Date: Mon, 23 Oct 2000 22:52:50 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Knight of Carlovain, Chapter 4

		      KNIGHT OF CARLOVAIN, CHAPTER 4
		   "Brothers Edmegen, Clovis And Eserel"
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

     The monastery of Merlemagne was, of course, large and busy.  It was
the central hospital of Carlovain; those who were seriously ill were
usually brought here if at all possible, and the four other Merlemagnist
monasteries sent their more baffling cases here.
     He first encountered the former patients of the monks, outside working
in the fields to pay off their debts to the brothers.  They tended large
fields which were bringing forth a wide variety of produce, including one
field which seemed to be the various herbs and plants the monks used in
their healing arts, figwort, monkshood, poppy and hemp were a few of the
varieties that Andrew recognized.  The monks themselves did not shirk the
work, but were toiling alongside their patients, marked only by their
simple brown hooded robes.
     Closer to the monastery he found the campsites of the families of the
patients, a large place filled with people, women and children mostly, and
here, too, the monks moved about the populace, directing and ordering
things, and leading by example of industry.
     "Tend your horse for you, sir?" a young boy called out as Andrew
approached the gates.
     Suspiciously, Andrew looked down the face; the boy was young, perhaps
ten years old, and in rather ragamuffin clothing.  "Have they no stables
for a visitor such as myself?" he settled for saying.  This was not
vainglory, he rode a noble's white stallion.
     "Of course, sir, and I would take your horse there and water and feed
it and give it a good rub-down.  Only five coppers, sir."  Well, perhaps he
only wanted the few coppers at that, Andrew mused.  He saw a brother come
up.  "Brother of the Thorns," he addressed the monk.  "I am Sir Andrew of
Heslov, and I have come to see Brother Edmegen.  Can you see to my horse?"
     "Let me care for it, my Lord." the boy pleaded.  "A knight such as
yourself could use a squire on the road."
     He did so in the monk's presence and Andrew's querying look at the
monk received a smile and nod.  "Very well, lad." he said, dismounting.
"Tend it well, and the five coppers are yours."
     "Yes, sir, oh, yes, sir!" the boy took the reins happily.  "Come on,
boy, come on." he tugged the horse vigorously, the horse not wanting to
follow this urchin, but it did at last.
     "You're doing a kind thing." the monk said.  "His father has been
inside for several months.  We see his family is fed as well as we can,
but...."  He shrugged.  "Well, please, Sir Andrew, Brother Edmegen is
expecting you."
     A monastery has its public area where it interacts with the rest of
the world, and its private area set aside for its monks, for their personal
use, for prayer and contemplation, where none but its own can tread.
Andrew was startled to find himself led into this private area; it wasn't
forbidden but was highly unusual!
     He was led to a cell which received southern light, and inside this
sparsely furnished room lit with the golden glow from the window receiving
the warm autumn sun, there was a goodly-sized bed lain with fresh, clean
linen, and a couple of young brothers in attendance, and upon the bed lay
Brother Edmegen.  With a first pang, Andrew though of his father lying in
the bed back at Heslov Hall.
     But Brother Edmegen seemed to treat his bedridden condition as a minor
inconvenience, upon his lap rested an angular contraption that let him work
as if he were perched upon the stools of the monks' copying room, he was
wielding his lump of graphite bound about with a string to prevent the
black to get upon his hand as he worked.  A draft then, for all his broad
strokes.  He was white-haired, with a lined face, his clothing was white
which meant that he was ill, but his manner showed none of this.
     "Ah, a visitor!" He said as he looked up.
     "Yes, Brother of the Thorns, I...." Andrew began.
     "Wonderful!  Come, take a look at this!" the brother gestured him
over.
     Puzzled, Andrew went and looked.
     "How's this for a place for the people to worship the Lord?" Brother
Edmegen demanded.
     Andrew studied the drawing.  "A cathedral?" he asked.
     "See?" Brother Edmegen demanded of his attendants.  "This one
recognized it as a cathedral right away.  A barn, indeed!" he humphed.
     "It is not the usual design for a cathedral." Andrew said.  He had to
agree with these hapless attendants, the place resembled a barn with spires
around it.  Only the arch-shaped windows all along the outside had told him
what it was intended to be.  This place was...round!
     "And why should we build the house of worship like that cursed
Cathedral of Heslov?" Andrew demanded.  "You ever been inside it?"
     "Yes, sir." Andrew began again to identify himself but was again cut
off.
     "The peasants at the back of the room have no way of knowing what is
happening at the altar.  When the Church of Carlovain split from the Church
at Rome, we declared that we would be a church of the people, didn't we?"
     "Yes, but...."
     "So how can we be a church of the people inside that monstrosity?
It's...it's built like a pencil inside." the brother waved his long, narrow
stick of graphite at Andrew.  "Is it not?"
     "Yes, brother, but...."
     "So this cathedral I'm designing will take care of that.  You enter
down here...." the bishop said.  "Here you have a place for the people to
hang up their coats or douse themselves with holy water from the cisterns
there...some people like to practically bathe in it, that's no matter to
me... but when they are ready to attend the Lord, they go up these stairs
here!"
     The brother switched with a rapid rustle to a new paper lying
underneath the one he had been dealing with.  Andrew saw....  "You want the
floor of the cathedral to be built at an angle?"
     "Certainly.  Lift the back rows up.  Let them see what's going on!
Let them be part of the worship.  You, when you were in the cathedral,
where did you stand?  In the back, right?  Couldn't see a thing going on at
the altar.  So what did they give you to look at?"
     Andrew hadn't stood at the back of the Cathedral, since his family had
a balcony near the front, but he knew the answer to that....  "There are
statues of the saints there for mediation." he said.
     "Saints!" the brother nearly spat out the word.
     "Brother Edmegen!" one of the young monks said, horrified.
     "The saints are wonderful but they weren't meant to be substitutes for
the Lord.  When the host is glorified at the altar, and Christ becomes
flesh, that's where they should be looking, not at some old carved hunk of
stone!  My cathedral will let them do that.
     Andrew saw another of the drawings and pulled it out unbidden,
intrigued.  "The worship hall would be laid out like a...a cockleshell!" he
exclaimed.
     "That was my inspiration.  With the altar at the joining of the shell,
and the raised floor, everyone in the room could see the blessed sacrament
as it was elevated.  Wouldn't that be marvelous?" he said.
     "Why...yes, it would be." Andrew said.  He knew how he'd felt,
standing in the ducal box and able to see the grand ceremony up close and
clearly.
     "You, young man, are a man of vision approaching genius." Brother
Edmegen exclaimed.  "But now, tell me, who are you?"
     "I am Sir Andrew of Heslov." Andrew said.
     Brother Edmegen became solemn.  To his attendants, he said simply,
"Leave us.  I would speak with him in private."
     As the monks departed, he scolded Andrew almost petulantly.  "You
should have told me who you were."
     "I tried." Andrew pointed out.
     "Not hard enough, you didn't." Brother Edmegen chastised him.
"Leaving me to ramble on.  Nobody respects this dream of mine, to have a
cathedral truly built for the people to worship, instead of just a favored
few of the gentry.  How can people have faith if we deny them the holy
vision?"
     "You summoned me, Brother of the Thorns." Andrew reminded him.
     "Oh, yes."  Brother Edmegen straightened up.  "First, be certain that
none are lurking about outside, either the window or the door.
     Andrew obeyed.  "We are alone."
     "Now close the door and shutter the window."  The brother lit a candle
while Andrew complied.  "Now come closer."
     As Andrew bent close, Brother Edmegen whispered, "Did you know the
Archbishop has been exchanging a long correspondence with the Holy Roman
Emperor, Frederick III?"
     "I know the Archbishop wants the Church of Carlovain to rejoin the
Church at Rome." Andrew said.  "Perhaps that would be best for the people."
     "Perhaps." the brother agreed.  "If that was what the correspondence
was about."
     "I don't understand."
     "The Archbishop is seeking the Emperor's aid in having forces raised
against Carlovain.  The Holy Roman Empire may soon be marching against us."
     "But the Grand Duke of Burgundy wouldn't permit that." Andrew said.
Though the bitter foe of Carlovain, the Grand Duke would fight anyone
besides himself who attempted to annex Carlovain; he considered it a part
of his own duchy in rebellion.  His League of Public Weal had recently
permitted him to annex a large portion of France despite the efforts of the
French king, Louis XI, making Carlovain and its King very nervous, the very
reason he was now busily increasing the strength of his armies and adding
ships to his navy.
     "Grand Duke Charles is occupied with fighting the Swiss, and has been
attempting to ally his duchy with the Holy Roman Empire by arranging to
marry his daughter to the son of Emperor Frederick III."  Brother Edmegen
pointed out.  "England invaded France this last summer, although I hear
that King Louis XI has paid them a huge price to leave his shaken country
alone.  Who is left to oppose the Emperor's forces, for all that he has
been an incompetent in the field?"
     "Oh...yes, of course."  Andrew had kept up on politics around his
country, of course, it was a part of his duty as a nobleman, but so long as
they weren't intent on invading Carlovain, he'd felt only a passing
interest in the troubles of other countries.  But it seemed as if they had
gotten around to noticing his little country at last.
     "The Emperor has promised in exchange for his help in restoring the
Duchy of Heslov to his family.  And there are still nobles enough unhappy
at being unseated five years ago to try once more to raise swords against
our sovereign."
     Andrew shook his head; was there never to be an end to battle.  "Would
that the French had never invaded our land." he lamented.  "We have been
troubled ever since."
     "We have intercepted the most recent letter, the one which laid out
the entire plan." Brother Edmegen said.  "The courier chosen by the
Archbishop overheard words that made him understand the mischief planned,
and not knowing what else to do with religious correspondence, brought it
to us."
     "And so you sent for me." Andrew said.
     "Only you can keep these letters safe until they can be given to the
King's own hands.  We had to cut the seal to examine its contents, but it
has been left otherwise intact; he will be able to see it is the
Archbishop's own."
     Andrew thought it through.  "Then I must leave for Fediresta." he
said.
     Brother Edmegen smiled.  "I knew we could trust you on this.  We shall
arrange for companions on your travel to Fediresta, the lands are quite
unsafe these past years."
     "I know." Andrew said feelingly.
     "Now where did those attendants get off to?" Brother Edmegen said
petulantly.  He reached, found a bell on his side-table, rang it loudly.
"Brother Clovis, come in here at once!"
     A young man entered, wearing the robe of a novitiate.  "Yes, Brother
Edmegen?"
     "Show our guest to one of the brother's cells and look after his
needs." he said.  "He must not be forced to mingle with the rest of our
guests."
     Andrew followed the young acolyte and was shown to a small room,
bearing only a hard bed within, but he had slept for many years upon a bed
not much better, he could manage.
     The acolyte brought him a basin of water so that he could wash the
dust of the road from his body.  Andrew was glad of that, he gladly dipped
the rag into the water and began to run it over his face.
     He doffed his shirt and was working the rag over his shoulders when he
noticed the young acolyte was still there.
     "Would...would you like anything else, Sir Andrew?" the acolyte
stammered as he found himself being watched instead of watching.
     "Nothing, thank you." Andrew said.  But the acolyte didn't leave.
     "Sir Andrew?" he said after a time.
     "Yes?" Andrew made broad strokes on his chest with the cloth, and
noticed how the acolyte's eyes followed the cloth around and around,
hungrily.  He smiled.
     "Is it true that your family used to be...commoners?"
     Andrew smiled more broadly.  He saw no reason to dissemble.  "Yes,
during the rebellion of the nobles a few years ago, we served the King and
were rewarded with noble titles."
     "I didn't think that was allowed, sir." the acolyte blushed when he
realized his gaffe.  "I mean...I thought you couldn't be a duke unless you
were already of noble blood."
     "Yes, that is true in the other countries of Europe, and the reason
why there is so little respect for our own country's titles.  You must
remember that our King's ancestors five generations back were not so noble
themselves, and all of our nobles were merely the leaders of the army of
the Grand Duchy of Burgundy until they seized power and defied the Grand
Duke.  Before that, they were mostly younger sons who had no titles.  The
first King Phillippe gave them their titles, so they couldn't protest our
King giving my family the same, no matter how much it may have galled
them."  The actual truth was that Andrew and his family had still never
quite fit in with the rest of the nobility to this day, but there was no
reason to burden this young man with that information.
     "Oh." the acolyte said.
     "What of your own family?" Andrew asked.  "Are they of noble blood?"
     The young man stiffened.  "It is not considered important."  Then he
immediately answered the question just the same.  "My father was a bailiff
of the Duke of Bouillon, and I was his third son."
     "Ahh!" Andrew said and needed no further explanation.
     Younger sons were a problem for any family in the feudal system, which
only recognized the right to inherit of the eldest son; younger sons were
often left within the family and unmarried, or given their leave to find
their own way in life...becoming usually vagabonds or footpads...or if a
bit of money could be found to grease their passage, they were gotten rid
of by sending them into the holy orders .  Thus were many given the
religious cowl who had no love of the discipline and indeed could behave
most scandalously.  If Andrew had had a younger brother, he might well have
been placed here the same way this acolyte was, whether he would or no.
     "My elder brother has become the seneschal of the new Lord Bouillon."
the young novitiate said resentfully.  "My second brother became the
bailiff.  As for me...nothing but prayers and washing out people's sores
and lesions."
     "You do not like this life?"
     "It is unbearable!" the youth said with venom.  "Prayers are no
substitute for...."
     "For what?" Andrew asked.
     "For this!" and the young acolyte seized Andrew in his arms, pressed
his lips hastily against Andrew's own.  The kiss was ardent, rushed, and
ill-placed, it left spittle on Andrew's upper lip.
     When the acolyte released him, suddenly bashful, Andrew said, "Do the
brothers know you feel like this?"
     The man lowered his head and Andrew took the opportunity to quickly
wipe his face dry.  "May I stay this night with you?" he asked.  "I am to
serve you.  None need find out."
     Andrew thought about it.  What was the young man's name?  Clovis.
"Clovis," he started.  The young man raised his head.  "I would be honored
if you would stay with me."
     Again this rush of the hot young body towards him, and this time
Andrew was at least partly ready for it.  He grasped this young man and was
borne backwards onto the bed by the rushing force of this embrace.  He fell
with a grunted "oof!" and then laughed a mirth he did not feel, to set the
lad at ease in his ardor.
     But the youth needed no such encouragement, he was kissing Andrew,
hard!  Now it was Andrew's cheek that bore the almost bruising press of
lips, the inexpert arms that were determined to wrap his head within their
coils like a pair of constrictor snakes, Andrew kissed the tender ear, all
he could reach with his mouth, and ran his hands over the heavy woolen
robe.
     Clovis' breaths were a rasping roar in his ear, and Clovis was now
working on his neck and shoulder, trying to inflame Andrew with his own
fire, and indeed Andrew felt his own lust rise within him, less this young
man's attentions as the sheer unabashed desire that lay behind it all.  It
was rather like suffering the rough paws and soaking wet tongue of a large
dog intent upon lavishing his affection upon you in eager greeting, in this
same way was Clovis' simple raging hormones inciting Andrew's own.
     He was given no chance to show Clovis his own skills at lovemaking,
Clovis was like a maniac upon his body, astraddle him now, the wide robe
pressing against Andrew's stomach as Clovis' knees kept it tightly pinned
against him, like a bedsheet tucked too tightly, it was almost painful it
wrapped him so firmly.
     But Clovis was now clutching in that avid mouth Andrew's left breast,
he was sucking on it as if he could siphon out a stream of mother's milk
from it, Andrew groaned as his nipple was pulled by the vacuum into Clovis'
mouth, the tender flesh feeling pinched, plucked outwards by the sheer
force of suction.
     Andrew gasped out, "Ah, ah, gently, more gently, my young love.  You
would pull me into pieces with your furious attacks upon me."
     Clovis left his breast, though the heavily focused kisses upon
Andrew's body continued at their frenetic pace, Andrew felt his skin being
nearly ripped out in oval sections as that mouth caught and clutched and
wrenched him before passing on; it was like he was trying to pull pieces
from Andrew's body into his own.
     But if Andrew's skin rejected these lascivious advances from Clovis,
his cock was well content to be fished from his pants, brought free into
the cool air of the cell, and then, with only a brief taste of the sunlight
coming through the grilled window, it was thrust into the moist maw of
Clovis' mouth; Andrew felt that powerful suction cram his prick into
Clovis' throat, the tender skin of the back of the mouth giving way with
heedless abandon, Andrew's dong wasn't just being serviced here, it was
being bodily swallowed by Clovis' eager, debauched throat muscles, he could
feel the heavy pulsing motions as Clovis tried to gulp him down, and only
the base of his shaft prevented that from happening, Clovis could get him
no deeper, though he continued to try, Andrew's lower belly having Clovis'
nose jammed against it.
     "Ah, ah, ah!" Andrew grunted as Clovis gave up at last, and
surrendered a portion of his organ only to send it thrilling down his warm
interior once again.
     "Pray, turn around so that I may share in this." Andrew begged.
Again, no heed was paid to this, Clovis continued this one-sided assault
upon Andrew's manhood, sending his tumescent prong deeply into himself, and
releasing only enough to let him resume the attack once again.
     "Ah, ah, ah, AHHH! Enough!" Andrew groaned and grabbed Clovis' head
and yanked him upwards.  Andrew raised that face to meet his and looked
into eyes glazed over with desire.
     "I could help you enjoy this more if you were less...insistent."
Andrew pointed out.
     "I'm sorry." Clovis said and he crawled about, got his legs underneath
himself.
     Andrew let go of Clovis' head, expecting Clovis to break off this
insane drive upon his body, but Clovis merely gathered his robes up to his
waist, shuffled forward and Andrew felt his saliva-moistened dick brush
Clovis' buttocks.
     "Ah, gently, lad, if you have no experience in this...." Andrew began.
     But Clovis' buttocks had found his cockhead and they waffled to bring
it to the small opening at the bottom of the cleavage there, Andrew felt
his glans press against the tight sphincter muscles and then....
     Then Clovis began to shove Andrew's cock inside of himself!  The young
face was writhing in pain, but he didn't let up in the least.  Andrew felt
his balls boiling with the urgency this frantic young man was imparting to
him, his own cock seemed to take the spur of this rampant lust into itself,
he was rapidly climbing the height of his passion and finding it harder and
harder to stay the gentle intiating lover.
     "Clovis, I beg of you, cease this and let me give you a gentler
pleasure." Andrew said.
     But Clovis was not to be talked away from his course, he continued to
press Andrew's dong deeper and deeper into himself, Andrew felt this tight
anus clutching him like his cock was being tied up with soft ropes, tighter
in some places than others, and here and there the hot wetness of blood
touched Andrew's pud and told him of the high price Clovis was paying for
his willy-nilly self-initiation.
     Andrew could bear it no longer, he reached up and held Clovis still
while he rolled the two of them over; they nearly fell off the narrow bed
in his doing so, but Andrew ended up atop Clovis and though he had to rest
both feet on the floor, he managed now by brute force to make Clovis hold
still.
     "Let your body adjust to me, my eager one." He said chidingly.  "You
are hurting yourself for no reason here."
     "I thought there had to be pain the first time." Clovis said.
     "There is some." Andrew admitted.  "But a gentle and experienced lover
can ease this time for you.  Please, let me treat you gently."
     "Yes, Sir Andrew." Clovis gasped out.  "Only please, I beg of you, do
not take too long.  I can feel my body rising up, I shall burst out upon
you very soon!"
     Andrew held very still until Clovis' tender young bowels seemed to
release the overly tight grip they had held upon his cock, then he began to
push it gently into Clovis' bowels.
     And Clovis groaned, bucked about like a man possessed, Andrew felt the
raging power within this young frame.
     "Slower, my little one, slower." he cautioned.
     But Clovis caught Andrew tightly, his legs wrapped about Andrew's
thighs and he fucked himself upon Andrew's body by clutching himself the
more tightly to Andrew and thus sending Andrew's prong deeper into his
bowels.
     And suddenly Andrew as in the middle of a hurricane of young rut,
Clovis was groaning, he felt salty jism pouring from beneath this robe
which was getting soaked with Clovis' ejaculation, and thence the sperm
gushed back down around Clovis' shaft and thus poured upon Andrew's dong.
     Andrew surrendered then to this youth's gluttonous lusts, he had the
clutching bowels of a young man's climax to spur him on the more, his
impassioned prong gladly opened the door of orgasm for him and Andrew felt
his body wracked with the pleasure of climax, he jetted his wads into
Clovis' ecstatic bowels, and Clovis' face, all red and flushed with his
desire, turned on a radiant grin as he felt Andrew's prick squirting into
him; Clovis tossed his head in the aftershocks of adolescent rut, and when
Andrew was finished and fell gasping onto him, Clovis reached and promptly
clutched his lips against Andrew's once again, sucking the very life out of
him by refusing to let him use his mouth for air, forcing him instead to
wheeze in through his nostrils the essence of the air into his famished
lungs.
     Andrew did not resist this final ardent kiss, but when it was done, he
smiled and stroked that tender young face and brushed the hairs back from
the forehead with satisfied fingertips.
     "Have you given thought to how you'll live in this place?" He asked
Clovis after a time.
     Clovis turned serious.  "I have no choice." he admitted.  "Still, I
cannot be the only one in my position.  There is another, Brother Dision,
who has cast looks my way.  Our work has not yet let us be together here,
but that will change."
     Andrew smiled.  This young man would be sensible after all.  If the
monk in his service chose to spend his nights in the bed of one of his
fellows, who would be the wiser?  And even then, one of the many reasons
that the Church of Carlovain had schismed from the one at Rome was because
of the insanity of the rule of celibacy.  As if God, who had created all
things, could only be worshiped by one who forsook the most basic source of
human happiness.
     A monk brought a platter of food into the room.  These monk cells had
no locks upon them, there came a knock and then an immediate entrance
without waiting for permission.
     "I have brought you refreshment, my...Lord...."
     Andrew was surprised at the face confronting him.  He tried to rise,
but Clovis' body was still wrapped around him, and Clovis did not make a
move to rise up.
     This let the monk place the tray of food upon the floor and flee the
room before Andrew could so much as rise from his feet.
     "Do not worry." Clovis said as Andrew opened the door again and looked
down the hallway.  Nothing there.  "He is one of the kinder brothers.  I am
sure he will be discreet.  He is very understanding."
     "What is his name?" Andrew demanded.
     "Uh?" Clovis asked, astonished.
     "His name!  What is it?"
     "He...he is Brother Eserel." Clovis said.  "He joined the brotherhood
some two years ago, I am told."
     "Eserel." Andrew said, to remember the name.
     "Is something wrong?" Clovis asked, rising up.
     "No." Andrew said, smiled at Clovis.  "Nothing is wrong.
Would...would you go and get me some wine, if there is some available?"
The monk had brought in only fruit and water.
     "Yes, Sir Andrew." Clovis said and rose, pulled his robe back down and
smiled demurely.  "I shall be back soon."
     Andrew hardly noticed Clovis' departure.  "Eserel." he said again.
And again.  "Eserel."
     Now he knew Renaud's name as a Merlemagnist monk.

			  THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR