Chapter 3
THEOBALD
Istay kneeling, my head bowed as I recite the Lord’s Prayer, letting the brothers file out to make use of the few minutes they have before bedtime.
I can feel Brother Kennard’s eyes boring into me but I ignore him.
It will be the same look he gave me as I arrived to lead the prayers.
Obviously thinking I’d be busy with the visitor, he had already assumed the lectern.
His scowl when I moved to take over was deep and dark.
But I wanted to send him a clear message of what happens when he tries to manipulate me.
It’s almost stooping to his petty level, but there’s another reason why I wanted to be at prayers tonight, and it’s what keeps me on my knees and whispering the Lord’s Prayer over and over hoping to drown out the visions. So far it’s not working.
The boy can’t help it. But across the table at supper, when he looked up at me from under his lashes, I was transported back nearly thirty years.
Another pair of blue eyes I haven’t thought about in a long time.
It was the same look Henry used to give me as he knelt before me.
Then he’d give me an impish smile before he pulled down my hose and devoured me.
We frequently met where we could, in the stables, in closets when we had to attend balls.
I even fucked him against a tree when we were hawking one summer.
I don’t know if it was love, I certainly didn’t want to define it and I know Henry didn’t.
We didn’t speak of it much. In public we were cordial to each other, we could pass as mere acquaintances, but in private we knew a carnal pleasure few get to experience.
We’d had no plans, no ideas of a future except to enjoy each other.
We were both second sons of noblemen, not required to follow in our fathers’ footsteps; we had a certain amount of freedom.
We gave no thought to what would happen if anyone found out either, but they did eventually.
Perhaps a stable boy tattled on us, I don’t recall those details.
I just remember being hauled in front of Henry’s father while my own was summoned.
We both received a beating, publically, in front of the whole of Henry’s household.
Both of us were forced to kneel, exposing our bare backsides as we were thrashed with birch twigs.
The last vision I had of Henry’s beautiful eyes was of them brimming with tears as he looked at me as we knelt in the dust.
I never saw him again after that. He was forced to marry his cousin, an older and rather spiteful woman from what I remember.
My father was more lenient with my fate.
I could be married or I could choose to come here.
I had no interest in married life and so chose this path instead.
I found that life in the monastery suited me rather well.
The routine that had been lacking in my life was calming.
As a novice there were opportunities for liaisons with the other brothers if you were careful, even with senior brothers patrolling the dormitories at night.
But I found as I applied myself more to prayers and my duties, those urges diminished, and I’ve kept my vow of chastity along with the other virtues I hold sacred ever since I became fully ordained.
But seeing Emmett has brought back memories and a stirring of something long forgotten. I rise, my knees creaking as they do more and more these days. I should remember to apply the salve Brother Matthew made for me. The prayers aren’t helping so maybe paperwork will.
Not long after I enter my office, Abel appears with a mug of warm mead and extra honey. My usual evening drink. I plan to work for several hours, and there’s a bench in my office where I can nap if I want to before Matins, after which I’ll usually go to my bed.
“How is our visitor?” I ask as Abel places the mug amongst the papers scattered across my desk.
“Well enough,” he grunts in his usual manner. “But I reckon he’s trouble.”
“Of course he is,” I reply. “One word from him and we could be kicked out of here without a groat.”
He just grunts again incoherently before he leaves. I feel he has more to say but I don’t press him. Right now, Emmett is the last thing I want on my mind.
I apply myself to the accounts for a couple of hours.
There’s a lot to do. When the surrounding monasteries closed, we took on as many brothers as we could who wanted to join us.
We now number nearly one hundred, along with the thirty lay members of the monastery who help us.
And then there are the supplies for the infirmary, which is the only place in the district now that can help the sick and injured.
We took on more patients—those well enough to travel—after the loss of our neighbours.
Although it’s engaging work, I can’t concentrate at the level I need to.
And although Emmett’s eyes and his expression swim in front of my eyes, it is Henry who keeps floating through my thoughts.
Urges that haven’t plagued me for thirty years rise up and my cock hardens.
I reach for it through my robe, hoping to suppress the feelings.
But as soon as I touch it, my hand moves of its own accord, the coarse woollen fabric providing a friction that leaves me gasping.
Even though I can’t stop, I know I shouldn’t do this.
It’s forbidden. I have given myself to the service of God, and keeping myself chaste is a vow I take seriously.
Even touching myself, especially while thinking of another, is wrong.
But I can’t stop now. A thirty-year itch, which hasn’t been scratched, and I’m powerless to arrest the movement of my hand, the exquisite pressure on my dick.
I double over, resting my head on my forearm on my desk, reciting a prayer as my hand moves faster.
I don’t want to stop it now, I want to feel the release, I will seek forgiveness later.
A double Matins to cleanse my soul again.
The familiar but long-forgotten tingling in my spine starts, and I chase the release, panting hard.
The door of my office slams open.
Fuck!
I freeze, my hand stopping mid stroke. I take a breath and then slowly raise my head ready to berate Abel for disturbing me.
I look straight into the face of Brother Kennard, who is giving me an expression I can’t read, but it’s not complimentary.
Abel is hovering behind him and I catch a look that he at least tried to stop him.
“Are you well?” Brother Kennard sneers and I straighten further.
“Yes, I must have dozed off over the accounts,” I say. It’s a poor excuse but it might just work.
“Well, maybe if you delegated some of them to those of us who are more than capable, it wouldn’t tire you so much.
” His voice is supercilious but I don’t buy it.
Nor would I ever let him near the accounts.
One of the others maybe, but I couldn’t do that without his questions as to why he was not involved, so I take on all the responsibility myself.
“I can handle them,” I say with as much authority as I can muster after being caught pleasuring myself. I let go of my dick, trying not to cry out at the loss of pressure and a thwarted release, and put both hands above the desk. I nod to Abel that he can leave us.
“What is it you want, Brother Kennard?” I say with weariness, as I know this will be a long conversation.
“I thought you would seek me out after Compline so we can talk about the visitor.” He makes it sound as if I should be confiding in him. I know better than that. “I see his horse is in the stable, so he’s still here.”
What a sneak, and yet he wonders why I don’t discuss important matters with him.
“He was tired from his journey and our negotiations will take some time.” It’s the only explanation I’m going to give him.
“Negotiations?”
“He will be requesting our surrender.”
“And you will allow this?” He raises his voice, resting his hands on my desk as he leans forward. Spittle flies from his mouth.
“What choice do I have? Do we have? We know what happened to Eynsham and Burford. We knew this day was coming.”
“You could stand up to him!” he shouts.
“Would you have me a martyr?” I rise and face him across the table. “I can serve my people better with my head still on my shoulders. I think I can negotiate a good deal. I have everyone to consider. I’m doing this for all of us.”
He scowls at me and takes a step back.
“Then go and negotiate rather than spending your time praying when I could take the lead,” he says, desperate for the last word and still smarting from what happened earlier.
“I need to show how devout we are and how worthy we are of the pensions I want him to agree to. Because we are devout, are we not? We pride ourselves on our virtues here at Larchdown. I would not have anyone think any less of us.”
I say this last as much for me as for him. Now my blood has cooled, I’m embarrassed I allowed myself to get carried away. It won’t happen again.