THE STROLLING PLAYERS by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008 written on June 3, 1992 translated by the author English text kindly revised by The Australian
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE STROLLING PLAYERS" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
CHAPTER 6 - The initials game
Vance sat down and said to Lord Lionel O'Neil, "Yes, it could be a way to made time pass. Be so kind as to teach me, then."
Lionel started explaining him each piece's moves. While he was listening to him, Vance looked at his beautiful face suffused with melancholy.
All of a sudden, he said, "Forgive me, milord, why don't you smile more often? Your face becomes really beautiful when you smile."
"Do you think there could be some reason to smile, in this place?"
"How long have you been closed behind these walls?"
"Two years."
"And... do you know when you would get out?"
"Possibly only when they can take me out in a coffin. They very well know that if they freed me I would immediately join those who fight against the English oppressors. I am just an Irish enemy, I have no escape."
"Were you taken prisoner in a battle."
"Yes, of course."
"So young? You were just sixteen, then."
"As soon as we are beyond puberty, we Irish swear to fight the invader. Noblemen or craftsmen, countrymen or artists, without any distinction. Even being of a clan or another makes no difference."
"So, you surely hate all we English people."
"No, we don't hate you, only your King and his noblemen."
"The King is still a child..."
"At whose name are accomplished the most base deeds. Aren't you too here in the name of your king?"
"Right. Henry VI, the child King, the puppet King." Vance murmured.
"If you are overheard, you will be charged with treachery. Be careful!"
"At this point... I was sentenced to twenty years jail, in spite of the skilled defence of Lord Mountbatten."
"We will have plenty of time to spend together then."
"That's so, Lord O'Neil."
"Call me Lionel, please. After all we have almost the same age."
"But you are a nobleman and I just an actor."
"No, we are just two prisoners, two boys that are buried alive. Two useless beings, forgotten by God and by men... like everybody who preceded us in these walls. Do you see those writings carved in the walls stone?"
"Yes, but I am not able to read. In my room there are many, but I, unhappily, am not able to understand them."
"Do they make you curious? I too was, at the beginning. I now know them all by heart. They are prayers, invocations, curses. At times just names and dates. They are sparkles of nostalgia, abysses of despair, sarcastic epigraphs about the human justice, dreams of an unreachable freedom, love declaration for lost lovers... I have felt tempted on a number of occasions to add something of my own... I will possibly do it next time when I feel next to become crazy. Not now, no, not yet."
"You are at least able to write, to read, you have even books... I can just think, fantasize, silently repeat to myself the lines I did or could do in the plays of my repertory..."
"Wouldn't you like learning to read and write?"
"Bah... why not? After all it could be another way to spend my time. But wouldn't you please, now, go on teaching the chess game?"
Lionel nodded and resumed his explanations. They played for a short while then the supper time came. The two servants had set the table in the communal hall at the lower floor. Vance had accepted for some time to give a fixed rate in the common found to buy the food with which they integrated what the warden gave them. After the supper Shelley and Trevor went to play cards. Oliver went back to his cell to end carving his new work. Vance again went upstairs in Lionel's room, and the young Irish boy started to play his lute.
"Is it a love song? Is it in your language?" Vance asked him.
"Yes it is in Irish and is a love song for my green and wretched Ireland."
"I thought it was for a woman."
"No."
"Didn't you leave a woman in Ireland. Aren't you missing her?"
"No, I didn't leave any woman, and I don't miss any."
"At our age, our blood boils, our body feels the need for a contact."
"Are you missing a woman?"
"No... but at times... at times I feel so lonely in that bed downstairs. I miss somebody with whom I can exchange some tenderness, somebody to desire and from which feel desired..."
"You are therefore missing a woman. Why did you say you didn't?"
Vance didn't answer, but asked, "But you... did you ever made love?"
"Don't you think that these are questions best not put to ask to a gentleman?"
"I didn't intend to offence you. Mine was just curiosity. I thought that between two boys of the same age there would be nothing wrong in talking of these matters. Anyway, if these subjects don't suit you, just don't talk about them."
"You can possibly be right, Vance. The fact is that I am not accustomed to talk of these matters. In the family or with the friends nobody ever talks about our affective life, and even less about the erotic one. At least not in Ireland."
"I don't know how it is amongst the English noblemen, but amongst us actors, on the contrary, we always confided everything to each other. When you share the food, the shelter, the work... why not to share all the rest? With a stranger of course, I too, would keep silent about the subject, but with a friend, I think, it would not be sensible. If there is something really intimate, this is love, much more than sex, don't you think?"
"Would you talk of it with me?" Lionel then asked him with an almost unbelieving expression.
"Haven't we been sharing things for many weeks now? Of course I would talk about it with you! Mainly with you because you are practically my age, therefore understand me better than the others."
Lionel kept silent for some time, then resumed playing his lute. Then without stopping to play it, asked, "Were you ever in love?"
"I don't think so, but I have had several rendezvous. Anyway they were often purely physical ones. The first time it happened one year ago. I was of your same age you were when you were captured by the Englishmen. That first time it was just a physical thing... I was almost raped..."
"Raped? By a woman? How is that possible?"
Vance laughed and explained, "Of course not, they were two men."
"Two men? It had to have been horrible!"
"At first it was so. But then, you know... one gets used to anything... so it started to seem agreeable."
"You mean that it can be agreeable for a man to be subjected to the yearnings of another man?"
"Exactly. So much the better if the partner is skilled. I think that our body is able to adapt much better than our spirit. The body has not principles. It only has goals, and the main goal for our body is to feel good, to enjoy, to get pleasure, don't you think? Once it gets its goal, the body feels satisfied, regardless of how it reaches it without many problems."
"Are you meaning that you... you mean that in the physical union between two men there can be... pleasure?"
"Does this amaze you so much?"
"Yes, of course. I thought, I was always taught that the man is only made to meet a woman and vice versa."
"Didn't you ever hear, up to now, that there are also men who have sex, and at times also who love each other?"
"No, never. What I heard say is that there cannot be friendship between a man and a woman but only love or indifference, and that the real friendship is possible only between men. As I told you, we never talked much about these subjects, but I got the impression it clearly was as I say."
"I am not able to say if being with a woman, friendship is possible or not. But I know that between two men, friendship, sex, and also love are possible, even though I think I've never experience this last one."
"But shouldn't sex and love be coinciding, and is it not marriage the real condition where both have to be?"
"In my opinion they can coincide or not, but it doesn't exist only in marriage. Two real lovers, even though they are not married, share both love and sex, don't you think so?"
"I don't know. I... I still don't know love and... and sex neither. Therefore I am not able to tell you."
"At eighteen, you still don't know sex? You never had any... any experience?"
"You forget it is now two years since I've been shut in here and that in the two previous years I just fought day after day."
"But aren't you feeling that energy that demands to be relieved? You never feel inside you the desire burning like an untameable fire? Haven't you woken to the desire of having some of your flesh begging for relief?"
"Do you mean... those moments during the day when... when some parts of our body longs for caresses? Like for instance, when we wake up in the morning?"
"Yes, I think so. Our hands know by instinct where to lead themselves and what to do..."
"Well... it happens... that's sure. It's been the case for many years to now..."
"And... always alone?"
"Certainly yes! Why?"
"Why? Because... that desire is not just a request for relieve, but rather for a contact, for a mutual contact, an exchange, a relationship. Giving oneself relief all alone, with one's hand, is nothing but a poor palliative that afterwards leaves you unsatisfied. It is like the difference between speaking with himself alone in the dark cell of an English prison, just to avoid becoming crazy, and the free conversation with a dear friend, or even a conversation with a passer-by, a foreigner in you beautiful Ireland, do you see?"
Lionel assented with a light nod, than said, "But talking with a passer-by or with a friend is something easy, natural, which is accepted by everybody. I can quietly and safely talk with you, or my servant, or Lord Shelley, but not do, with the same easiness, naturalness... those other things."
"Of course. Any comparison is weak if you take it too literally. Just as you wouldn't talk about any subject with one person, but choose to talk about that subject with another one, according to the sensitivity of who is listening to you. It is the same way you can find somebody with whom... let yourself go to discuss more intimate things."
"But you, since you are shut here, have surely had to relieve yourself alone, I guess."
"This is right but, you see, I don't intend to go on like this for twenty more years, trust me. And you are the most delightful and desirable person who is in this prison... and not only in this prison, believe me."
"Are you making a proposal to me?"
"No, if this troubles you so much, but sincerely, I like you very much. I would like doing it with you."
"I... I'm confused. I didn't wait for this conversation to lead to such a proposal."
"Lionel, since the first time I saw you I felt attracted to you, I confess to you. There are natural choices. You can well see how Lord Shelley prefers to spend his time with Trevor, and that Oliver makes conversation more willingly with your servant Stewart or with Charles. You also see that we two are almost always together."
"Out of friendship, possibly out of affinity. Not necessarily for what you... imply."
"Of course I'm not saying that the others, even though we can't even exclude it... but that does not interest me. However, what concerns me is... you. What I feel is more than just a liking, more than just friendship or for that matter, even desire."
"But I... I don't feel like... like accepting your proposal. I am not sharing your feelings towards me. I mean, I do feel a liking, friendship as well, but not desire."
"Does it bother you, now, knowing what I am really feeling towards you?"
"No, Vance... not at all. I am rather sorry to disappoint you. I hope, I think, we can become friends, deeply friends, because I really like you, and because we are almost of the same age, and because a friend can help pass the eternity we will have to spend in this place."
"It is alright with me. I accept with pleasure your friendship and I ask you nothing more. I couldn't anyway. Such things have to arise from the heart spontaneously. One cannot decide upon it with cold reasoning. I mean, at times, one can decides about a carnal relationship with a person in cold mindedness, that's true, but the fact that it happened to me doesn't means that it could happen to you too. I may not have your sensibility and your high-mindedness."
"You seem to be a really sensitive person. And yet you just told me, that at times, you have decided to carnally unite with a person not out of a particular affection or attraction, but just out of a rational decision!"
"Well... usually there was some attraction, even though not affection. I would not be able to unite with some people, not even with all my good will, believe me. For instance, never with a woman."
"With a woman? You mean that, up to now, you had such relationship only with men?"
"Yes. A woman's body doesn't stir in me any fantasy, any desire, no matter how remote. I am not the only one who feels in this way, believe me. Even amongst married men, there are some, who in reality, much prefer people of their own sex, and who marry only for social propriety."
"You are telling me things... these new, unexpected things. I can't but believe you, as you say you experienced them first hand, and yet, they seem to be so incredible".
"As much as it seems incredible to me that, being eighteen-years old, you never heard about them, and yet, if you say so, I cannot but take note and give you credence."
"In Ireland, believe me, all that concern sex, and even the use of the word 'sex', are never uttered."
"Yes, I do believe you. It's a real pity. The carnal relationship desired by both is one of the most beautiful moments in a human being's life. If beyond the desire there is also affection, it becomes not only beautiful, but sublime. It is sad having to talk alone, to eat alone, to play alone and to fight alone. It is far better doing all these things with another. Just think, then, how much better it would be enjoying the body's pleasures with another, and indeed, giving pleasure to the other's body."
"You say you are not cultivated, but you talk really well."
"I'm not able to read and to write..."
"As I told you, I can teach you."
Vance smiled and thought, "and I could teach you to make love", but he said nothing.
For some days they didn't resume talking about the subject. Lionel started to teach Vance reading and writing. They were spending hours on books and sheets, with paper and pen, and often Vance had his fingers stained with black ink. At the beginning he was feeling a little disheartened because of his scrawls and the difficulty in recognizing all the alphabet's letters, but then, almost suddenly, something seemed to awaken inside him and started to make rapid progress.
One day, they were bending over a book and Vance was reading the words one syllable at a time, when he managed to read a full line without mistakes or interruptions.
"... the riches, the fame, the honours of this vain world..." Vance read in one breath and looked triumphantly at Lionel.
Lionel looked at him with an approving smile, "Good, Vance. Really good! Do you see that you are starting to read with self-assurance? You would deserve a prize."
"Then... give me a kiss..." Vance whispered, shyly smiling.
Their faces were almost touching. They remained still, eyes upon eyes then Lionel whispered with an almost inaudible voice, slightly hesitant, "I was about to give it to you... but I don't feel ready, but I was almost kissing you."
"Ready? Ready for what?" Vance asked, he too in a whisper filled with emotion.
"For... for all the rest that a kiss usually is a prelude. For some days now, I have feet the impulse to give you a caress, to girdle your shoulders or your waist in an embrace, but I think it wiser to control myself."
"Why are you then confessing it?"
"Because telling you seems to be the first step to show you what I really want to do. Because I am feeling in some way compromised with you. To be sincere with myself, I had hoped you would take that first step. I am starting to desire it, but I'm fearful of making the first move."
"Is it perhaps starting to be a burden for you to be always alone with your hand?" Vance gently asked him.
"No, it is not so, believe me. It is rather the desire to destroy the walls that separate us that makes of us, even if we are friends, two strangers. It is possibly the desire to share with you more than a meal, a conversation, a game, a lesson or just some time. It is the desire to share with you something more important and more intimate. Yet... and yet I am not still able."
"We have time. I will not force you, or push you on this road. It would not be fair. I would possibly have already done it with another person, but not with you. This has to be entirely your decision. I... I cannot but hope and wait, in spite of my strong desire for you."
"I think you are right, Vance. Forgive me for my outspokenness and my... forwardness."
"You are not at all impudent and I like you more because of that."
"I also like you more and more. Knowing that you desire me is making me feel odd and rather beautiful emotions."
"Let's resume our lesson, now."
"Yes, I think it would be better."
Vance resumed reading but his mind was only partly absorbed with the reading. The other part was thinking about what they had just told each other and he was asking himself if he had been right deciding not to make the first step. He was feeling he desired Lionel with a growing intensity, with an increasing passion. He never felt anything like it for any other man. Could it possibly be love?
Or was it only the fact that they were shut in there, together, for an eternity? The fact that Lionel was the most beautiful, sweetest and desirable in this small community?
That same night Vance, when he was alone in his bed, thought for a long time of Lionel. He wasn't able to fall asleep. He was tossing and turning from side to side, on his back or on his belly. At times a strong erection arose, and he tried to imagine Lionel's naked body that he still hadn't had the chance to see. Yes, he desired that young man, but not only his beautiful body, not only the pleasure that he could get touching it, making love with him.
He desired much more. To be able to enjoy again his smile, hearing the sound of his voice, he desired belonging to him and that Lionel belonged exclusively to him. He concluded that it was not only because they both were prisoners. It would have been the same, or even better if they could belong to each other while enjoying full freedom. Would Lionel in that case follow him in the peddling actors' wagon? He, Vance, would have surely followed him in the Irish battlefields to face the English oppressor, even though he himself was an English boy! He would have fought against his own people, for Lionel!
He finally fell asleep in the dead of the night with this awareness in his heart, feeling happy. Yes, that surely was the love sung by poets and celebrated in playhouses.
In the following days Lionel noticed a change in Vance. He did at that point, know him well enough to detect things that the other prison companions didn't seem to notice.
Thus, during one of their chess matches, he asked him, "What's up, Vance? I've noticed a subtle change in you, in these last days."
"A change? How?"
"You seems me more thoughtful, less worried. Brighter, in a sense. I'm I wrong?"
"I don't know... possibly not."
"Would you like telling me?"
"I would. But I'm afraid that there are things that words are not able to express."
"You've never had difficulty with words."
"But I have now. At times I build in my mind a sentence, a verse, a speech to express what is happening within me, but each single word, each sentence, each expression, each accent, all seem inadequate to me, empty and superficial. So I keep silent. I would rather to be silent than to spoil the beauty of what I am feeling."
"You could at least give me a clue..."
"A clue?" Vance smiled, then sweetly said, "You! That is the clue."
"I? It's me who raises that light in your eyes? It's me who gives warmth to your smile? Me?"
"Does it amaze so much?"
"No, in reality it should not amaze me, but that light, that warmth... they are not just desire, are they? That light, that warmth must have a name... yes, have a name."
"Do you hesitate uttering it?"
"Don't you?"
"Yes, I hesitate to pronounce it aloud. I'm afraid to spoil it. It is so often used inappropriately".
"I can understand you. I too, would hesitate pronouncing it, but, have you ever thought that my name and your name together form this name?"
"I don't understand..."
"Write my initials on this paper. No, write them again, first the initial letter of my name then the initial of my surname. Well. Now add after them your initials, on the same line... what did you get? Read the word that results and you have written..."
"L O V E" Vance read.
"That's it! Love. Was that the word?"
"It is really beautiful. I never imagined that you and I, together... give birth to this magic word."
"Wasn't this the name you didn't dare say?"
"Yes, it is this."
"Why were you afraid to say it?" Lionel asked.
"Because... because I hoped to hear you pronounce it first."
"Yes, for days now I have been shouting it, inside me."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, I love you Vance, I can't deny it any more, either to myself or to you. I love you, Vance. I love you!"
"I too, Lionel, and I want to be yours."
"And I yours. But..."
"But?" Vance asked, slightly alarmed.
Lionel took one of Vance's hands between his and gently squeezed it. He smiled at him and murmured, almost with shame, "Be patient, about our bodies. Lead me through the lanes of the physical love little by little. I'm absolutely inexperienced, as you know. I entrust myself to you. Don't go too fast... my love."
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 7
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