KNIGHT OF CARLOVAIN, CHAPTER 4
"Brothers Edmegen, Clovis And Eserel"
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
The monastery of Merlemagne was, of course, large and busy. It was the central hospital of Carlovain; those who were seriously ill were usually brought here if at all possible, and the four other Merlemagnist monasteries sent their more baffling cases here.
He first encountered the former patients of the monks, outside working in the fields to pay off their debts to the brothers. They tended large fields which were bringing forth a wide variety of produce, including one field which seemed to be the various herbs and plants the monks used in their healing arts, figwort, monkshood, poppy and hemp were a few of the varieties that Andrew recognized. The monks themselves did not shirk the work, but were toiling alongside their patients, marked only by their simple brown hooded robes.
Closer to the monastery he found the campsites of the families of the patients, a large place filled with people, women and children mostly, and here, too, the monks moved about the populace, directing and ordering things, and leading by example of industry.
"Tend your horse for you, sir?" a young boy called out as Andrew approached the gates.
Suspiciously, Andrew looked down the face; the boy was young, perhaps ten years old, and in rather ragamuffin clothing. "Have they no stables for a visitor such as myself?" he settled for saying. This was not vainglory, he rode a noble's white stallion.
"Of course, sir, and I would take your horse there and water and feed it and give it a good rub-down. Only five coppers, sir." Well, perhaps he only wanted the few coppers at that, Andrew mused. He saw a brother come up. "Brother of the Thorns," he addressed the monk. "I am Sir Andrew of Heslov, and I have come to see Brother Edmegen. Can you see to my horse?"
"Let me care for it, my Lord." the boy pleaded. "A knight such as yourself could use a squire on the road."
He did so in the monk's presence and Andrew's querying look at the monk received a smile and nod. "Very well, lad." he said, dismounting. "Tend it well, and the five coppers are yours."
"Yes, sir, oh, yes, sir!" the boy took the reins happily. "Come on, boy, come on." he tugged the horse vigorously, the horse not wanting to follow this urchin, but it did at last.
"You're doing a kind thing." the monk said. "His father has been inside for several months. We see his family is fed as well as we can, but...." He shrugged. "Well, please, Sir Andrew, Brother Edmegen is expecting you."
A monastery has its public area where it interacts with the rest of the world, and its private area set aside for its monks, for their personal use, for prayer and contemplation, where none but its own can tread. Andrew was startled to find himself led into this private area; it wasn't forbidden but was highly unusual!
He was led to a cell which received southern light, and inside this sparsely furnished room lit with the golden glow from the window receiving the warm autumn sun, there was a goodly-sized bed lain with fresh, clean linen, and a couple of young brothers in attendance, and upon the bed lay Brother Edmegen. With a first pang, Andrew though of his father lying in the bed back at Heslov Hall.
But Brother Edmegen seemed to treat his bedridden condition as a minor inconvenience, upon his lap rested an angular contraption that let him work as if he were perched upon the stools of the monks' copying room, he was wielding his lump of graphite bound about with a string to prevent the black to get upon his hand as he worked. A draft then, for all his broad strokes. He was white-haired, with a lined face, his clothing was white which meant that he was ill, but his manner showed none of this.
"Ah, a visitor!" He said as he looked up.
"Yes, Brother of the Thorns, I...." Andrew began.
"Wonderful! Come, take a look at this!" the brother gestured him over.
Puzzled, Andrew went and looked.
"How's this for a place for the people to worship the Lord?" Brother Edmegen demanded.
Andrew studied the drawing. "A cathedral?" he asked.
"See?" Brother Edmegen demanded of his attendants. "This one recognized it as a cathedral right away. A barn, indeed!" he humphed.
"It is not the usual design for a cathedral." Andrew said. He had to agree with these hapless attendants, the place resembled a barn with spires around it. Only the arch-shaped windows all along the outside had told him what it was intended to be. This place was...round!
"And why should we build the house of worship like that cursed Cathedral of Heslov?" Andrew demanded. "You ever been inside it?"
"Yes, sir." Andrew began again to identify himself but was again cut off.
"The peasants at the back of the room have no way of knowing what is happening at the altar. When the Church of Carlovain split from the Church at Rome, we declared that we would be a church of the people, didn't we?"
"Yes, but...."
"So how can we be a church of the people inside that monstrosity? It's...it's built like a pencil inside." the brother waved his long, narrow stick of graphite at Andrew. "Is it not?"
"Yes, brother, but...."
"So this cathedral I'm designing will take care of that. You enter down here...." the bishop said. "Here you have a place for the people to hang up their coats or douse themselves with holy water from the cisterns there...some people like to practically bathe in it, that's no matter to me... but when they are ready to attend the Lord, they go up these stairs here!"
The brother switched with a rapid rustle to a new paper lying underneath the one he had been dealing with. Andrew saw.... "You want the floor of the cathedral to be built at an angle?"
"Certainly. Lift the back rows up. Let them see what's going on! Let them be part of the worship. You, when you were in the cathedral, where did you stand? In the back, right? Couldn't see a thing going on at the altar. So what did they give you to look at?"
Andrew hadn't stood at the back of the Cathedral, since his family had a balcony near the front, but he knew the answer to that.... "There are statues of the saints there for mediation." he said.
"Saints!" the brother nearly spat out the word.
"Brother Edmegen!" one of the young monks said, horrified.
"The saints are wonderful but they weren't meant to be substitutes for the Lord. When the host is glorified at the altar, and Christ becomes flesh, that's where they should be looking, not at some old carved hunk of stone! My cathedral will let them do that.
Andrew saw another of the drawings and pulled it out unbidden, intrigued. "The worship hall would be laid out like a...a cockleshell!" he exclaimed.
"That was my inspiration. With the altar at the joining of the shell, and the raised floor, everyone in the room could see the blessed sacrament as it was elevated. Wouldn't that be marvelous?" he said.
"Why...yes, it would be." Andrew said. He knew how he'd felt, standing in the ducal box and able to see the grand ceremony up close and clearly.
"You, young man, are a man of vision approaching genius." Brother Edmegen exclaimed. "But now, tell me, who are you?"
"I am Sir Andrew of Heslov." Andrew said.
Brother Edmegen became solemn. To his attendants, he said simply, "Leave us. I would speak with him in private."
As the monks departed, he scolded Andrew almost petulantly. "You should have told me who you were."
"I tried." Andrew pointed out.
"Not hard enough, you didn't." Brother Edmegen chastised him. "Leaving me to ramble on. Nobody respects this dream of mine, to have a cathedral truly built for the people to worship, instead of just a favored few of the gentry. How can people have faith if we deny them the holy vision?"
"You summoned me, Brother of the Thorns." Andrew reminded him.
"Oh, yes." Brother Edmegen straightened up. "First, be certain that none are lurking about outside, either the window or the door.
Andrew obeyed. "We are alone."
"Now close the door and shutter the window." The brother lit a candle while Andrew complied. "Now come closer."
As Andrew bent close, Brother Edmegen whispered, "Did you know the Archbishop has been exchanging a long correspondence with the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick III?"
"I know the Archbishop wants the Church of Carlovain to rejoin the Church at Rome." Andrew said. "Perhaps that would be best for the people."
"Perhaps." the brother agreed. "If that was what the correspondence was about."
"I don't understand."
"The Archbishop is seeking the Emperor's aid in having forces raised against Carlovain. The Holy Roman Empire may soon be marching against us."
"But the Grand Duke of Burgundy wouldn't permit that." Andrew said. Though the bitter foe of Carlovain, the Grand Duke would fight anyone besides himself who attempted to annex Carlovain; he considered it a part of his own duchy in rebellion. His League of Public Weal had recently permitted him to annex a large portion of France despite the efforts of the French king, Louis XI, making Carlovain and its King very nervous, the very reason he was now busily increasing the strength of his armies and adding ships to his navy.
"Grand Duke Charles is occupied with fighting the Swiss, and has been attempting to ally his duchy with the Holy Roman Empire by arranging to marry his daughter to the son of Emperor Frederick III." Brother Edmegen pointed out. "England invaded France this last summer, although I hear that King Louis XI has paid them a huge price to leave his shaken country alone. Who is left to oppose the Emperor's forces, for all that he has been an incompetent in the field?"
"Oh...yes, of course." Andrew had kept up on politics around his country, of course, it was a part of his duty as a nobleman, but so long as they weren't intent on invading Carlovain, he'd felt only a passing interest in the troubles of other countries. But it seemed as if they had gotten around to noticing his little country at last.
"The Emperor has promised in exchange for his help in restoring the Duchy of Heslov to his family. And there are still nobles enough unhappy at being unseated five years ago to try once more to raise swords against our sovereign."
Andrew shook his head; was there never to be an end to battle. "Would that the French had never invaded our land." he lamented. "We have been troubled ever since."
"We have intercepted the most recent letter, the one which laid out the entire plan." Brother Edmegen said. "The courier chosen by the Archbishop overheard words that made him understand the mischief planned, and not knowing what else to do with religious correspondence, brought it to us."
"And so you sent for me." Andrew said.
"Only you can keep these letters safe until they can be given to the King's own hands. We had to cut the seal to examine its contents, but it has been left otherwise intact; he will be able to see it is the Archbishop's own."
Andrew thought it through. "Then I must leave for Fediresta." he said.
Brother Edmegen smiled. "I knew we could trust you on this. We shall arrange for companions on your travel to Fediresta, the lands are quite unsafe these past years."
"I know." Andrew said feelingly.
"Now where did those attendants get off to?" Brother Edmegen said petulantly. He reached, found a bell on his side-table, rang it loudly. "Brother Clovis, come in here at once!"
A young man entered, wearing the robe of a novitiate. "Yes, Brother Edmegen?"
"Show our guest to one of the brother's cells and look after his needs." he said. "He must not be forced to mingle with the rest of our guests."
Andrew followed the young acolyte and was shown to a small room, bearing only a hard bed within, but he had slept for many years upon a bed not much better, he could manage.
The acolyte brought him a basin of water so that he could wash the dust of the road from his body. Andrew was glad of that, he gladly dipped the rag into the water and began to run it over his face.
He doffed his shirt and was working the rag over his shoulders when he noticed the young acolyte was still there.
"Would...would you like anything else, Sir Andrew?" the acolyte stammered as he found himself being watched instead of watching.
"Nothing, thank you." Andrew said. But the acolyte didn't leave.
"Sir Andrew?" he said after a time.
"Yes?" Andrew made broad strokes on his chest with the cloth, and noticed how the acolyte's eyes followed the cloth around and around, hungrily. He smiled.
"Is it true that your family used to be...commoners?"
Andrew smiled more broadly. He saw no reason to dissemble. "Yes, during the rebellion of the nobles a few years ago, we served the King and were rewarded with noble titles."
"I didn't think that was allowed, sir." the acolyte blushed when he realized his gaffe. "I mean...I thought you couldn't be a duke unless you were already of noble blood."
"Yes, that is true in the other countries of Europe, and the reason why there is so little respect for our own country's titles. You must remember that our King's ancestors five generations back were not so noble themselves, and all of our nobles were merely the leaders of the army of the Grand Duchy of Burgundy until they seized power and defied the Grand Duke. Before that, they were mostly younger sons who had no titles. The first King Phillippe gave them their titles, so they couldn't protest our King giving my family the same, no matter how much it may have galled them." The actual truth was that Andrew and his family had still never quite fit in with the rest of the nobility to this day, but there was no reason to burden this young man with that information.
"Oh." the acolyte said.
"What of your own family?" Andrew asked. "Are they of noble blood?"
The young man stiffened. "It is not considered important." Then he immediately answered the question just the same. "My father was a bailiff of the Duke of Bouillon, and I was his third son."
"Ahh!" Andrew said and needed no further explanation.
Younger sons were a problem for any family in the feudal system, which only recognized the right to inherit of the eldest son; younger sons were often left within the family and unmarried, or given their leave to find their own way in life...becoming usually vagabonds or footpads...or if a bit of money could be found to grease their passage, they were gotten rid of by sending them into the holy orders . Thus were many given the religious cowl who had no love of the discipline and indeed could behave most scandalously. If Andrew had had a younger brother, he might well have been placed here the same way this acolyte was, whether he would or no.
"My elder brother has become the seneschal of the new Lord Bouillon." the young novitiate said resentfully. "My second brother became the bailiff. As for me...nothing but prayers and washing out people's sores and lesions."
"You do not like this life?"
"It is unbearable!" the youth said with venom. "Prayers are no substitute for...."
"For what?" Andrew asked.
"For this!" and the young acolyte seized Andrew in his arms, pressed his lips hastily against Andrew's own. The kiss was ardent, rushed, and ill-placed, it left spittle on Andrew's upper lip.
When the acolyte released him, suddenly bashful, Andrew said, "Do the brothers know you feel like this?"
The man lowered his head and Andrew took the opportunity to quickly wipe his face dry. "May I stay this night with you?" he asked. "I am to serve you. None need find out."
Andrew thought about it. What was the young man's name? Clovis. "Clovis," he started. The young man raised his head. "I would be honored if you would stay with me."
Again this rush of the hot young body towards him, and this time Andrew was at least partly ready for it. He grasped this young man and was borne backwards onto the bed by the rushing force of this embrace. He fell with a grunted "oof!" and then laughed a mirth he did not feel, to set the lad at ease in his ardor.
But the youth needed no such encouragement, he was kissing Andrew, hard! Now it was Andrew's cheek that bore the almost bruising press of lips, the inexpert arms that were determined to wrap his head within their coils like a pair of constrictor snakes, Andrew kissed the tender ear, all he could reach with his mouth, and ran his hands over the heavy woolen robe.
Clovis' breaths were a rasping roar in his ear, and Clovis was now working on his neck and shoulder, trying to inflame Andrew with his own fire, and indeed Andrew felt his own lust rise within him, less this young man's attentions as the sheer unabashed desire that lay behind it all. It was rather like suffering the rough paws and soaking wet tongue of a large dog intent upon lavishing his affection upon you in eager greeting, in this same way was Clovis' simple raging hormones inciting Andrew's own.
He was given no chance to show Clovis his own skills at lovemaking, Clovis was like a maniac upon his body, astraddle him now, the wide robe pressing against Andrew's stomach as Clovis' knees kept it tightly pinned against him, like a bedsheet tucked too tightly, it was almost painful it wrapped him so firmly.
But Clovis was now clutching in that avid mouth Andrew's left breast, he was sucking on it as if he could siphon out a stream of mother's milk from it, Andrew groaned as his nipple was pulled by the vacuum into Clovis' mouth, the tender flesh feeling pinched, plucked outwards by the sheer force of suction.
Andrew gasped out, "Ah, ah, gently, more gently, my young love. You would pull me into pieces with your furious attacks upon me."
Clovis left his breast, though the heavily focused kisses upon Andrew's body continued at their frenetic pace, Andrew felt his skin being nearly ripped out in oval sections as that mouth caught and clutched and wrenched him before passing on; it was like he was trying to pull pieces from Andrew's body into his own.
But if Andrew's skin rejected these lascivious advances from Clovis, his cock was well content to be fished from his pants, brought free into the cool air of the cell, and then, with only a brief taste of the sunlight coming through the grilled window, it was thrust into the moist maw of Clovis' mouth; Andrew felt that powerful suction cram his prick into Clovis' throat, the tender skin of the back of the mouth giving way with heedless abandon, Andrew's dong wasn't just being serviced here, it was being bodily swallowed by Clovis' eager, debauched throat muscles, he could feel the heavy pulsing motions as Clovis tried to gulp him down, and only the base of his shaft prevented that from happening, Clovis could get him no deeper, though he continued to try, Andrew's lower belly having Clovis' nose jammed against it.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Andrew grunted as Clovis gave up at last, and surrendered a portion of his organ only to send it thrilling down his warm interior once again.
"Pray, turn around so that I may share in this." Andrew begged. Again, no heed was paid to this, Clovis continued this one-sided assault upon Andrew's manhood, sending his tumescent prong deeply into himself, and releasing only enough to let him resume the attack once again.
"Ah, ah, ah, AHHH! Enough!" Andrew groaned and grabbed Clovis' head and yanked him upwards. Andrew raised that face to meet his and looked into eyes glazed over with desire.
"I could help you enjoy this more if you were less...insistent." Andrew pointed out.
"I'm sorry." Clovis said and he crawled about, got his legs underneath himself.
Andrew let go of Clovis' head, expecting Clovis to break off this insane drive upon his body, but Clovis merely gathered his robes up to his waist, shuffled forward and Andrew felt his saliva-moistened dick brush Clovis' buttocks.
"Ah, gently, lad, if you have no experience in this...." Andrew began.
But Clovis' buttocks had found his cockhead and they waffled to bring it to the small opening at the bottom of the cleavage there, Andrew felt his glans press against the tight sphincter muscles and then....
Then Clovis began to shove Andrew's cock inside of himself! The young face was writhing in pain, but he didn't let up in the least. Andrew felt his balls boiling with the urgency this frantic young man was imparting to him, his own cock seemed to take the spur of this rampant lust into itself, he was rapidly climbing the height of his passion and finding it harder and harder to stay the gentle intiating lover.
"Clovis, I beg of you, cease this and let me give you a gentler pleasure." Andrew said.
But Clovis was not to be talked away from his course, he continued to press Andrew's dong deeper and deeper into himself, Andrew felt this tight anus clutching him like his cock was being tied up with soft ropes, tighter in some places than others, and here and there the hot wetness of blood touched Andrew's pud and told him of the high price Clovis was paying for his willy-nilly self-initiation.
Andrew could bear it no longer, he reached up and held Clovis still while he rolled the two of them over; they nearly fell off the narrow bed in his doing so, but Andrew ended up atop Clovis and though he had to rest both feet on the floor, he managed now by brute force to make Clovis hold still.
"Let your body adjust to me, my eager one." He said chidingly. "You are hurting yourself for no reason here."
"I thought there had to be pain the first time." Clovis said.
"There is some." Andrew admitted. "But a gentle and experienced lover can ease this time for you. Please, let me treat you gently."
"Yes, Sir Andrew." Clovis gasped out. "Only please, I beg of you, do not take too long. I can feel my body rising up, I shall burst out upon you very soon!"
Andrew held very still until Clovis' tender young bowels seemed to release the overly tight grip they had held upon his cock, then he began to push it gently into Clovis' bowels.
And Clovis groaned, bucked about like a man possessed, Andrew felt the raging power within this young frame.
"Slower, my little one, slower." he cautioned.
But Clovis caught Andrew tightly, his legs wrapped about Andrew's thighs and he fucked himself upon Andrew's body by clutching himself the more tightly to Andrew and thus sending Andrew's prong deeper into his bowels.
And suddenly Andrew as in the middle of a hurricane of young rut, Clovis was groaning, he felt salty jism pouring from beneath this robe which was getting soaked with Clovis' ejaculation, and thence the sperm gushed back down around Clovis' shaft and thus poured upon Andrew's dong.
Andrew surrendered then to this youth's gluttonous lusts, he had the clutching bowels of a young man's climax to spur him on the more, his impassioned prong gladly opened the door of orgasm for him and Andrew felt his body wracked with the pleasure of climax, he jetted his wads into Clovis' ecstatic bowels, and Clovis' face, all red and flushed with his desire, turned on a radiant grin as he felt Andrew's prick squirting into him; Clovis tossed his head in the aftershocks of adolescent rut, and when Andrew was finished and fell gasping onto him, Clovis reached and promptly clutched his lips against Andrew's once again, sucking the very life out of him by refusing to let him use his mouth for air, forcing him instead to wheeze in through his nostrils the essence of the air into his famished lungs.
Andrew did not resist this final ardent kiss, but when it was done, he smiled and stroked that tender young face and brushed the hairs back from the forehead with satisfied fingertips.
"Have you given thought to how you'll live in this place?" He asked Clovis after a time.
Clovis turned serious. "I have no choice." he admitted. "Still, I cannot be the only one in my position. There is another, Brother Dision, who has cast looks my way. Our work has not yet let us be together here, but that will change."
Andrew smiled. This young man would be sensible after all. If the monk in his service chose to spend his nights in the bed of one of his fellows, who would be the wiser? And even then, one of the many reasons that the Church of Carlovain had schismed from the one at Rome was because of the insanity of the rule of celibacy. As if God, who had created all things, could only be worshiped by one who forsook the most basic source of human happiness.
A monk brought a platter of food into the room. These monk cells had no locks upon them, there came a knock and then an immediate entrance without waiting for permission.
"I have brought you refreshment, my...Lord...."
Andrew was surprised at the face confronting him. He tried to rise, but Clovis' body was still wrapped around him, and Clovis did not make a move to rise up.
This let the monk place the tray of food upon the floor and flee the room before Andrew could so much as rise from his feet.
"Do not worry." Clovis said as Andrew opened the door again and looked down the hallway. Nothing there. "He is one of the kinder brothers. I am sure he will be discreet. He is very understanding."
"What is his name?" Andrew demanded.
"Uh?" Clovis asked, astonished.
"His name! What is it?"
"He...he is Brother Eserel." Clovis said. "He joined the brotherhood some two years ago, I am told."
"Eserel." Andrew said, to remember the name.
"Is something wrong?" Clovis asked, rising up.
"No." Andrew said, smiled at Clovis. "Nothing is wrong. Would...would you go and get me some wine, if there is some available?" The monk had brought in only fruit and water.
"Yes, Sir Andrew." Clovis said and rose, pulled his robe back down and smiled demurely. "I shall be back soon."
Andrew hardly noticed Clovis' departure. "Eserel." he said again. And again. "Eserel."
Now he knew Renaud's name as a Merlemagnist monk.
THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR