Date: Thu, 8 Aug 2013 13:09:33 -0400
From: Jake Preston <jemtling@gmail.com>
Subject: Queering Benedict Arnold 10

Queering Benedict Arnold 10
London: April to August, 1762
By: Jake Preston

This episode includes explicit man-to-man sex, so the usual restrictions
apply: no minors; no unlawful reading. Jake Preston will reply to all
sincere comments and suggestions are welcome at jemtling@gmail.com

Remember that while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not, so
contributions are needed, and welcome!

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	On Benedict Arnold's twenty-first birthday (Jan. 14, 1762), Daniel and
Joshua Lathrop repeated their offer of full partnership in their Norwichtown
apothecary. He declined the gift because he wanted to start his own apothecary in
the expanding town of New Haven. He scouted out a building to rent, opposite the
village square and down half a block from Yale College, which seemed to gain
new students each hear. Like most apothecaries, his business would be a "general
store" as much as a drugstore, but Arnold thought that he could attract Yale
students by tripling as a bookstore. The Lathrops approved their nephew's
ambition, and understood his desire for independence.

      To mark the end of his apprenticeship, the Lathrops could have given
Benedict 20 shillings and a new suit of clothes-that was the legal minimum.
Instead they gave him £500 to establish himself in business, and provided him
with letters of introduction that he could use to purchase commercial goods in
London to bring back to his new store in Connecticut. To get some idea about the
value of this gift: in 1762, a young man could hold his head high in London
company for £25 for five months, if he lived in a garret (at 18 pence a week) and
was frugal with daily expenses. Arnold didn't bargain so low as a garret, but he
rented two rooms in Pall Mall, not far from Mayfield Chapel, in a house owned
by John and Margaret Terrie: a downstairs parlor and an upstairs bedchamber for
20 pence a week, for himself and his "attendant"-Caribou Brave.

      Always a shrewd businessman, Arnold sailed to London with a trunk full
of Mohegan remedies, and herbs that he cultivated in pots under every window of
his little apartment. He also took with him three trunks loaded with American
books about "Indian antiquities." He had calculated (correctly) that these books
were not to be found in any English bookshop. He planned to use them as gifts to
curry favor with some influential English lord; or, failing that, he knew that they
would fetch a good price from London booksellers.

      You may wonder, Dear Reader, why Arnold took Caribou Brave with him
to London, and left Red Feather (his lover) behind in Connecticut. The reasons
were political. Red Feather's father-the Mohegan Shaman-and his uncle, Chief
Benjamin Uncas, pleaded with Red Feather to remain in Norwichtown because
they were getting up in years. Red Feather agreed. It was a sacrifice that he made
for the welfare of his tribe. Caribou's father-the Abenaki chief Natanis-was
still a vigorous warrior; and in London, Caribou would be in a position to present
himself to King George III as an Abenaki diplomat. The memory of Chief Natanis
was still fresh in English minds-how just two years earlier, he withdrew his
allegiance to the French and supported the English in their conquest of Montreal
and Quebec. It would not be difficult to persuade the English court that it was
Caribou Brave who had changed his father's mind. And because the French army
was still fighting the English in parts of Canada, the English War Office could be
counted on to decide that diplomatic relations with the Abenaki would benefit
England. It would benefit the Abenaki, too, if Natanis's heir apparent returned to
New York with personal knowledge of the English court, and experience with
diplomacy. This made sense to Chief Natanis, who trusted Benedict Arnold-also
known as Dark Eagle, his foster-son-to look out for Caribou's best interest in
London.

      Daniel and Joshua Lathrop were gleeful when they heard about this plan.
They ransacked the Norwichtown apothecary for deerskin costumes, beads and
trinkets, tomahawks and peace-pipes, bows and arrows, feathered headdresses,
and fine pottery that Caribou could take with him on his mission. For the good of
the cause, Chief Benjamin Uncas contributed a Mohegan birch-bark canoe.
Nothing works better in court than a few well-appointed gifts made to the
politicians who turn the wheels of diplomacy. Some of these articles of "material
culture" were not, strictly speaking, Abenaki, but as Dr. Daniel Lathrop remarked:
"There is so much trade among Indian tribes that only a native can tell if an
artifact is Abenaki or Mohawk, Narragansett or Mohegan-or Chocktaw or
Cherokee! You won't be the first Indian to make the grand tour of London
dressed in eclectic costume, but, my boy, I am certain you'll be the first one who
really is a prince."

      When the chests and baggage arrived and took up a third of the space in
the parlor, Mr. Terrie, the landlord, seemed suspicious. "I'm just an apothecary on
a trip to buy merchandise for a store in New Haven, and Caribou is my attendant,"
Benedict said. "The plants at the windows are native Mohegan herbs, intended as
items for trade with English apothecaries. The trunks are filled with items for
trade."

      "And where will your Injun servant sleep?" Mr. Terrie asked.

      "That's what the canoe is for," Arnold replied. "There's no accounting for
Indian customs. I stopped trying to understand years ago." With a show of
nonchalance, he unfurled a Penobscot blanket and slid it into place in the canoe. It
was a ceremonial blanket, intricately designed. His landlord was astonished that
Arnold should allow a mere servant to make use of such a valuable covering.
Arnold ignored him and unfurled a second blanket over the first. It was a
Mohegan blanket, even more intricately designed than the Penobscot one.

      "I don't know which one is odder, American Injuns who sleep in canoes or
their colonial masters who make up the beds for them," Mr. Terrie remarked,
shaking his head as he departed the parlor.

      In the upstairs chamber, Benedict Arnold and Caribou undressed for bed.
"I hope you'll be comfortable in the canoe," Benedict said. Caribou laughed, until
he realized that Benedict was serious. "Our landlord is dangerous," Benedict
continued. "I've got an uneasy feeling that he'll be paying another visit."

      An hour later, Caribou awoke to the sound of the parlor door opening. He
saw Mr. Terrie with a candle in one hand and a bottle in the other. "Who's there?"
he called from his makeshift canoe-bed.

      "Oh! It's just me, John Terrie. I brought brandy. It has always been my
custom to welcome new tenants with a gift of brandy."

      "You'd better come in then," Caribou said. He exited the canoe and lit an
oil lamp. He was naked. Mr. Terrie gazed at his virile body while he stepped into
deerskin trousers. "Mr. Arnold told me that you English are nocturnal creatures
who stay up all night and sleep from dawn until noon, but it's late by American
standards."

      "You American gentlemen are so unusual that you caught me by surprise.
I forgot the brandy in my earlier confusion," Mr. Terrie explained while he
brandished the bottle. Caribou realized at once that the gift of brandy was a prop,
in case Terrie got caught violating the gentlemen's privacy.

      "We'd better open the brandy then," Caribou said. "Mr. Arnold is fast
asleep, I'm sure, but he would be angry with me in the morning, if he learned that
I had failed to show hospitality to such a generous guest in the privacy of our
quarters."

      "For that we need brandy glasses," Mr. Terrie said.

      "It's just the two of us here, and the master is sound asleep. No one would
know that we drank brandy direct from the bottle," Caribou laughed. He was
determined to separate Mr. Terrie from a rather expensive bottle of brandy. That
would be the penalty for intruding on their privacy.

      Mr. Terrie made no objection when Caribou opened the bottle. The
fleeting profile of the Indian's youthful nudity flashed in his mind. He lifted the
bottle to his lips and complimented Mr. Terrie on his good taste in brandy. He
handed the bottle to Mr. Terrie, who did the same. The sensation of brandy in
their empty stomachs eased the tension between them.

      "We must look like a brandy-bibbing scene from William Hogarth,"
Caribou said. "Maybe we would be more comfortable in the sofa."

      "You know about Hogarth, then?" Terrie asked while he followed his host
to the sofa. They passed the brandy again. Caribou filled a ceremonial peace-pipe
with tobacco and lit it. They passed it between them.

      "Hogarth is well known in New England," Caribou said. "We have several
sketches for sale in the apothecary in Norwichtown. Pirated," he laughed. 'The
Rake's Progress' is much in demand. We have some portraits done in the Grand
Style of Joshua Reynolds, too."

      Caribou told Mr. Terrie how he became a prisoner ofr war, apprenticed on
his honor in the Lathrops' apothecary in Norwichtown along with two other
Abenaki. "We were set free when the Abenaki nation ended its alliance with
France and took the English side in the war," he said. "I chose to stay in
Norwichtown, because the Lathrops treated me well."

      "How did you come to know Mr. Arnold?" Mr. Terrie wondered.

      "He was an apprentice too, but he came into wealth when he turned
twenty-one, so now he is setting up for business in New Haven," Caribou replied.
      Mr. Terrie was favorably impressed. His Old-World respect for inherited
wealth outweighed any admiration that he might have had for the steady
application of hard work. He seemed more interested in Caribou's status than in
his character, too. "So you're not indentured," he mused.

      "Our association is voluntary."

      "But why would an able-bodied man like you continue to follow a would-
be apothecary all the way to England?" Mr. Terrie challenged him.

      "Mr. Arnold saved my life once, during fighting at Fort Ticonderoga,"
Caribou said. "To an Abenaki, there is no difference between a moral obligation
and a legal one."

      A man of character would have inquired what Benedict Arnold had done
to save an Indian's life. Instead, Mr. Terrie's eyes narrowed at the implication that
the Abenaki, and by extension most Indians, were on a stronger moral footing
than colonials, and by extension the English. "I'm surprised to see in you an
educated man of so many parts," he said, changing the subject.

      "Dr. Daniel and Mr. Joshua Lathrop taught us well, as did Mrs. Lathrop."

      "Even so, you cut a fine figure as a naked savage rising from a canoe,"
Mr. Terrie laughed.

      "Why, thank you sir, Mr. Terrie," Caribou replied. "You cut a fine figure
as a landlord. That's some sort of lord, as I suppose."

      "Perhaps you could humor a horny lord by returning to your primitive
state in nature," Mr. Terrie said in a slightly inebriated accentuation. "Your virile
physique exceeds all I imagined in a warrior's body."

      Caribou laughed and bowed mockingly: "You are too generous with your
compliments, Milord!" Their eyes met in the flickering light of the oil lamp. After
a long silent moment, Caribou stood up and shucked his deerskin trousers. Mr.
Terrie handed him the bottle of brandy. While Caribou swigged, Mr. Terry
reached for his cock, which grew to throbbing hardness.

      "I've heard tell that the Indian nations are the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel,
but your generous foreskin indicates an ancestry likely more Greek than Jewish,"
Mr. Terrie said.

      "I wouldn't know anything about Greeks or Jews, but perhaps both our
ancestors escaped the destruction witnessed by the wife of Abraham's nephew
before she was metamorphosed into a pillar of salt on the Jordan River," Caribou
said.

      "You know your Bible, but I want to know you biblically." One erotic jest
deserves another, but Mr. Terrie topped his jest with a gest. He took Caribou's
cock in his mouth, half-way up the shaft, and probed Caribou's arse with his
fingers.

      "You're the landlord, Mr. Terrie, sir," Caribou said. "If you've come for
the rent, I'm in no position to refuse."

      Naked they rolled on the ceremonial Narragansett blanket that graced the
floor. Its blue lozenge and red zigzag patterns and bright yellow wigwam-images,
glowing in the light of Caribou's oil lamp and Mr. Terrie's candle, came in and
went out of view as the Abenaki warrior and his English landlord tussled and
tossed. Mr. Terrie's kisses were frantic but not without design, descending from
Caribou's torso down to 'trinitarian maleness', as he called it; then round to the
cleavage that pointed the way to 'heaven's gate', another metaphor proffered by
his Puritan lover. Caribou offered to return his kisses, but Mr. Terrie seemed more
content when his partner grew stoically passive. Their passion was interrupted by
a comic interlude when Mr. Terrie tried to penetrate Caribou's unlubricated arse.
Caribou freed himself from Mr. Terrie's grasp, fetched a leather bag of bear-
grease, 'bugger-bear' as he called it, and repositioned himself with his arse on a
pillow and his legs spread apart. Mr. Terrie knelt before the cockpit and
administered bugger-bear to his cock. Slowly he inserted two well-lubed fingers
into the palpitating target. "Now I can roger you," Mr. Terrie said, using an
obscene verb that suited the occasion. Caribou Brave had never heard this cant
term before. It was worth an arse-drubbing to learn this colorful bit of slang.
While they fucked, Caribou spurt cum in copious supply, which inspired Mr.
Terrie to flatter himself on his love-making, but the real reason was that Caribou
had endured almost four weeks at sea without sex. The truth of the matter is that
Caribou would rather have been in bed with Benedict; Mr. Terrie was just an
expedient substitute. To give credit where credit is due, after Mr. Terrie shot seed
in Caribou's arse he flipped him on his belly and seeded him again in a
triumphant double-fuck. Neither man had cause to complain when they sat on the
sofa and passed the peace-pipe again.

      Next morning, Benedict learned from Caribou Brave that Mr. Terrie did
not pose quite the danger that he has suspected. "I still wouldn't trust him,"
Caribou said, "but we needn't fear him spying on us for signs of sodomy. Mrs.
Terrie is another matter. Their marriage is not a happy one. If she gets suspicious
and wants us out of her house, who know what she might say to the neighbors?"

      Fortunately for our heroes, Caribou Brave was only half-right. When Mrs.
Terrie berated her husband for his absence during the night, he said that he had
been spying on their new tenants and found out that one of them was an American
Indian. "I found out that he sleeps in a canoe, of all things, in blankets that are
littered with pagan designs," he said.

      "I'll not have a savage barbarous Injun in my house!" Mrs. Terrie
exclaimed. "Upon my soul as an upstanding Christian woman, I'll not be having a
pagan savage sleeping under my roof, not for another night!"

      There was no reasoning with the landlady, but Benedict Arnold agreed
with the landlord that they would leave by the end of the week. That morning he
found a house to rent in Southampton Street, three blocks from the Thames and a
block from the Strand. "We need a place that is big enough to double as a
warehouse," he said. "It's a short walk to the Turk's Head Coffeehouse, and close
to Somerset Coffeehouse, too, not to mention Rose Tavern." They didn't wait for
the end of the week. Benedict hired movers to transport their belongings on the
same day.

      Mrs. Terrie kept out of sight when the movers came. Mr. Terrie observed
the move and was most apologetic. "No worries about that," Benedict said. "All's
well that ends well."