Date: Mon, 18 Jan 1999 01:30:45 +0900 From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com> Subject: priest-03 -------------------------- I started writing gay stories in 1985 and to now I wrote about 80 of them. Being Italian, of course I wrote them in Italian. Now, many of my friends asked me to translate them in English. But my English, also if understandable, is surely not a "literary" one: I can't know all the nuances and literary tricks I can use in Italian. I need somebody revising my translation. Now, I found a person that is kindly helping me with my stories. But I can't ask to one single person to help me with all of my stories. So, if amongst you there is somebody (with a good English style) that thinks this unpaid work worthy, and wants to help me, I would be really happy. If such a person exists, can send me an e-mail at: andrejkoymasky@geocities.com ---------------------------- PRIEST, FOREVER - 3 by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1999 written the 21st of January, 1995 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Alun. ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "PRIEST, FOREVER" 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, ore because you think yo really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest. ----------------------------- RENOVATION As Spring of the following year came, the new vicar arrived at the village and life continued as always. Until that evening when Don Marco did his first visit to the tavern. Beniamino, when he saw the Priest enter, at first thought to amuse himself by pulling the leg of the young Priest. Yet his kindness, his gentle smile, his beauty, all in a few minutes conquered the boy. He felt incredibly attracted by that young man, not only because he was handsome, but because of the gentleness that transpired from his eyes and from his smile. Gentleness, but strength and self assurance, a man that was not easy to intimidate. In short, a real man. A few days after that evening, Beniamino met Don Marco on the street, "Oh, Beniamino, how are you?" "Very fine, and you, Priest?" "Fine, thank you. What are you doing?" "I went to buy eggs for the innkeeper's wife. Do you want a couple?" "No, thank you." "Why? From the others you accept a gift. Why is that? Just because I don't come to church?" "No," Don Marco answered with a smile, "it is because the eggs are not yours. You cannot give me what belongs to others." "Oh but I can," Beniamino shouted with pride. "I bought three dozens by the countrywoman and she gave me four, for me, so I can give you two, if you want them, that is." "Forgive me, I judged you wrongly. Then, I willingly accept them." "Why did you became a Priest?" "Why? It is like hearing a call, 'Follow me'." "From God, you mean?" "Yes, sure." "Ah, you are a lucky man. To me, your God, doesn't speak. When I needed him... Once, when I was a boy, I went to church. But He took away from me everything. First my father, then my mother, then... I was crying to Him for help, but He didn't answer back. Evidently He didn't give a shit for me. He was busy in other matters, while those two soldiers were..." he said with vehemence, than became silent. "Perhaps, instead, He was hearing you." "Ah, really? And was He amused, then? Where was He?" "Nailed to the cross, He was dying for you..." "Ha, a powerless God, then! What use is He?" "...to resurrect one day, with you." "One day, when?" "When you are ready to grasp at Him and to resurrect with Him." "Ready? No, inside me there is no more place for Him. Inside me there is just the Devil. Don't you know?" the boy said, seriously. Don Marco smiled with gentleness: "It is not possible, come on! Not behind those pure eyes." "Your eyes are pure, Priest. I envy you. Well, goodbye. Come again to see us, you'll always be welcome." Don Marco looked at the boy who was going away, lean, nimble, merry. That boy fascinated him. He could feel his gentleness closed inside the hard crust of cynicism that life had imposed on him. He could feel his warmth, his need of tenderness. He would have liked to embrace him, to kiss him, to caress him. Don Marco shook off these thoughts, "Oh, Lord, can You see how weak I am? Why does sympathy, love, transform itself so rapidly into desire? Help me, Lord. I would like to help that boy, I want to help him, but I don't want to do that for my pleasure, for myself. Help me to be near him with affection, but not with desire, I beg You, Lord." Don Marco decided to repair the school and to start again some courses for the village boys. So, one evening, in the tavern, he explained his project to the men and asked if somebody was available to help him. His words were received by silence. "I'll help you with the manual work, Priest!" Beniamino said aloud, then asked, "And you, Filippo?" "Bah, perhaps, sometime." "Yes, come on, Filippo! Nobody else?" "I could make the frames just at the price of wood ." the joiner said. "Thank you very much. But the problem is that the Parish church has no money, the offerings are very scarce." "How much do you ask him for a door?" the baker asked, "After all it is for our children. I'll willingly pay for the expenses of some doors or windows." The works at the school soon started. Even the boys went to help to clean, to eradicate the weeds and little by little, the first room was in order. Don Marco brought from the church some old pews that were adapted so the first class could start. The teachers were the same Don Marco, the Maestro and his wife. The boys started to attend. They taught them to read and to write, they made them play games, sing and they taught them the basic things of the social life. Don Sergio was happy and one day asked to be brought to visit the school, that had now two room in order, so that they could divide the older boys from the youngest. When back at the rectory, Don Sergio encouraged the young brother, "You are doing a wonderful work, Don Marco. Plus I noticed that in the church there is even some more men attending." "The Maestro asked Filippo to go and play music with him at the ten 'o clock Mass. So, now friends of Filippo started to come." "You are really tireless. I know that you also go to visit all the ill people." "Well, visiting the ill people is one of the mercy works. So I can also know their families, talk with men, and get to know the children." But Don Marco didn't content himself with that. The small lands of the church were badly cultivated by the farmers, who had more profit to cultivate the good lands of the Abbey or of the Count. Those lands of the Parish produced very little. So, Don Marco went to visit those farmers and told them, "To you, taking care of the Parish land, is not a good business, it's more of a burden, right?" "Eh, yes, Reverend, we just do it out of good will." "Yes, I perfectly understand. So, together with Don Sergio, I thought to relieve you from this burden and not to renew the contract." "But so, they will go back to a wild condition." "Eh, they are quite so." the young Priest said. In reality he had in mind something different. There were, in the village, some beggars, some widowed women with small children being hard up. So he gathered them and said, "Who of you is available to cultivate the Parish land? He can keep for himself not the thirty, but the fifty percent of what he gets from the land. Who wants an annual contract so that next year, the person who made the land yield, can have a new contract and keep for himself the sixty percent? But those of you that are lazy and cannot make the land yield, can loose his right to work it, at other peoples' advantage. Who of you accepts?" "But we have no tools and we have no seeds." one of the man said. "I'll get them for you and you will pay for them with part of your proceeds, at harvest time. I was thinking that at the place of the former sacristain's house, we could even build a stable, for those of you that would like to have a cow or some sheep. Again the proceeds from these animals will be collected at harvest time." Several accepted. Don Marco divided between them the land, according to the work they presumed they could carry out. He often went to the fields to help, to encourage, to give advise and he was helped at times also by the Maestro son. "Don Marco, you are killing yourself with work! The church, the visits to the ill people, the school, the fields work! You have to take care of yourself, a little." Don Sergio said to him. "I never felt better, I assure you. The air of those mountains does me good. Ah, I was thinking, the Corpus Domini is approaching. We will do a beautiful procession, like in old times." "You mean, out of the village?" "Sure. We will go to bless the pastures, the fields, the woods and the waters." "What about the outlaws?" "I will bless them also, if they came." Don Marco said, smiling. "Be careful, they are not men to be trifled with. If they know, they for sure will come to disperse the procession, as they did before." "And if they disperse it, we will reassemble it." "May God assist you, Don Marco. I'm a little worried for this idea, but I will pray for you." "Do your very best, then." the young Priest said cheerfully and kissed the thin hand of the old man. This one blessed him with affection. Don Marco had the white and red altar boys tunics darned, had the canopy pulled out, carefully polished the monstrance, took all the thuribles and the hand bells he found in the church, carefully planned the procession and asked the Maestro to guide it with the processional cross. When the Priest traced out the route, the Maestro said, worriedly, "The old route? But, don't you know about the outlaws?" "Bah, perhaps we can take them by surprise. Probably they don't expect that..." "I don't really think so. But if you want to try it... Just, I don't know if people will follow me, when we go out of the village." "I will follow you, anyway. I don't give up without having tried." The Corpus Domini day arrived, and after the solemn liturgy in the church, amidst the pealing of all the bells, the procession went out of the church. Singing, they proceeded along the main street, then went out from the mountain's gate towards the Abbey. The people followed, quietly. But at half way, the Maestro turned on the road going down to the pastures. The people had a murmur, but followed the canopy, still compact. They passed through the fields, then went up towards the old water mill. The outlaws were in the woods when they arrived. When the procession neared they came out of hiding riding their horses, shooting into the air and directed yelling horrible shouts towards the head of the procession. The outlaws barred the way. Everybody was still. The Maestro, with his cross, looked worried to Giannotto, who was looking with a mocking air and a sneer at the procession. Then Don Marco, praying out loud, so that everyone could hear, intoned the Psalm, "My strength is in the Lord's name." and alone went on walking towards the outlaws. Giannotto looked at him with a grim frown, but Don Marco's face was serene and smiling. With the monstrance he traced a blessing sign towards the outlaw, continuing to declaim the psalm. Giannotto continued to stare at him, but Don Marco didn't divert his eyes, on the contrary continued to look at the man with a quiet and gentle smile, even when the outlaw raised his pistol toward him. Everybody held his breath. Giannotto continued to raise his pistol and with it made a gesture toward his men, "Let's go, we are not interested in four old hens and one tone-deaf cockerel. Scram!" and all the outlaws went away at a gallop. The Maestro resumed walking and started to answer to the psalm. Soon everybody joined the chorus. Songs and litanies resumed and the procession continued to the end without any more problems. When Giannotto met Beniamino, said: "That man is strong. It seems nothing scares him!" "Yes, he is a true man." the boy said. "Hey, do you like the young Priest?" "Sure. He treats me as a human being. He shows me liking and he is not ashamed to be seen talking to me." "Hey, I too treat you as a man. No? Are you perhaps complaining about me?" tense the outlaw said. "No, I feel good with you and you know it. But I would like if..." "To fuck with the Priest?" "To make love with him. With him I'll do it even for free, as with you. You are so different and yet you two resemble so much." "Yes, like the devil and the holy water! But you are right, he is the only one who has been able to hold his own with me and without a rifle in his hands. There is no way I cannot have respect for a man like that and not to respect his courage. He can do his processions. And I gave my men the order never to plunder the Priest's land. Anyway, he is helping the poor people. It is not an exploiter like the Count or the Abbot." ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 4 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/ ---------------------------