
Robin came over around mid-afternoon. Raven told him what he saw and asked if he would come and sleep again in the vardo. Robin simply jumped on him, hugging him tight and said, "Like last night?"
"Even better! Now I've got work to do. See you later... By the way. Where do you eat?"
"I eat the left overs that I clear off the inn tables. Don't worry. I eat well enough."
"If that suits you, why not?"
"See you tonight! Bye... and thanks again. I like you a lot, you know, Raven!"
"I like you too, Robin. Very much!"
Robin wasn't late coming back. He was dismissed at eight o'clock after sweeping behind the last customer in the public room. When he knocked on the door of the vardo, Raven had finished drying Robin's threadbare clothes over the stove. It was warm, almost hot inside. The kettle was hissing as the water was coming to a boil.
"Would you fancy some tea?"
"I certainly do, Raven! Thank you for the clothes. I'm rather ashamed of them though. I have another change a bit less worn out in my trunk but I'm saving it for later, when I finish up here... if I finish up here. At any rate, I don't want to FINISH here."
"Keep the clothes I gave you if you want. They look good on you."
After a moment of silence, Robin inquired, a bit worried, "Why are you so nice to me, Raven?"
"I don't know. Here's your tea. Enjoy."
There was another moment of silence. It was a gentle silence, not heavy. Robin looked lovingly at Raven and Raven studied his cup of tea, then spoke up, "I don't know if I'm nice or not to you. You just give me the want to give you things, to cover you with good things, share beautiful moments with you. I think I've been alone too long. I was getting used to being alone -- and then I saw you and..."
"And now you're no longer alone. Me neither. When two solitudes merge, I think that must be what older people call love."
"Enough thinking! It makes me nervous," exclaimed Raven, "Would you sing me something while I draw you?"
"You want to draw me?"
"I have to draw you. When I draw, I feel like I really see what I'm drawing. I want to REALLY see you, Robin. Nobody has ever made me feel like I do when we're together. Last night was so, so beautiful. I can't let that feeling flee. If I draw you, maybe my soul can see yours."
"And if I sing, then you can hear it."
As Raven was taking his sketch pad out of its drawer and was sharpening his pencil, Robin undressed.
"Why are you taking your clothes off?"
"If you want to really see me, I should be naked, shouldn't I?"
"Of course! -- You're so right! Yes... The soul is our truth and truth, like trust, must be naked. How wise of you!"
"There, do you want me to sing now?"
"Please."
Standing in the lamplight, nude, Robin sang just sounds, melodious sounds without words. He sang, he hummed, his voice soared and then hushed almost to a sigh, then back to vocalising again, gay, light, joyous. Raven sketched as tears fell from his eyes onto the paper.
He laid aside his drawing, saying, "Too much beauty! It almost hurts!"
He stood and stepped up to Robin. He wrapped his arms around his companion's waist. Robin took Raven's face between his hands, drawing him into a tender, loving kiss.
Robin was blushing, his cock pointing up, as he stepped back and started to undress Raven. The shirt fell, then the trousers. A scent of patchouli and male exhaled in the heat of the nearby stove. Robin gently shoved Raven to the bed. As he sat, he pulled off the boots and stockings and jumped into the covers. Raven laughed, wrestled him back and they rolled, rollicking in the fur. Their kisses became frantic, covering necks and chests and pits and tits, bellies and cocks, sucking, swallowing and licking to heart's content. Coiled in the spiral of a shared fellatio they hummed and tongued and sucked as they trembled, bucking, pulsing and finally spewing their semen into each other. Their offerings had crossed, breaching their abolished loneliness forever. In the fever of their love being made, they weren't yet aware that their fates were bound to each other like the fate of the night is bound to that of the day. Endlessly they bond.
Raven blew out the lamp, poured the cold tea back into the pot and crawled up entwining his legs with Robin's, holding him tight.
"Tomorrow we must talk. We cannot be separated. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, I know that. So we'll just stay together -- just like fate meant for us to stay. If my parents left me here, it was for me to meet you."
"And for me to come all this way to the middle of nowhere, alone and banished from my clan for having refused a bride my father had chosen, it was because you were waiting for me. I had to come!"
"Good night my loving man."
"Good night..."
For the following days and nights, they shared their lives in the vardo. They enjoyed each other, body and soul, all ways imaginable, and then some. Every leisure moment was dedicated to each other with glee, bliss and fun.
They spoke about their past, their joys and tribulations of boyhood and then those of coming of age. Both had experienced despair, injustice, banishment and abandon. They learned the hard way how to take care of their needs and even more so, of their souls.
It so happened that Raven had an advantage over Robin. Even though being Romany, he grew up in a climate of relative ease. The clan to which he belonged was very well appreciated as basket makers and had numerous outlets for their production in London. Raven's bachelor uncle had more or less adopted the boy, initiating him to the pleasures of male-to-male play together. Being a bachelor was considered, to a certain extent, being a misfit, but since he knew how to read and write, having been tenderly befriended by a very affectionate clergyman, he had a key position in the family business. At any rate, he was above all the wealthiest of them all, having no one to spend his money on other than Raven. He was the one who gave Raven the taste and means of being well groomed, clean and stylishly dressed, even if the style were that of a Gypsy.
Robin on the other hand was from basic, Scottish peasant stock. His family was poor, coming from the poor. However, by some mysterious trick of fate a generation or two back, they were owners of their own terribly dilapidated house and surrounding barren land. After the hardships and near famine they endured several years earlier, they decided to sell their house and land and attempt a better life in Nova Scotia, the new Scotland of Canada. However they didn't have enough money for everybody to go. They married off the twin girls and kept only the valiant boys, a choice which eliminated the youngest, Robin. Mr. McDoodle accepted to take the lad in for him to work but he supposedly 'forgot' to draw up any kind of legal papers, contract or document clearly defining the boy's duties and corresponding wages. The boy had a parish birth certificate and that was it.
Raven also told him about his experience alone on the road. He had managed well, never being in want neither of food for himself nor his horse and he had always had gleaned free wood for his fire. On the other hand, he had suffered from discrimination and reject which, on the other hand, preserved him from being enslaved by working the land or labouring for others in the filthy, smoking factories that were appearing day after day. Freedom was the only life he could live and now that love had paired him with Robin, that freedom was meant to be shared together, whatever be the difficulties, hardships or injustices lurking along the way. Robin understood all of that very well. Neither couldn't wait to hit the road!
The morning Raven's job was finished, he delivered his baskets directly to Mr. McDoodle who politely thanked and paid him, saying that he had to rid the premises of his presence before noon.
Robin packed his meagre belongings and didn't show up for work. He was singing all the time! Raven came to fetch him and both went to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Patty good-bye. Raven gave her the promised fancy, little basket and said, "It's been a pleasure knowing you M'am. Thank you for feeding and treating me so well."
"The pleasure was mine, Raven. I didn't know that you heathen Gypsies could be more more gentlemanly than these drunken, red-nosed, loud-mouthed, stinking wretches I have to put up with all the time around here," then noticing Robin, she blurted, "What's he doing here with you? Shouldn't he be off to work already?"
"He's leaving with me," replied Raven.
"Oh! my precious Lord! Is that true, Robin?"
"It's as true as fire burns, M'am," stated Robin in a way that no question could be asked, "And I too should like to thank you for..."
Suddenly Mr. McDoodle stormed into the kitchen. "So there you are, you pesky rogue!" he shouted at Robin. Turning to Raven he added, "I thought I told you to get out of here!"
"Sir, that's exactly what we, Robin and I, are going to do," retaliated Raven.
"Yes, that's so, Mr. McDoodle! I'm leaving and leaving now with Raven and as far as I'm concerned, Sir, you can go to hell!" bluntly stated a very confident Robin.
"Filthy little cocksucker! I'll have you arrested, I'll have..."
"You can't do a thing against me, Sir. There is no contract nor bondage document concerning me here. So now, you must give me my due wages and I'll not have you sent to court for slavery! Sir!" continued a very deliberate Robin.
McDoodle started coughing, gasping for air, red with anger, he stomped towards Robin. Mrs. Patty stepped up straight in front of him, blocking the way, with a butcher's cleaver in her raised hand.
"Hold on there, McDoodle! The lad's right! He's free. Do you hear me? He's free to go where and when he pleases and you can't do a goddamn thing about it! So YOU SHUT UP and if that doesn't suit you, then I guess I'll have leave this kitchen myself and you can do the damn cooking all by your stupid self, if you can!" threatened Mrs. Patty, shaking the cleaver in McDoodles face making him back up to the fire, "And if you don't shell out the lad's wages now, you stingy stooge, I'll shove that fat arse of yours into the flames and we'll all die laughing watching your balls burn off! Now give the lad a guinea, tell him 'Thank You' and leave us all be!"
Robin and Raven were huddled in the door as they watched the scene, wide eyed and dumbstruck. Mrs. Patty had grabbed McDoodle by the arm and was dragging him towards the boys.
"Now thank the lad for his gracious and loyal service and if you don't have a guinea on you, give him a pound and a shilling, and believe me, that's weak compensation for all the work he's put out for you."
The old man stuttered something, drooling from the corner of his mouth. Mrs Patty twisted his arm a little more. He yelped, groaned, and dug his free hand into his coat pocket where he always kept his money and cash. With spite and hate glowing in his reddened eyes, he held out a pound note.
"You've forgotten the shilling and the 'Thank You', McDoodle and if they don't come, then I warn you, they'll be nobody in this kitchen come noon!" hissed Mrs. Patty.
Robin already had the pound note in his hand and held out his other hand for the shilling. McDoodle complied spitting out a very muffled 'Thank You'. The shilling was grabbed and Robin, smiling, simply bowed his head and distinctly said, "You're welcome, Sir, and Good-bye."
"Now get out of my kitchen, McDoodle, and get to work! It's going to do you good!"
He skittered out like a dog with its tail between its legs. The boys came up to Mrs. Patty and both tried to hug her.
"My, my, lay off you scoundrels. I'm not made for mushy stuff!" grumbled a smiling Mrs. Patty, combing her hair up, putting it back in place, "That old bastard got me so riled up that I'll make milk curdle for a week, even if I look at it!"
"Why did you do that for me, M'am?" whispered Robin.
A bit shocked, she uttered, "Why? Well, I had too, my nasty nightingale. I don't know why, but I got to taking on to you two rascals these past weeks. If I could of had children, I'd make a boy with a Gypsy lord and another with a Gadjo prince and they'd be you two, my marvellous little fools. But I didn't fuck around with those kind of men -- so, now, I guess I've adopted you! Now get on your way, You've got a big life out there waiting for you, so scoot out of my kitchen. That's an order..." and in a hushed voice, she sighed, 'I love you!"
Robin was weeping, hardly able to speak, he went over to the table and picked up the little fancy basket Raven had given her. He gently put the pound note in it and placed it back on the table.
Mrs. Patty started weeping too as she saw what Robin was doing.
"You foolish ruffian!" she muttered, opening her arms to the boys as they rushed up to her. They kissed her rosy red, apple cheeks each on their own side.
"Oh Goddamn you two! You've made me mushy! Now for the last time, LEAVE ME ALONE, and fare ye well, my loves, Fare Ye Well! Come back to see me if you can, and if you don't, well... Well, nothing!"
They bridled the horse and left. Several miles later, stopping in a glade by the river, Raven went to fish as Robin gathered wood for the fire outside to cook on. They dined in the vardo and for dessert, they cut the honey cake Mrs. Patty had given them and opened the bottle of spirits that came along with it. The fire hummed in the stove and the lamp shed its gentle light upon their smiles as they sat in peaceful silence, a bit stunned, happy and free. Robin leaned over on Raven's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "So the sweetness I feel is... is freedom, I guess."
"That it is, my fair friend! Freedom, and beauty and love." he whispered under his breath. "Oh good God! You make me so happy Robin!" he exclaimed, reaching out, caressing Robin on the cheek.
"I want you in me now, Raven, and my happiness will be complete."
Enough was said. They shed their garments and crawled up into the bed. Raven nursed Robin's cock and then ate his arse until he was moaning, writhing, insane with lust. Raven prepared himself mostly with Robin's spit mixed with his and the natural slick flowing from both their cocks. Then Raven stretched out on his back as Robin straddled him, lowering himself gently on his lover's sex, filling himself and and being fulfilled by him. They began their familiar dance, swaying and thrusting as the semen boiled up and overflowed from both as they trembled in a maddening orgasm. Robin then collapsed breathless, covering Raven with kisses, his eyelids, his lips, his heart.
"It's not the same now, is it? Well, yes, it's the same and not the same."
"It's because we're free at last, free to be me, free to be you, free to be us. Only love as deep as ours can set one free. Our kind of love must be made not only with the cock but mostly with the soul. It's not what we do that counts. It's what happens in us while it's happening. Love creates freedom and freedom creates joy! Come in me now, Robin. I need you too."
"I'll always be here. Relax and let me serve you..."
Raven howled like a wolf as Robin screamed in the night, emptying himself into his beloved.
"Are you sleepy?" asked Raven.
"No, and you?"
"Never the same and yet, never really different."
"What?"
"The making of love."
"Come closer. I'm not yet full."
"Me neither."
Robin learned the art of basket weaving and drawing. Raven learned how to sing and play the concertina. On the market places where they displayed their merchandise, they played and sang in front of the pile of baskets they were selling, drawing customers and money galore! They fared quite well, quite well indeed! And it was never the same and yet never really different, the making of a life together.
A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request marin.giustinian@laposte.net.