Chapter 8
EMMETT
When I awake I realise I’m in my own bed, and the events of last night come back to me in a hazy rush.
Too fantastical and dreamlike to be believed except for the smell of rosemary and the other herbs, along with a deep contentment in my bones.
It had been my intention to get caught in his bed, to blackmail him, and if he didn’t capitulate, to create a fuss and give weight to the rumours.
But I hadn’t expected him to appear naked.
I’ve always been aroused by other men, a fact I found out when swimming with my friends in a lake as a youth.
I also found out quickly that others didn’t share my desire and it was considered at worst, a vile and contemptible act, and at best something to be ridiculed.
I learned to hide that side of me and soon stopped taking part in those activities.
But seeing Theobald in front of me, his body on show, his cock hardening in my presence, because of me . . . all thoughts of my reasons for being in his bed left me, and I wanted him.
I’ve never been with anyone previously. Even though there’ve been plenty of opportunities to bed the serving girls back home, they never held any interest for me.
But as I knelt before Theobald, I would have done anything he asked.
Even better was that he thought me to be good.
No one has ever praised me before and I wanted to please him.
I longed for every word he gave me, every touch and caress to my skin.
I sink back onto the bed, conflicting thoughts running through my head. What does it mean? What happens now? But all I really want is to see Theobald again. Suddenly restless, I dress quickly and go in search of him. I meet Abel in the small sitting room, where he’s sweeping the floor.
“Where can I find the abbot? I need to speak to him immediately,” I demand, and he looks at me sharply. If he has any knowledge of what happened last night, he doesn’t show it. His face is as stonelike as ever.
“He has devoted his morning to silent prayer,” he replies bluntly, and my hope of finding Theobald sinks. Then I remember what day it is.
“Is there a public Mass today?”
“Yes, there will be,” he replies.
“Good, good,” I mutter. I’m not sure what I can do with that information or how I can make Theobald see me afterwards, but I’ll figure it out.
“There’s some bread and cold meat in the dining room if you’re in need of food,” he adds, sounding almost congenial.
“Thank you, Abel,” I reply, surprised by his tone, and he nods. Which is practically cordial, as far as I’ve seen anything from him. I try not to read too much into it and find I am hungry, so I seek out the food and sit eating thoughtfully.
I think back to how Theobald’s cock felt on my tongue.
I’ve never tasted a man’s dick before, but I happily devoured him, and when he spilled his seed in my mouth it felt like a gift from heaven.
I’m not even ashamed at how I clung to him.
He made me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt for a long time.
I yearn for him to touch me again, to make me feel good.
After I’ve eaten, I have a little time before Mass so go and visit my horse.
There are a couple of riding horses as well as a few work horses in the stables.
She blows out a small greeting as I approach, and I feel a little guilty that I didn’t visit her yesterday.
I check her over but see she’s being cared for very well.
Then I hear the bells start ringing and see people from the village entering the monastery grounds through the gatehouse.
I quickly step into the line and follow them into the church.
The coolness hits me first, followed by the singing, a hundred voices raised in praise.
I look around in wonder as I shuffle after the person in front of me.
A space opens up ahead and I dart through it, managing to gain the last space on the foremost pew.
Stained glass windows depicting biblical scenes send diffused coloured light around the vast space.
The rest of the villagers fill up the pews and a hush settles over them, a collective holding of breath.
Then I see Theobald emerge. His vestments are white, on his head a mitre, and around his neck, the ornately embroidered stole he demanded I wear last night.
I hated it then, but seeing it now and knowing what we did, a delicious chill runs through my body and my cock twitches.
Theobald takes the lectern and looks out over us all.
I stare up at him, and for a beat his eyes meet mine and one side of his mouth quirks up.
Then his glance moves on and I bow my head.
I smile to myself, taking that look that was just for me and locking it inside.
He starts his sermon, but I don’t listen to the words he’s saying, and certainly not their meaning.
Instead I let his beautiful deep voice wash over me.
I don’t know the words to any of the hymns, but the singing has a reverence that ignites my soul.
I’ve never considered myself a religious man, attending Mass was something I did as a duty.
An obligation to be endured if occasions demanded it.
I still don’t think piety is a path I could follow, but seeing Theobald, his robes bathed in radiant shafts of light, his rich and vibrant voice reverberating around such a holy and reverent space makes me want to worship him.