SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Chapter 11
"Footpads"
Andrew felt weary after the fight, and went to bed with hardly a glance at Renaud, who wisely let him do as he would. He slept soundly and the next thing he knew was when Renaud shook him gently at first light.
"Awaken, my brave guard." he said to Andrew. "We must travel now to Heslov, for Grandmother has determined that we should be there before dark."
Andrew arose and stretched. His body was still quite sore, and the prospect of a long days' ride (for that was all that would get them to Heslov in one day's time; Heslov was nearly a hundred miles away, and they would be further slowed by the carriages and wagons that would surely accompany such a large group) filled him with nothing but loathing. It would actually be pleasant to get to Heslov, which at least promised a long period of rest.
A quick breakfast of yesterday's bread, even for Dame Ratisbon (Andrew ate his while standing behind Renaud, at his behest) and then down to the carriage.
Andrew had his horse, and it was Trevish who was holding it for him. Adomeh was also there. "Are you coming with us?" Andrew asked hopefully.
"Nay, we journey back to the Count's house." Trevish said, turning his head as he winked an eye. Andrew knew then that they had no intention of entering the Count's employ, but would likely take off at the first chance. He was their pipeline and main thrust of effort now, they would be his couriers to loyalist forces. It was up to him to give them something worth the journey. Andrew looked over at Renaud, at the happy-hopeful face he had, and steeled his resolve. War required some sacrifice. This young nobleman's dreams of land was a small price to pay to restore the King to the throne.
Dame Ratisbon's carriage was enclosed, of course, and she and her two maidservants rode inside. The nobility of Carlovain used the ancient rules of courtly behavior; women were kept isolated and protected. The Count's main house undoubtedly had an entire courtyard set aside for them, inside whose walls Dame Ratisbon had lived most of her life. That left room for one man in the carriage, and Ernaud took it with a smirk on his face, as if he were getting away with a great liberty. That carriage, shuttered, held no attraction to Andrew.
This isolation of one's womenfolk struck Andrew as a silly thing to be doing, when a women given her head could be a positive strength in a marriage, rather than a total liability. But a lot of things the nobility did were foolish, those preposterous shoes Renaud and Ernaud wore, for instance. Fortunately Ernaud had worn proper riding gear this day....
"To your saddles and order!" came the call and Andrew hastily got astride his steed. His buttocks were immediately sore, as they remembered the hard riding he had done these last days, but it was just something he'd have to live with. At least the pain was somewhat lessened by the rest he had received yesterday.
But what was his "order?" Andrew looked at Trevish his query and Trevish took the horse's reins and led Andrew over to Renaud's side just in front of the carriage.
Their pace was slow, the day was yet not uncomfortably warm, and a gentle breeze aided that. When some of the young nobles started up a happy song, Andrew felt comfortable about singing along with them, even. Then when they tired of that, there were stories among these twenty noblemen, most of which Andrew hadn't heard before. He found the journey quite pleasant, and starkly in contrast to the hard riding he had done with Trevish and Adomeh, traveling through the lush forest with the leaves heavy and green with summer which had not yet sapped all the life from them. Their canopy was a welcome shelter from the sun which stole through only as shafts of yellow fire here and there.
But the noblemen's stories and songs paled and stopped as the day grew hotter. When they passed over the bridge of the River Tenemon, which would curve far south before turning back to form part of the natural barrier which had protected Carlovain from both Julius Caesar and Charlemagne, well over half the young nobles stopped for a swim, and they left them behind, to strip off their clothing and dive into the placid blue waters. Andrew envied them.
A few hours later, after a lunch consumed in the saddle (more simple hunks of bread, Andrew was beginning to wonder if servants ever got a proper meal!), they came to a small lake and Dame Ratisbon called a stop. She stepped out of the carriage and said peevishly, "You should ride further on. I'm told there's another river a short ways on; you can stop there and wait for us to catch up."
The other noblemen stopped to argue and Andrew didn't blame them, for now it was well into the early afternoon and the heat was horrid. Then he heard Renaud's voice in his ear. "Let's ride on."
He did, and they were alone now upon the road. Andrew could not even hear the voices behind them. "Why did we ride on?" he asked Renaud.
Renaud's eyes turned to him and an impish smile briefly caught fire upon his face.
"Oh." Andrew said and couldn't help but smile in his turn.
They came to a small stream, and after pausing and letting the horses take water there and refreshing their own lips and water-sacks, they rode on. Now the day was getting more and more unpleasant.
"We'll stop and rest at the river." Renaud said.
"Why didn't the rest of them ride on with us?" Andrew asked.
"The official reason would be that the ladies should be well-protected. The unofficial reason would be a chance to glimpse them in their bathing attire." Renaud explained. "While they will not trouble the maidservants, the chance to view them in their baths is one they won't want to miss."
Andrew had to grimace and Renaud laughed. "I can see you prefer a different sort of venison, my loyal guard."
Andrew smiled. "Why chase the forbidden meat, when legal game is close to hand and ready for the pot? Speaking of which, I am getting hungry."
"I have some provisions in my bag." Renaud patted one of them. "I wouldn't take it out with that crowd around, but we can form a little picnic."
"Does your grandmother really plan to make Heslov by nightfall?"
"So she claims." Renaud said. "But I misdoubt but we'll have to find a campsite for one night at least. That carriage is ponderously slow. Though she is wise to make haste, for this land will soon go to lawlessness in these times." Renaud cocked his head. "I believe we have found the river that my grandmother spoke of."
They had, indeed. A mere tributary of the Tenemon, this river cut across their path and no proper bridge awaited there; it had a foot-bridge and a broad, flat raft alongside it. To ferry the horses across would require retrieving the raft and coaxing them onto the raft and then over, or having the horses swim the small, rather shallow river.
"This side looks more enticing." Renaud said. "Let us ride upriver a short ways and find a place to await our comrades."
"You needn't bother waiting." came a rough voice. "We have already found you."
Andrew turned on his horse and gaped. Well over a dozen roughly dressed men with unshorn beards and cruel expressions came out to surround them.
"Well, we have caught a dandy and his footman." said the leader. He was the wildest of the group. His black hair--for they were all Neresterii--was large and unkempt, having been cut only haphazardly with a knife here and there. His beard was filthy with twigs and bits of leaves. They had undoubtedly been resting here, not expecting to find travelers in this heat of day, but having arose and springing to the bait when it arrived in the form of Renaud and Andrew. "Footman, I ken you are of my own blood and so I offer you the chance to leave in peace."
Andrew saw the danger and, knowing nothing of horsed combat, chose to dismount and face the men on foot. "Nay, only if you let us both part in peace." he said as he took hold of the shaft of his sword, but not drawing it even though the men he faced all had bared weapons. They held knives and staves, and only the leader had a sword, rusty and unkempt as he was, but a blade for all that. It was this leader that Andrew faced. "We have no quarrel with you and will offer apology for disturbing your resting place."
"You can apologize by turning over your money bags." the leader grinned. He was broad-chested and when he stepped forward, his shirt gaped and showed the strong, scar-striped chest. An escaped felon, then, for few went into prison without suffering lashes and the long multi-tailed whips used by the noble's prison guards were likely apt to snake around and lash the front of a man as well, leaving him scarred with stripes like a tiger that didn't quite meet in front.
"We have offered our pardon and you have refused it." Renaud said, also dismounting and standing by Andrew. They were betrayed by these men as they did so, for stepping away from their horses, some of the men, who had worked around behind them, caught the reins and led them away. Now they were unhorses, and surrounded.
Andrew would have faced the leader, but Renaud would not move. So Andrew was left to take Renaud's back and face the motley crew from that side. Back to back, they warded each other.
"I give you one final chance to take our peace and leave." Renaud barked out with a nervous tremor in his voice.
That tremor seemed to have been heard by the leader, for without a sound from him that Andrew caught, there was a sudden roar from many male throats, and the crowd pressed in upon them.
Andrew feared the one with a stave more than the three with a knife from his side. He stepped to one side so that this one would be foremost. This man wielded the stave inexpertly, though he was a strong, brave-seeming man, he had never faced a sword or he would not have kept his stave poised with both hands wide. Andrew feinted, the man moved to block and Andrew's swing back turned the stave, a weapon, into two shorter sticks.
"You can see the value of a well-oiled blade." he called to the others. "Your pig-stickers cannot avail you."
There were sounds of clashing blades and Andrew took the indecision of the others to cast a quick look around. Renaud was matching swords with the leader, and others were pressing in close. Andrew darted to Renaud's unguarded side and fended off the men, then returned to ward Renaud's back. Renaud had made a similar move, and that let the leader come in close. Renaud was now standing at Andrew's fore to one side, and Andrew gave a sudden whirling turn and cut at the leader intent upon Renaud, and the leader was forced to step back.
But that let the men with knives close in. Andrew found that he had little room to move, and the knives were quicker of movement in the hands of experts.
Two of these men were experts with the blades.
Andrew cut at one of them, a glancing blow which but nicked the man, but the others managed a slice at Andrew in turn. Pain lanced from Andrew's left arm, and he hacked savagely at the man, catching him on the shoulder and biting deep into him.
Another knife caught his right forearm now, and this one was harder. Andrew found his arm wanted to let loose of his sword, and it was only the discipline of his father's teachings that let him keep the blade. It was his turn to step back, where he nearly ran into one of Renaud's attackers.
A sharp stab into his left shoulderblade, a cut in the back! Andrew felt helpless here against these men. A sword was supposed to be a superior blade to these common knives, but here he was, being whittled away at a little at a time by these cuts.
Andrew whirled with his blade held high, and sheer luck caused this act to cut down another of the attackers. Renaud had done well enough, the leader had retired from the battle, clutching his sword arm, and the attackers were now more grim-faced and less confident.
But they were still outnumbered, and closely pressed.
Andrew had to ignore the men at his back, trust Renaud to defend it, while he dealt with the four men facing him now, all with blades. He didn't know where the rest of the attackers were, and couldn't stop to look, for he was fending off four stabbing arms, catching one man's hand with a slashing cut that rippled over the top of the man's hand.
"Come on!" their leader called out. "Bring them down. You've got them now, lads! Bring them down!"
A rage built up in Andrew and he fought now, despite his wounds, despite the throbbing pain in his sword arm that pulsed and which he vaguely saw was spreading his life's blood with every move, so that he showered his attackers with red splatters, droplets of his life. He was feeling, too, that the blade in his shoulder was still there, a sharp projectile imbedded in his bone, and he felt, too, blood trickling down his back.
His eyes were threatening to lose their focus and he stabbed and roared with his anger, and was met with equal growls from these villains, these thieves, who were his kin but not his equals!
And the big man with the stave had returned and, standing outside the line of flashing blades, he grinned a mean grin and aimed one end of the long pole at Andrew's midsection.
Andrew grunted and doubled up. His wind had been knocked from him with that blow which had landed just below his rib cage, and hard! He fell down onto all fours, his sword flew from his hand, and he looked at the ground below him. This is where I die, he realized, waiting for the blow from above that would end his life here, on the bank of this small river, far from his home and farther from his family.
And Renaud jumped over him, and slashed back the men facing Andrew. "Hah!" he snarled. "You vermin can't stand before me!"
He started to say more in this vein, but then a knife caught his arm and he grunted, stumbled over Andrew and Andrew heard him fall, willing himself to rise, which he did but his sword, his sword was now at his feet and he was helpless before this crowd, and they knew it as well as he and he knew that it shone in his very eyes. Defeated by this rabble, this motley crew of footpads, he, who had dreamed of honors at the King's hands, he who had been chosen as the King's own squire, he would die here this day, for the few coins he had on his person.
But the other young nobles had arrived. A stampeding sound of hooves and the crowd facing them dispersed in howls, pursued through the brushes by the mounted young men who did know how to fight on horseback, and so now Andrew realized dully that he was alive, and owed his very life, to these Frenchmen!
Andrew looked at Renaud, and said, "My Master, you are wounded. Let me tend to you." he focused on the red slash on Renaud's shoulder and another on his legs and he stepped forward and his feet failed him and he crashed to the ground and blackness closed in on him.
He awoke a short time later, in pain, when the knife in his back was yanked away.
"Whoa, steady!" one of the men called out. "We've got to staunch these wounds. That one on your sword arm is grievous. They have cut an artery there."
Andrew lay still while they bound his wounds with lengths of cloth, generously torn from their own tunics.
"You guarded your Master well." one of them said. "I would have surrendered at any of these three wounds you bear, I swear."
"He guarded me." Andrew said. "When I fell, it was he who fought them away."
"Ho, I but repaid a debt." Renaud said. "Your scaring away the knives on my left distracted that bladed knave and let me cut him. You did not see?"
"No." Andrew admitted.
"We owe each other our lives." Renaud said. "And I declare you are no longer my servant, but my remereh-na-kaserin. Whatever fortunes await for me shall be shared by you in full, I promise you." The "remereh-na-kaserin" meant literally "brother-by-the-sword" and was a Neresterii word. Much like "blood-brother", it was not a gift of gratitude for the saving of one's life, but more like an acknowledgment of fact, and thus could not be disclaimed or denied.
"I greet you, my brother." Andrew said, for this was the proper formula and he said it without heat or comprehension, and his world receded again to a pinpoint of light, which extinguished itself as a candle-wick does in the puddle of melted wax at its base.
It was nightfall when he awoke again, and this time it was to a wine jug being lifted to his lips. He drank, sputtered in surprise--he had expected only water--and then drank gratefully, for wine was known to restore the blood and invigorate the heart. The wine was left to his lips for as long as he cared to suckle at the small spout.
When he was done, he heard Dame Ratisbon's voice. "Well, Renaud, thanks to you we have made less than half of the trip this day."
"We wouldn't have made Heslov in one day, Grandmother." Renaud said.
"We would have had to ride after dark." agreed Dame Ratisbon. "But instead we stay while you tended this man. Couldn't you have let me leave a servant here to tend him?"
"It is my business how I treat the man you turned over to me for my servant." Renaud said firmly. "He saved my life and got his wounds in my service. I would not leave him behind as you would an old hunting dog gored by the stag at bay."
"The difference escapes me." Dame Ratisbon said drily. "You declared this Neresterii blade a member of your family, I am told. Given that your own food and drink comes from my larder, you are rash with your promises."
"I am grateful for the family's help." Renaud said. "And I will repay the family if I can but win favor at court, I promise you. But I will not turn my back upon him. The footpads gave him the chance to escape and he stayed by my side. I doubt if the coin you offered him bought that. Nay, it was loyalty to me, and I shall repay it in kind."
"That is your affair." Dame Ratisbon said, but she seemed kinder, more tolerant in tone somehow. "I shall give you one of the wagons for you to bring in. You can throw him in as well, if you can strap him on top in some manner."
"I can ride." Andrew protested, sitting upright and his world swirled around him. He saw not the river and trees, but canvas, he was inside some sort of tent.
"Lay back and rest, you young fool." Dame Ratisbon said and turned to the servants. "Pack as much as you can of the supplies onto the other wagons. He'll need to ride in the bed. Come, let us decide what we can abandon. Perhaps we can pack some of it with us into the carriage for the rest of the ride."
They took off and Andrew looked over at Renaud.
"Can you eat something now?" Renaud said. "My friends brought down a buck and have saved the heart meat for you. It is said to replenish the blood."
"I shall try." Andrew said. "I would sit upright."
Renaud permitted him this, but only after bringing over a sack for him to rest against.
"Quite a fight we had this day." Andrew said.
"I was never gladder to have you at my back and my side." Renaud said. "Such loyalty I have not seen before among my family's servants. When they offered you the chance to fly, I expected you to take it."
"That would have left you alone." Andrew said. "I knew we only needed to hold them off until the others arrived. They would not have attacked us had we stayed with the group.
"Yes, and it was my idea to ride ahead." Renaud said. "Foolish of me, I should have simply waited until we got to the Castle."
"You did not force me to ride with you." Andrew said. "I came with you willingly."
"And we were both fools." Renaud said. "But you are my kind of fool. Rest now while I check upon the meal."
Andrew watched as his master, a man of noble blood, fussed over the fire and brought him back a plate of the meat. He had even cut it into portions for him! "You are too kind to me." he said.
Renaud picked up one of the pieces of meat and blew on it. "Hush, now, my mignon. Here." And he pushed the food into Andrew's mouth.
Andrew ate like that, the food hot and warm, the taste of meat freshly killed. It did seem to reinvigorate him, or perhaps it was the wine now coursing warmly through his veins. The chirping of crickets were now louder by far than the roaring in his ears. He looked Renaud rather blearily, but it was the wine he was unaccustomed to in such quantities, rather than the earlier giddiness of his wounds.
"You should eat some." he said after the plate was over half-consumed. "You too bled this day."
"Pah. A couple of flesh wounds. I doubt either will leave a real scar." Renaud said. "I have lost more blood through fencing bouts with my brothers and cousins. You were the one spilling your blood plentifully as your blade played among the villains. Can you drink more wine?"
"Nay, I dare not." Andrew admitted. "But some water now would be welcomed."
"I'll fetch it for you." Renaud went down to the river and scooped up a goblet. Andrew saw no sign of the others.
When Renaud returned he felt well enough to take the goblet in his own hands, which were quite steady, and said, "Where are your grandmother and the servants?" He quaffed the water, the blessedly delicious water that sprang from Carlovain's heart.
"They are down the river a short way." Renaud explained. "There is a bank there of sand which will make for a fine campsite. I inisted that we keep you here. I didn't want you to be moved unnecessarily. There is enough room here for our bed."
Andrew finished the water and said, "I am ready enough to sleep."
"Then lay back again, my mignon, while I shall dampen down the fire."
Andrew did, and grunted a little when his shoulder touched the ground. The knife that had lived there a short time had cut deeply but not widely. His left arm didn't want to obey him without a pulling pain from there, but the pain itself declared that he would heal. He made himself comfortable and waited for Renaud.
Renaud came in with a smoking tree-branch, and, securing the tent flaps, "smoked" the inside of the tent. It smelled up the place with the odor of burning wood, but caused the many mosquitos that had entered the tent, whose myriad cousins hummed like a tiny army outside, to fall dead upon contact with the smoke. Done with this slaughter of insects, Renaud lay down next to him and, both of them still fully clothed below the waist, pulled the blanket over himself as well.
The tent served another purpose, it concealed them from prying eyes. The wine still pounded in Andrew's veins, and when Renaud's lips sought out his, he returned it in kind. His arms hurt to go around Renaud's form, but he made them perform the task nevertheless.
"Ah, my mignon." Renaud said, using the nickname he had given Andrew now as a loving caress of words. "Never risk your life like that again. I could not bear it. We shall hire another to guard us both at the palace. You had two comrades with you, did you not?"
"Yes." Andrew said.
"Then we'll send for them." Renaud said with decision. "They can stand guard outside our chambers day and night, so we can make love unceasingly."
"But you must spend hours at the side of...of the Lord Protector." Andrew said clumsily. "You must keep your ears open to anything that will let you gain his favor."
"We shall both do that, then." Renaud said. "But only some of the time. The rest of the time, we shall steal away and be together, as one, my kaserin."
"That sounds wonderful to me, my...." Andrew trailed off, he could not bring himself to use the word. Even though Renaud had saved his life, he could not say the words, even though it was customary among the Neresterii to never use any other word after the "brother-of-the-sword" kinship had been declared. He could only avoid any term for Renaud, and hope the lack thus never showed unduly.
A happy alternative came to him. He need not declare Renaud an enemy outright. Renaud was only desirous of lands, not truly a traitor to the King even though he went to join Montaigne's court. He would accept land grants from the King as quickly. This made him not an enemy, but a neutral. Andrew need only work things so that he defeated Montaigne without endangering Renaud, or even to bring Renaud to his side at the appropriate moment. Could a "kaserin" work against his own? Certainly not! And Renaud...he was half Neresterii. Enough to let that half of him shine through.
"I would hold you with desire, my kaserin, but my body proclaims the need of rest this night." Andrew said.
"Then let it rest." Renaud said and Andrew sagged against him. "I shall do the work entire, my kaserin."
Andrew felt Renaud's hand at his groin and sighed, his cock surged with desire at the first fumbling touches, and Renaud fought his body free of the constraining tights.
"Ah, you have blood enough left in you for this at least." Renaud said teasingly.
"You may have my last drop of blood." Andrew said. "It is yours upon your request."
"It's not your blood I am seeking." Renaud reminded him. And his head darted below the covers.
Renaud never ceased to surprise him. He expected this sort of hot-blooded reaction from another Neresterii, but this half-French lover was truly talented. Andrew felt the darting tongue lapping at his cock's underside like an overly-friendly dog laps your hand, the moist warmth enticing his blood to his cockhead, causing his cock to tingle all over in response. He managed to make his right arm find and tousle Renaud's head, but his fingers were stiff and unresponsive and he wielded his fingers like a rake. A part of him wondered if he had lost his skill with the sword as a result of this afternoon's bout. Well, there were other ways to serve his King, such as having a quick ear about Montaigne's court and Renaud would keep no secrets of such from him....
Renaud reached up and his lips surrounded his cockhead and buried him there in hot wetness. Andrew groaned and Renaud lifted his lips quickly and bobbed a few quick strokes upon Andrew's manhood.
"Ah, yes." Andrew groaned. "Ah, yes."
Renaud continued, until Andrew's blood seethed once again in his brain, until the covers over them were a whipping frenzy of cloth, until Andrew's balls surged up against his shaft.
Renaud then pulled off the coverings and Andrew looked downwards with glazed, half-comprehending eyes. Renaud had managed to strip while nursing Andrew's cock. He continually was amazed with Renaud's abilities. Who had taught him all this? Andrew knew that had he tried the same he would have failed utterly at both, not succeeded so smoothly.
"Dare I ride you again this night?" Renaud asked him.
"I am not wounded below my waist." Andrew agreed. "My injuries are but to my arms and my upper back. If you will avoid these areas, you may take your liberties."
"I am grateful." Renaud said and straddled him once again. The tent was low; Renaud's head just had room at its very apex.
Renaud's ass clutched at Andrew's cock like an old friend. "Ah, my stallion, you are broken now to the rein." he said in remembrance of the former afternoon's pleasure.
"I am not broken." Andrew said. "To be broken is to submit, and I give myself to you willingly, with eager pleasure, not humbled compliance."
"I stand corrected." Renaud said and he pressed down until Andrew's cock was thoroughly buried in him, writhed atop Andrew so that a hundred small movements manipulated his cock adroitly.
Andrew could hardly think for the pleasure of the hot dampness clutching his organ, but he managed, "I would return this favor as soon as my shoulder heals and will permit me to turn over."
"Would you not be more comfortable upon your back?" Renaud asked, paused in his wriggling movement.
"Perhaps," Andrew conceded, "but I would then have to rest weight upon my arms, and they will not bear me at this time, I think."
"Then I shall enjoy this ride once again." Renaud began now to lift his body up and drop it down upon Andrew. This jolting brought a small amount of pain to Andrew's shoulder, but it was more than overborne by the joy singing out from his cock, and he groaned, wanting so much to touch this wonderful rider atop him, but his arms would not obey him! He was helpless here, pinioned beneath his lover's body, left dependent upon him and subjected to his pleasures. Renaud was right, he was broken in!
Renaud rode him with a lithe movement that indeed reminded him of the way Renaud sat a horse, and he glided atop Andrew's body with a rocking that brought to mind the way his thin body moved with the horse, an ease that Andrew envied and enjoyed at once.
His body surged with his passion, hot ripples of joy swelled across him, seeming not to run upwards this time, but downwards from his head to his feet, the way Renaud's body was moving him, as he rose up and forward, then sat down and slid backwards, sending Andrew's cock plunging back into him.
Andrew's toes curled up in response to the desire that was reaching them, and they wriggled of their own accord, as if, had they the length and the dexterity, they would have lief replaced his fingers and reached up and stroked Renaud's back, but they were imprisoned at the damnably unbendable legs, and so they twitched there, hungrily unsatiated in their need for reciprocation.
From those toes, those writhing bulbs, Andrew felt his orgasm rise, the way it crawled up his legs, contrarily pushing against and feeding upon the waves of pleasure going downwards, spilling upwards until they met and collided with his cock from two directions, and Andrew groaned as his cock boiled with the foaming waves sidling up it from inside, and squeezed out of him by this foaming crest, he spewed his wads into Renaud's bowels.
Renaud's eyes were fixed upon Andrew's own, and as Andrew reached his climax, as Renaud saw his face soften with pleasure, he suddenly squinched his own eyes tight and clenched his teeth, and Andrew felt Renaud's cock spray his chest with powerful spurts of liquid joy that reached up to his very neck, from the sheer power of Renaud's ejaculation, so that he was left with three long lines of hot jism-lines upon his body, while Renaud groaned and gasped back control of his body.
Done, Renaud lowered himself onto Andrew so-cautiously, taking all his weight on his elbows, so that none of it added to the pressure on Andrew's back-wound, and Renaud leaned down thus and tasted the sweaty nectar of Andrew's lips and gave back ambrosia of his own in beaded drops into Andrew's open and welcoming mouth.
"Now, my kaserin-mignon," Renaud said. "We shall both sleep until we feel like waking up, for I have left orders for us not to be disturbed."
"We should be at Heslov by tomorrow." Andrew said.
"We shall take a week if we must." Renaud said. "Four of my friends have agreed to stay with us and safeguard us from further dangers on the path. You may rest, for your blade will not be needed longer on this journey."
"I pray only that my arm will heal entire." Andrew said. "If I lose the blade so quickly, I shall be shamed."
"You will never be shamed." Renaud said. "For as long as I have a home, so do you."
But Renaud had no home to speak of, Andrew realized. "And my father's inn shall be your residence if the need comes." he temporized.
"I am grateful." Renaud said. "But let us plot instead on how we may squeeze many prime lands from Montaigne's hands. I have an eye on a place called Cederel, which is not large in size, but rich and abundant in its produce. It has five hundred serfs attached to it and is surrounded by my father's lands, a pocket of the King's territory there and a constant thorn in his side. If Montaigne will give it to me, we may retire there at once."
"Maybe." Andrew said as Renaud's cheek rested happily against his. "Maybe."
If Renaud had his eyes upon some of the King's own personal lands, then maybe he wouldn't be a neutral after all!
And when the King regained his throne, he would remember the Count's men among Montaigne's court.
This wasn't going to be so easy after all!