THE SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN
Chapter 5
"Allies Both High and Low"
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Andrew heard the door to the quarters open some unknown time later. He felt groggy and sore still. They had mentioned bringing in someone else to share the quarters, so he lay still, assuming that Adomeh would take care of it. It wasn't until the figure approached his bed still in total darkness that he spoke up. "Here, who goes there?"
"You are awake?" came the whispered response. "Good. Help me rouse your comrades, quietly, for there is little time." The figure said no more, but moved on to the next bed.
Andrew turned and pressed Trevish's shoulder. "Trevish? Trevish?" He kept quiet because it seemed the thing to do, furtiveness was being called for, for whatever reason.
But Trevish did not awaken. The figure, now his voice distinguishable as young and male, was at the next bed, attempting to rouse Adomeh. "Sir? Sir? Pray awaken, pray." The young man did not dally or persist, but moved on to the final bed.
"Trevish? Trevish?" Andrew was concerned, Trevish seemed to be unconscious rather than asleep. "What is going on here?"
"Shh!" the young man hissed. "There is little time. If you are the only one who did not partake of the drugged wine, then that is as it may be. Your comrades are alive, merely in a deep sleep under the power of poppy seed. May God grant that they did not drink overmuch. Pray, sir, dress yourself quickly. They'll be coming for you all in a few minutes!"
"Who are they?" Andrew had grown up in a rather isolated inn in a land which was mostly peaceful but suffered occasional raids of robber bands. He had therefore the instincts at least to rise quickly, pulling on his clothing and shoes and then to find his sword, rather than laying there dumbly while he sought more information. "How many of them?"
"More than you will be able to fight without your comrades' help, were that your plan. Come, we must depart by the window, for they approach even now." The sounds of men in the courtyard below with the distinctive rustle of metal and leather, told Andrew that they were many and armed. He did not delay further but joined the anonymous man at the window.
The young man (Andrew could see now that he was dressed in peasant attire, was slim and rather small of frame, and then the young man jumped without heed of the distance, downwards.
The door was opening, Andrew did likewise, praying that more than hard ground awaited him below.
The soft, rolling, slippery, prickling feel of hay greeted his body at the bottom of the fall, though not much of it, his body still was jolted from the drop. Andrew tumbled with it and off, and looked about, then followed the young man to the left in a path which would take them to the stables, through this narrow alley between the back of the buildings and the wall. A ladder at the stable carried them up into the loft of the stable's second floor which was level with the top of the wall at this point. This space just below the roof, which slanted only downwards towards the inner courtyard, was crammed with hay and Andrew still followed the young man, until they fetched up into a corner there where the roof made crawling necessary.
"Lie down here." the young man instructed as he hastily dug a concavity in the loose hay up against the foot-high wall there.
His life was in this young man's hands. Andrew obeyed, and the young man piled hay hastily against him. "Lie here and wait." came the brief instruction when he was done
"Who are you?" Andrew asked into the hay-filled darkness.
"I am Neresterii." came the enigmatic response. "You may depend upon me. Now be silent, for they will look for you very soon." There was a brief rustle and then silence for a short spell.
"Search the ground!" came the call. "One of them has escaped!"
More sounds, identifiable as the sounds of the barnyard, as the horses were roused and moved, as the men moved about, calling to each other. But they were not readying the area for the day, they were searching. For him.
"Mmmh?" came the sound of his friend. "Here now, who are you?" he called out in a loud, clear voice.
"Cedril?" came the answer. "We seek one of those dogs of royal guards who came in this afternoon. He has made an attempt on the life of Lord Dentremon. Has he come this way?"
"Nay, nobody, until you came in and disturbed the horses. It has taken forever for them to settle in and I had just gotten to sleep."
"We need to look around up there." and the dimness of yellow torchlight permeated Andrew's covering of hay. The boards beneath him quivered under the feel of many feet.
"Look all you wish, but wary of the torch." Cedril said. "There is only hay up here, and I do not sleep that heavily."
"We should bring up pitchforks and poke through the hay." one of them suggested.
"Ah, why bother?" Another said. "We have the walls alerted now, and with doubled guard. If he is within the grounds, we will find him wherever he is. He cannot hide from us forever." Now the feet moved the hay very near to Andrew, and hay dust flew up, giving Andrew the desire to sneeze. He held his nose, then flinched as his movements disturbed the hay slightly. But hay is long stalks of grass, the movement was generalized and not extreme.
"Watch that torch! The hay is dry from the heat and the very dust can catch fire." Cedril warned them. "This barn would be all ablaze in a moment's breath!"
"We'll do it come daylight if he is not found." the other decided. "For now, the stable-rat is right, for I have seen barns catch fire from hay-dust touching a fire."
"So get those torches out of here." Cedril persisted.
"We're going, but sleep with one eye open, lad, there's a reward for the man who catches the assassin." The man said.
Andrew dared to breathe when darkness came again, and his fingers up his nostrils removed the urge to sneeze entirely as he picked and scraped the hay-dust out. Then froze as the hay shifted again with movement near him.
"Sleep now if you can, but sleep quietly." the voice came to him. "I must try to find out where your comrades are taken. My brother works in the house, I shall ask him what he knows. But in the morning."
"Thank you." Andrew said. "But who were those men?"
"The house guards." Cedril informed him.
"But Lord Dentremon supports the King." Andrew said. "Has he changed sides?"
"Nay, but he is feeble and old, and his sons have one eye on the future, and thoughts of the grants of Neresterii lands they may obtain from Grand Duke Charles if they can add Carlovain to his land-holdings."
There was a long, very long pause. Andrew tried to sleep, knowing he needed the rest and yet he could not, dared not. What if he snored? What if men came into the loft while he was asleep and he had turned, revealing himself? So he lay wakeful for a long time, dropping into light naps, then jerking awake with a start.
And so passed the rest of the long night, his first away from home.
The bustle began early that next morning, horses being called for and Andrew, bemused by lack of sleep and despite his situation, nearly found himself responding automatically to this familiar request. Cedril was doing so, of course; while he lay in hiding. Andrew waited fearfully for the threatened search of the hay-loft, but it never happened.
Cedril came to him later, bearing water and a hunk of bread, and Andrew saw him clearly for the first time. As young as Andrew, with a simple, round face, wide cheekbones and nut-brown eyes, his hair was brown rather than black. Some of the eastern Neresterii were brown-haired, the result of long association and intermarriage with the peoples of nearby Saxony. His body was thin and nearly bony, with sharply visible collar-bones and the faint appearance of the hip-bones at his pelvis that even his baggy peasant garb could not camouflage.
"Do you have word of my friends?" he asked.
"Arise, good sir, and be comfortable. You are fortunate, for word has come of a battle shaping near Castle Tiresval. Armed men have gathered, and while it is not yet besieged, they will close the circle soon. Those who wish to enter the castle to defend it needs must leave soon. Lord Dentremon has sent two thirds of his men with them, along with his younger son, Marcel. Now only Sir Jean Dentremon is here to continue his treachery."
"I remember him well." Andrew said, grimly. "What of my comrades?" he pressed.
"I know not, save that they were not transported with those who left. They are most likely kept in the Lord's prison."
"Prison?" Andrew said, his heart failing. "We have to get them out of a dungeon?"
"Dungeon? Nay, Lord Dentremon refused such a dark punishment even for criminals; the cellars beneath his house have not been used for prisoners since my grandfather's time. He has a set of quarters behind the house a ways to the north, with a high wall and constant guards. The accommodations are quite pleasant, I am told. Not that I have seen them."
"I must speak to Lord Dentremon." Andrew said firmly. "Perhaps he can get his son to answer where my comrades are."
"You do not ask for little." Cedril sighed. "I shall speak again to my brother but I have little hope of success. I will have to wait for an opportunity to present itself."
He went away again and Andrew waited through the morning, ducking back into his cubby of hay and covering himself as best he could when people entered the barn. But the house was about and most of the horses had all been ridden away; he was seldom molested even in this way. He had the long hours to rest, fret about his comrades, and wait.
As midday approached, Cedril returned. "The Lord shall call for his carriage after luncheon. He sometimes takes an afternoon ride to aid his digestion. I shall bring the carriage into the barn in order to fix a problem with the wheels and to harness his horses. When I do, you must clamber underneath it as quickly as you can. There is a small space beneath the rear seat of the carriage, used for baggage, but wherein it is possible for a man to ride hidden. You are to get into it and stay there until he leaves the castle. From then, you will have to wait until he signals that you can speak with him. The opportunity may not arise, if his son insists on accompanying him. In that case, you must wait for an opportunity and escape of yourself, and you will be henceforth on your own. Otherwise, Lord Dentremon will advise you on what to do next."
Andrew thought about it. Free, but with his friends in prison? Well, he could summon allies from the peasantry--the common folk were loyal to the King almost without exception, it was the auslander gentry and their lackies who were not to be trusted. And it was better than lurking in the hay afraid to show his very face, as he was now. "Agreed."
"I must go now."
"For what?" Andrew asked. He knew stables well, and now that the barn was thoroughly cleaned and the horses watered and fed, a stablehand could have little to do throughout a greater part of the midday.
Cedril smiled. "I must fix it so that his Lordship's carriage has a problem with the wheels." He then left.
Andrew was left again to wait and fret. This time, he did not have long to wait. He heard the carriage being backed in, and this time he did not hide, but watched warily as the carriage was pushed into place. An open-air model used by gentlefolk to take their pleasure in warm weather, it looked frail and hiding in this carriage looked impossible. But Cedril closed the doors and then nodded to him, and Andrew came down.
Two other men were there, Andrew looked at them warily.
"Fear not, they are friends of mine." Cedril said. These are the ones who will drive the carriage for Lord Dentremon."
"Where do I hide?" Andrew said quickly.
One of the men opened a square door in the back, and Andrew slid into it. He had to perch inside uncomfortably crumpled up, with his knees up to his chest and his head bent over, but he fit and the door closed on him. And yet again he waited.
The carriage was tugged out with a jerk, and the horses harnessed to it. Many voices and noises, then the familiar voices.
"Shall I accompany you, father?" Jean Dentremon said in his silky tones.
"Not unless you wish it, my son." Lord Dentremon said feebly.
"Do you insist on this ride, father? Your health is frail in this heat."
"The house is stifling hot. I shall ask them to drive me to the river and find a shaded spot for a few hours. Nay, I'll take the basket with me in the carriage. Here, give it me. I may wish to nibble on the ride, my stomach had no peace for luncheon, but now it feels better, just being out of that house."
The cubby to his hiding place rattled then stopped, and Andrew realized that only Lord Dentremon's quick thinking had saved him.
And the carriage shifted to permit Lord Dentremon to enter, bucking back and forth wildly, and with a call to the horses, they were off.
The ride was miserably jolting, worse than the horse, to Andrew in his position. Andrew heard Lord Dentremon moan and curse the drivers, and they went slower, which helped.
Finally, they stopped. Andrew waited, and the cubby was opened. River, shade trees, a cool breeze off the water blew into his stifling cubby.
"Come out, young Andrew." Lord Dentremon said.
Andrew stepped out, stretched, then remembered his manners, looked back at the carriage. Lord Dentremon was still in the carriage, perched forward on a cane, regarding him.
"So we meet yet again, young Squire of the King."
"Your Lordship." Andrew said, managed to sketch a bow, felt awkward. Nobles didn't expect an innkeeper's son to bow, only to step lively and fetch them this-and-that; he had no practice.
"You think I don't know my own son?" Lord Dentremon said.
"My Lord?" Andrew asked.
"I know full well what Jean has planned. Why else should I ship off every loyal soldier I had to Castle Tiresval this very morn, along with my younger son Marcel? Marcel was decent enough to warn me of Jean's plans long ago and has only pretended to go along in order to help me ferret out the traitors, so that I could separate them easily." Lord Dentremon groaned. "I sent them all away and my task was to be done. With only traitors to the King around me except for my house servants, I could have relaxed and simply watched the forthcoming events. Now I must bestir myself yet again."
"I beg your pardon, your Lordship." Andrew said. "But my friends are in your prison."
"Nay, they are not." Lord Dentremon said. "I inspect the place myself every few days, and this morning happened to be one of those times. I was looking to see which of the chaps I could afford to set free, to join the loyalists. My prison is small and I saw its every quarter. Your friends are not there."
"Then where?" Andrew said.
"I have been thinking of just that since I heard of your plight." Lord Dentremon said. "And I remember that my servants have been busy for some reason in the cellars of my house all morning long. Now since I keep nothing there save my wine casks and other such supplies, why would they need to spend so much time in there? The only other thing inside is the old dungeon of my late and unlamented grandfather."
"My friends." Andrew said.
"Ah, you are clever." Lord Dentremon said. "Good, good. I believe you are right, though I do not know anything for certain my son does not wish me to know. And my servants mainly desert me now, seeking his favor rather than mine. Good, I see you have your sword. You must return with me to the house, and enter the place this night by stealth. I will be able to aid you no longer, I fear. From now on, I am merely a senile old man who thinks of nothing but his food and his damnably uncooperative bowels. Win or lose, my usefulness is at an end. I feel in my bones that my death-day is very near. I must tend now to my soul and its needs, and the place I am to occupy in Heaven."
"Our kingdom shall be the poorer when you depart, my Lord." Andrew saw the reddish flush on the old man's cheeks. Yes, he was not long for this world. "We shall miss you."
Lord Dentremon formed his creased face into a smile. "Bless you, my child. Everyone else tells me how well I look and that I'll live a dozen more years or some other such nonsense. But I have already summoned the priest to me tonight, that I may be shriven."
"We should get back, then." Andrew demurred.
"Nay, not yet." Lord Dentremon said. "I said I would now spend my time as I wished. Do you think I brought this food and wine to eat alone? You and I shall sit here on the riverbank together, and eat and drink, and you shall tell me all the news you can about my dear old friend Falin."
Andrew smiled. "It would be an honor, sir."
"No, don't move a finger, that is what my servants are for. Let them set things up. Tell me, how are things with that fetchingly beautiful English woman he married, your mother?"
"Beautiful?" Andrew said in some surprise. "My mother?"
"You should have seen her in your infancy. Beautiful indeed, though with a temper to her. You have something of her looks to you." Lord Dentremon said. "I see I have things to tell you as well." And so began a surprisingly agreeable afternoon.
He again rode back in the small cubby, his stomach comfortably stuffed. There was some noise as they made it back into the house, a commotion that Andrew couldn't identify, to do with the Lord's return. It was some time before they pushed the carriage back into the barn and opened the cubby. Andrew crawled back into his hayloft hiding place, there to wait out the day.
Cedril was there, relaxing, triumphant. "I took advantage of your absence to have the guards search the barns thoroughly, claiming I heard a board breaking. They poked this hay in every corner. You are doubly safe here now."
"That is good." Andrew said. "And why are you here and not helping in the fields or house?"
"The entire house rests, and will until near sunset." Cedril said. "I am suspected to be off somewhere, shirking my duties and probably swimming in the river, as I frequently do in the hot afternoons."
"It would have been pleasant." Andrew sighed. "I feel very dirty and grubby indeed. I have not bathed properly in days."
"Then I shall bring up buckets of water and give you the bath." Cedril invited. "It shall not do for you to enter the Lord's house tonight while dirty. I have learned from my brother that four men are being kept in the old dungeon below the house. Your friends, I am certain. But first, your bath." He looked over the edge, and then slipped down. He came back with two buckets of water, tied by their handles and slung by a rope around his neck, so that they dangled in front of him as he scaled the ladder.
Andrew found himself relaxing. He had a long wait and a dangerous mission for this night, but his mission came with a plan. With allies like Cedril and Lord Dentremon, in stations both high and low, he felt invincible. He could wait to do it. For now, he would simply enjoy life, the soldier's prerogative.
Cedril had a cleared-away space in one alcove of the hayloft, which looked as if it were never used for anything but his personal needs. Andrew had looked earlier, the only window looked out only at the tops of the row of guest houses where he had stayed so briefly, and he could not be seen by accident even from the wall. He was quite safe here.
Cedril watched as Andrew removed his tunic. "May I assist you in your ablutions?" he asked.
Andrew looked at him, surprised. "I have no money to offer you." he demurred. Such small services to a stranger such as he were usually a ploy for a tip.
"I did not ask for one." Cedril replied. "But we don't wish to prolong this bath with its attendant noise despite the quietness of the summer afternoons. It will go quicker and quieter if I assist you."
"Agreed." Andrew said. Cedril took a sponge much like the one Andrew had plied over his body--was it only two days ago? It seemed a lifetime!--and dunked it in the bucket and played it over Andrew's body. His motions were strong and sure, the hands of a stable-hand used to sponging off heated horses. Andrew let him run the sponge as he would over his upper body, circling motions over his back, up and down his arms in slow, languid movements. Cedril then moved to his chest, and Andrew saw the thin arms play the sponge over his body, again the thrill of the cool water rivuleted down his abdomen and into his trousers, and stroked his groin and again his body responded. Unbidden, his hand reached out to stroke Cedril's arm.
"You could also do with a touch of the cool water, I think." he said softly.
Cedril hesitated not at all. "I think so, too. They may wonder at the water coming through the floor slats, but if they find me wet, they'll not think of you."
"Let me repay you by washing your own body." Andrew said.
Cedril fumbled off his tunic with eager, trembling fingers. Exposed, his chest was startlingly pale and flat, unmarked with any distension of muscles. How did this frail body hoist about horses, pitch hay, wield the harnesses?
Andrew took the sponge and put it into the bucket. The water in the first bucket was nearly gone. He ran the sponge over Cedril's shoulders, and Cedril closed his eyes and crooned a soft moan. Andrew smiled and turned the sponge-bath into a stroking of the slender body, until the entire capacity of the sponge had been spent and turned Cedril's slim form into shining alabaster.
Andrew boldly grasped Cedril's pants and found the tie. "These must go." He said without preamble and found the knot. Cedril made no move to help or stop him, and Andrew slid the pants off the lanky thighs. Revealed, Cedril's cock was smallish but bold in its smallness, much as Cedril. Andrew made no further pretense of washing Cedril, he grasped the young prong and manipulated it, and Cedril groaned.
"Oh, sir, yes, thank you." he gasped out. "Thank you."
"You have earned it." Andrew said. "And now you shall earn more."
Cedril took the not-too-subtle hint and his avid fingers found and pulled Andrew's cord and Andrew's pants obligingly fell to his feet.
Cedril saw the huge meat Andrew had for him and his young lips opened, and he dropped to his knees and dove onto it hungrily. Andrew groaned as the greedy mouth swallowed him down and Cedril's head bobbed frantically, trying to drain him all at once, immediately.
Andrew had dropped the sponge into the second, filled bucket, and now he groaned, found it with one questing hand, and brought it up, and squeezed it over Cedril's active, hungry head, pouring the water over his young love-partner and dousing the hot form with cool water, bringing the now-damp sponge up to his face and wiping it, feeling the spiders of water droplets crawling down to his elbows to spin threads and drop off, as Cedril continued to milk at his manhood, sucking and tugging at him with fervid embracing lips.
"Ah, enough, young sir!" Andrew said at last. "Let us take this to your bed where we may lay together in comfort and at each other's convenience."
Cedril crawled to his bed pallet rather than arising, and Andrew stepped out of his puddle of damp clothing and followed him as a master follows his dog, kneeling and grasping the gangling hips as Cedril made it onto the pallet and hitching him upwards. Cedril permitted this impertinence, putting his face down and his rear upwards, and Andrew quickly guided his saliva-smeared cock to Cedril's writhingly available puckerhole.
It was an axiom that no servant of a lord's house was virginal; too many people sought their pleasure in too many ways for innocence to have any chance of surviving long. Andrew was not surprised that Cedril took his rather large organ with no problem at all, indeed, grunted impatiently as Andrew kindly inserted it slowly despite the impudently rash approach.
Andrew thrust at the bony butt and felt the sharp pelvis slap his thighs as he humped into Cedril's warmly clutching bowels. Cedril was bobbing his head like a chicken seeking and eating the grain cast before it, up and left, then down, to rise again and give to the right, in constant motion, though the search here was not for food, but the expression of pleasure as Andrew fucked the throbbing butthole that danced around his cockhead, clutching and pulling at him even as Andrew thrust into Cedril in ever deepening and rougher lunges.
Cedril groaned, writhed in total abandon, and his asshole clutched Andrew's cock tightly. Andrew felt Cedril's orgasm enwrap his penis and transfer the energy to him somehow, he groaned as the thrills of climax raced up his body and assaulted his brain like invaders scaling the castle walls, overcoming his weak defenses and racing into his inner bailey of self, there to shout triumphantly as he squirted copious wads into Cedril, pumping into him heedless of Cedril's comfort, and Cedril was quiescent now beneath him as he shot his loads into Cedril's body, until at last, spent, he leaned over and rested his upper body on Cedril's narrow back, gasping his life back into himself, the way a stormed castle, the invader departed after looting it, has its former denizens sneak stealthily back, to attempt to resume the tenor of their lives once more.
"Ah, sir, you were wonderful." Cedril said to him.
"Nay, you were better still." Andrew said. "We shall rest and then resume this pleasure."
"Cedril?" came a call from below. "Cedril?"
Andrew looked about, but the sounds of steps came then from the ladder which bucked rhythmically. He had no other choice, he dove into Cedril's pallet-bed and covered himself, a pitiful hiding place.
"There you are!" came the voice. "Quick, saddle up a horse and ride to the village. We need the priest, now!"
"What is it?" Cedril said. "I was taking a bath."
"I noticed. Lord Dentremon is taken ill. He needs to be shriven now, not tonight as he had planned. Hurry, for the young Master is with him now. You will have to answer to him if the old Lord dies without the priest to hear his confession first."
"I will go now." Cedril said.
And the figure departed, so distracted by his momentous tidings, that Andrew was never seen.
"Lord Dentremon dies." Cedril said. "And the young Master is with him. The house shall be in chaos, all abustle with doctors and people running various errands for them, and servants slipping in to say their farewells. Now is better than nighttime for you. Arise, and rescue your friends now. You'll not have a better chance."
"I was thinking the same thing." Andrew said. Voices were moving around the courtyard, symbolic of the rushing figures all around. And more and louder voices rose to his ears with each moment.
Victory belongs to the bold, his father had taught him. Boldness was called for. He would be one more moving figure in the milling crowd. He hoped!
He dressed, buckled on his sword, took a deep breath, and strode boldly out the very door he had cowered from the entire day long.