Date: Sun, 8 Aug 1999 15:12:25 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Squire.of.Carlovain.Chapter.12

			    SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN
				Chapter 12
		       "The Heart Has Its Own Songs"

     Heslov.  Andrew knew he had been born there, not far from the palace,
his birth tended by the King's own physician.  He knew that he had spent
his very youngest years on these streets and among these crowds, yet he had
no memory of it at all.
     Though Renaud had taken it slow, and broken their travel by yet
another night's rest not far from Heslov itself, Andrew was glad the travel
was over.  A wagon is better than a horse, but only barely.  He had been
nursed and protected by five French noblemen and their four servants, three
of whom were also French in ancestry, and felt less comfortable than ever
with his mission to thwart their hopeful schemes he listened to on the
trail.  Where was the right side here?  Were these young men to blame in
that their only hope to improve their lot lay in this betrayal?  Yet the
King was the rightful heir to the throne and had never done anything to
warrant their traitorous machinations.  Indeed, the King had been more than
kind to his people in many ways.  Yes, Andrew began to fervently hope to
find villainy, to discover evil incarnate waiting at the King's palace, in
the form of its current residents, and be reinvigorated in his efforts.
     Andrew was still feeling weak, but would not miss this, his first look
at a true town, rather than the small village not so near his family's inn.
That village, the inn, the nearby farmhouses, they had been his world
before his travels.  The town where they had been impressed by Count
Ratisbon's men had been fair-sized for Carlovain's agrarian society,
boasting nearly five hundred souls, but Heslov...Heslov's population
measured nearly sixty thousand.
     His eyes blurred upon occasion, remedied by a blink and shake of his
head, but the rest of the time, he looked.  Built upon the mainland near
Cape Nesrimee, the cape formed a large, natural harbor which protected the
ships at anchor from the worst parts of the storms the North Sea regularly
threw at them.  The town clustered in a lump of many buildings surrounded
by the protective wall built by Phillippe II so long ago, but the long
period of prosperity had caused many fishing villages to spread out along
both flanks to encircle half the cape (the latter half being mostly
composed of steep rocks, impassable and unusable save by boats, only a few
hearty or foolhardy souls had built houses out there).
     Andrew saw whiteness upon every house face, and saw the sea for the
first time, turquoise blue against the sky bleached near-white by the glare
of the noonday sun.  Clean and orderly, as befit a town of the Neresterii
people, its streets were cleansed by a small army of sweepers maintained by
the Heslov City Council and the taxes it levied on the town, its alleys
policed by the city guard, even the rats and mice kept at bay by the squads
of cats and dogs, not strays, but actual property of the city.  Because of
this mania for cleanliness, Heslov had missed the Black Death which had
swept Europe in the century before, so the town Andrew saw was bright,
healthy and prosperity dripped from its very rafters.  The road they were
on was broad and their wagon but one of several traveling in both
directions, as well as a good many soldiers, for this was to be the rebel's
very stronghold and heart of their plot to overtake the rest of Carlovain,
while the loyalists looked northwards to Tiresval and the legendary
Neresterii castle there.
     "Where is the palace?" Andrew asked Renaud, after looking for it in
vain as they wended their way down the final path.  Now he could see the
people on the streets, many, many people, more than he had ever imagined
save arrayed in ranks for an army.
     "You've never seen it?" Renaud asked.
     "Nay." Andrew said, getting to his knees and holding onto the side of
the wagon.
     "Steady, now, kaserin, you must remember your weakness." Renaud said.
     "I have mended well under this pleasant journey and your kind care."
Andrew smiled at Renaud.  "And forgive my eagerness to see new and strange
things."
     "That is understandable." Renaud said.  "Well, the King's palace is to
the east of Heslov, atop the hill."
     "That house?" Andrew asked.  He saw there on the hill a large white
house with several smaller buildings around it, but nothing more.  "I
expected a wall and...and moat and towers."
     "The King's palace is a residence for times of peace.  It would be
abandoned should an army approach, but the rest of the time, the King
depends upon his guards to protect him."
     "You mean the Lord Protector." one of the young nobles, who was riding
nearby, chided him.  "Are you going loyalist on us, Renaud?"
     "The old words die hard, Marcel." Renaud admitted.  "And the new words
have not yet found a comfortable home in my breast."
     "Then you should make haste to evict the old and give the new proper
residence, for such a slip in the days ahead could well cost you dearly."
Marcel warned him.  "Are we not going through the town?" Andrew noticed
them taking a curving road that circled outside the walls.
     "This is the path to the palace." Renaud said.  "We shall find excuse
to enter Heslov when we are rested from this travel and you are stronger."
     "Very well." Andrew moved and rested his back against the opposite
wall of the wagon, and from there he could see the walls.  Built sturdily
some seventy-five years earlier, the peaceful times since had permitted
many vines to climb them, and indeed the flowering abundance of them
suggested that many vines had been purposefully planted.  Heslov had indeed
been long at peace to permit such easy access by an army over its walls.
Such vines would have to be burned well before an enemy approached, he
mused.
     But it made a beautiful sight.  "I think the Heavenly City must look
much like this." Andrew sighed as Renaud settled next to him.
     He watched as Renaud's arm went around him and made him a pillow, and
the walls dimmed and faded into pleasant dreams.
     "Ho, we're near the palace." Renaud whispered to him a time later, and
Andrew started, looked.  Only sky greeted his eyes, and he rose up and now
saw the royal gardens which had been described to him by his father.  Not a
crowding of flowers, there were many open spaces of grass kept watered and
green by servants plying their care even now.  In another place, a group of
brightly-dressed men had gathered for some purpose Andrew couldn't ken from
this distance; it seemed to be a meeting rather than play.  In yet another
place on these broad acres, three pairs of young men jousted with their
swords, obviously practicing, not dueling.
     "I was not aware I had fallen asleep." admitted Andrew.
     "Your body will need more sleep until it has restored your blood."
Renaud said.
     "Aye." Marcel said to them.  He seemed to be hovering near Renaud and
had been close by ever since the river.  He was a good-looking young man,
his major flaw being that his face was narrow and elongated somewhat, as if
his entire face had been caught in his infancy and pulled forwards from the
bridge of his nose to his chin.  This spoiled the otherwise quite handsome
cheekbones, the bulbous but well-shaped nose, the eyes were clear blue and
hair was fine and a very light-brown, the color of dried grasses.  "You
lost a good deal, the bank was splattered in diverse places from that gash
on your arm.  You earned all our respect on that river, whatever the cost
may have been for you."
     Andrew flexed his arm experimentally.  "It pains me still a little,
but I think I shall be restored ere long."
     "We shall commend you to the Lord Protector." Marcel said.  "Francois
has gone ahead to ask for quarters for us wherein we may refresh ourselves
before we pay court."
     They ended up behind the castle, among a row of several long, low
buildings.  "These were the quarters of the Royal Guardsmen." Francois
explained to them all.  "They abandoned Heslov to a man when the King fled,
so we are using their quarters freely.  They consist not of large single
rooms, but many small apartments, so it will serve us all well.  They even
have a small yard behind each, and most of those appear to have vegetable
gardens all planted and flowering."
     "May the day not come soon when they try to reclaim them." Renaud
said.
     "At least not before we harvest their labors." Marcel laughed.  "Now
that summer is upon us, the most of the work has been done."
     "The yards also have areas of hard ground for practicing the art of
the sword." Francois finished with an air of authority.
     "We should use that space as well." Renaud agreed.
     Renaud refused to let Andrew help with the unloading of their
possessions.  Andrew took only his small bag holding his few clothes inside
and went in, knowing from his father's talks what he'd find inside.
     A main room holding small tables and chairs, with two bedrooms along
the left-hand side.  These bedrooms were not totally enclosed, but a wall
separated them and hooks would let a cloth be hung to give privacy if not
protection.  Along the right-hand side were large cupboards, four in all,
two on each side of a small fireplace.  At the other end of the room was
another door, which led into the garden, which led in turn to a latrine at
the far end of the small garden and exercise area.  The entire inner area
of each apartment was perhaps twenty feet square.
     "I'm told they quartered here four to an apartment." Renaud said, and
frowned.  "But why then only two beds?"
     "Guardsmen always traveled in pairs." Andrew said to him.  "And slept
the same way.  Is this a problem for you?"
     "Only that we will be quartered here by fours as well." Renaud said.
"Marcel and his servant will also be living here.  I expected four beds."
     "We shall manage." Andrew said.  "You had planned for us to share.  So
Marcel will have to work out his own arrangement with his servant."  He
grinned impishly.  "Perhaps the same arrangement as we?"
     Renaud laughed, for Marcel's servant was an elderly, stoutish fellow
with a mottled, pock-marked face and a semi-sneering, semi-sniveling
attitude.  It was more as if his parents wanted to be rid of this obnoxious
servant rather than see to their son's comfort, for he was a slovenly and
inept servant to add to his physical liabilities.  "We shall leave Marcel
to his own devices." Renaud agreed.  "Now, I wish you to lie down and rest
again.  I found that ride tiring, and you must have found it the more so."
     "I could sleep." Andrew admitted.  He had been sleepy ever since the
combat, and while a wagon in motion was hardly conducive to deep slumber,
he had still slept more than been awake the past few days.
     "I shall find us food and water for cleaning ourselves." Renaud said.
     Andrew went to the bed, silently begged the pardon of the absent
Guardsmen to whom it properly belonged, and lay down, and felt the darkness
welcoming him yet again.
     "He is in here." came Marcel's voice after a time.
     Andrew rose up as the two men entered.
     "I came upon the Lord Protector's physician." Marcel explained.  "And
told him of you.  He wishes to examine your wounds."
     Marcel helped Andrew pull off the tunic and the physician checked
first the wound on Andrew's back.  "I see you cleansed the wounds before
dressing.  Very good." the physician said.  "Dirt carries fever inside it.
Only a lancing will be needed here."  The physician brought forth a small
knife and Andrew felt him knicking a spot on his back, and then moisture.
"Ah, there's the poison coming out." he said as Andrew felt his back pain
seethe anew.  What was this old fool doing?
     The physician let the wound drain while he wiped at Andrew's back near
the wound with a damp cloth, then said, "Bring me those clean bandages."
His back wound was dressed and held in place by some sort of glue-covered
cloth the physician slapped on top of it.
     "Now for the right arm.  I'm told an artery was opened there."
     "He bled freely from there."  Marcel informed him.
     "Good, blood washes out the poisons and reduces fevers." the physician
said happily.
     "But he sleeps much and is weak and languid." Marcel protested.
     "A mere resting of the body after a great battle." the physician
dismissed it.  "He will regain his vigor in a few days' time."
     Andrew was able to watch as the physician opened the bandage on his
right arm.  A large, angry gash was there, crusted with scab, and blood
came forth at one point.
     "Good, it is healing." the physician said.  "You'll have a scar here
for certain, but nothing you can't show off and brag about."  He washed
around it as well, and more blood was oozing out before he was done.  "The
blood flows but does not spray, this means the artery has closed of
itself." the physician said.  "When I heard, I thought I might have to sew
you together again, and there'd be no avoiding fevers at that.  You're
really not badly hurt at all."
     "I am pleased to hear that." Andrew said.
     The physician tended to Andrew's right arm the same way, cleansing the
flesh and replacing the bandage.  Andrew saw now some odd mixture on the
cloth, wondered what it was.  Something to draw out the swelling, he
guessed, his back was beginning to burn slightly from the new dressing as
if a drawing potion had been applied.
     The left arm received the same treatment, though Andrew would not have
himself bothered with covering the wound after he saw it, a mere cut and
nothing more.
     Done, the physician said, "Now, young man, you'll want to sleep a
great deal for the next few days, and you should as much as your duties
will permit it.  If you still find yourself languishing after three days'
time, or if you have fever or these wounds begin to pain you, seek me out
again.  Until then, don't remove the bandages and don't get them wet or
soiled.  If you do, you can replace them yourself, but be careful about
it."
     "Thank you, sir." Andrew said.
     "Now take that bathing basin in the main room and get this young man a
bath." the physician said to Marcel.  "He is covered with the dust of the
road, as are you."
     "I shall do so." Marcel said.
     Andrew would have protested politely that he could fetch the water
himself, but they were gone before he could form the words.  He felt tired
again and lay back on the bed instead.  A curious sense of timelessness had
pervaded his thoughts these past days.  He would open his eyes and find
hours had passed rather than minutes.  Yes, the physician was right, he
needed sleep.  Perhaps after the bath....
     He awoke again to the sounds of water being poured.  "Thank you."
Marcel said and came into Andrew's room once again.  "We've heated you a
bath." he said.
     "I am grateful." Andrew rose.  He had fallen asleep again.  "Where
is...my Master?" he asked.
     Marcel smiled.  "Your 'kaserin' has been captured by his grandmother
who is introducing him to the more influential members of the court.  It
seems our Lord Protector does not believe in shutting the womenfolk away,
and she is taking full liberty with that fact to get him insinuated into
the Lords' good graces.  Would that she did the same for her son, who is
out at one of the taverns in town."
     "And your servant?" Andrew asked as he stepped out.  They were alone
in their little apartment.
     "I haven't seen him since we arrived near Heslov." Marcel shrugged.
"He said he was going to get us supplies, but the scoundrel took his
belongings with him on the ass along with six of my gold pieces to purchase
the provisions.  I wouldn't be surprised but that he has left my employ.
No great loss, you will agree."
     "Only in that it leaves you without a servant, and I shall be a poor
one for a few days, it seems." Andrew said.  "I must bestir myself and tend
to you both until you find another."
     "You shall rest for the three days the physician ordered.  I have
spoken with Renaud, and he has agreed.  We are not as helpless as you may
think, for all the servants we keep around us for show."
     "Have you bathed?"
     "I shall do so when you are done." Marcel said.  "And I shall take
care of your bath myself, with both your forearms in bandages.  You are to
lie in the bath and let me do the work."
     Everyone seemed to want to bathe him or watch him bathe, Andrew
thought bemusedly as he untied his tights.  Poor lost Cedril, Renaud and
now Marcel.  Even the King had interrupted him at his ablutions at the
stable.  Was he never to wash himself in solitude and peace again?
     Yet it was true that this time he needed aid in the bath, Marcel was
right that he'd never be able to keep the bandages dry as ordered unless
another wielded the bath sponge.
     Marcel steadied him as he stepped into the bath, and Andrew had to
admit he would have stumbled had it not been for his stabilizing arms.
Andrew sank down into the tub, enjoying the warmth of the water that had
been drawn for him.  No cold bath this, it was heated above room
temperature, as if for a grand lady or elderly lord.  Or an invalid as
himself.
     Marcel made no effort to wash his hair, other than running some water
over it.  Andrew enjoyed the warmth of the water, the firm hands playing
over his body, and sank once again into lassitude.  He hardly noticed as he
was pressed forward to let Marcel wash his back with long, strong, straight
motions, the sponge wrung free of excess water to dab at his shoulder above
the wound on his back, then laid back to have his chest scrubbed more
confidently and liberally, and again the sponge, when dry from this, moved
onto his arms to cleanse them as well.  Andrew was well on his path to
slumber when the time came to wash his lower body and legs, and he scarcely
noticed the touches there, even when his cock and balls were carefully
scrubbed by Marcel's inept but caring hands.
     "We are done.  Now, hold onto me as I stand you up." Marcel said and
Andrew snapped his eyes wide.  Again, this sense of timelessness.  But only
a moment or so had passed this time.
     Andrew stood as Marcel dabbed him dry with the towel, and then helped
him by permitting a hand on his back as he dried the foot and lower leg,
then let him step out of the tub onto the stone floor, and then dried the
other in this way.  Andrew noticed that Marcel was now bare to the waist,
wearing only his tights, understandable as his arms had been covered in
water.  His chest bore but a dusting of hair, his muscles were like
Renaud's, well-formed but not nearly as massive as his own.
     "Now you must lie down again and sleep some more." Marcel said.  "I
shall take my own shower and lie down for a nap, I think.  The days are
getting so hot that it is useless to plan anything for this afternoon."
     "I am grateful for your aid." Andrew said blearily, only seeing the
bed.  He stretched out on it as he was, still nude, and was again lost in
the dusky, timeless world beneath his eyelids, and the liquid sounds of
Marcel in his bath were like the gurgles of some fountain off in the
distance.
     He felt as if he were adrift on some quiet river, that this
not-very-soft mattress was a raft of planks and he was drifting along,
lying back and watching the stars at night.  Strands of water reeds brushed
his legs, for now he was floating through them, and they stroked his thighs
with a lover's caress.  Gently, they touched his body with warm
languidness, until he sighed and his cock surged to life, and the reeds
sighed in happiness at this joining of them in such likeness, a fleshly
reed among them, and they reached out to touch him there.
     Now the raft was caught in these reeds, and they were taller now, and
touching his body everywhere, dipping down to kiss him with flowers that
were filled with nectar, and there was the hissing breath of the wind that
stirred them, catching and then expelling sighs.
     Now the reeds had wrapped around his penis entire, and the wind
whipped them with warmth surging against his balls and the reeds massaged
him, stroked him and he groaned in the utter bliss of this bucolic dream,
sighing his appreciation, whispered, "Yes, pray, take your pleasure there."
     "I thank thee." sighed the reeds, and it was in a man's voice
whispering to him, and now the flowers clustered there and surrounded his
prong firmly while one of them capped his cock and proceeded to force it
down into its bell-shaped cup, and the pistil there was lapping at him
hungrily.
     "Ah, ah!" Andrew sighed, and he heard the man's voice again, louder,
groaning.
     "Mrph!"
     And the mouth slavered onto him, and coated his cock with warm liquid
effusion that dribbled down onto his balls.
     Andrew opened his eyes and realized that this was no longer a dream.
He looked down and found that he had indeed been captured by a man's mouth,
and the mouth belonged to Marcel, who had joined him in his bed and was now
slurping on him with the total abandon that only comes with...had he spoken
aloud his permission?  He had!
     "Ah!" Andrew said, and Marcel shifted on the bed.  He was turned with
his feet to Andrew, his knees chock-a-block against the wall, and with the
shifting he presented his own pud for Andrew's ministrations.
     Andrew hesitated, unsure of the right thing to do.  Had he committed
to Renaud?  Renaud had committed to him, but was that the same thing?
Kaserin were often lovers, but were they exclusively lovers?  The old tales
hadn't been specific on this!
     The King had advised him some days ago, to enjoy his life now and not
commit to any one man.  He would have to speak to Renaud about this, and
quickly, but....
     He scooted over and touched his tongue to the slender prong presented.
Perhaps nine inches long, it was cleanly looking and smoothly unveined, the
cockhead like Marcel's face was elongated to a nearly pointed tip smeared
by the slit.  The foreskin was clinging tightly to it, so tightly that it
appeared it would not relinquish the head at all.
     Marcel groaned and Andrew worked up his saliva and forced the cockhead
deeper into his throat.  He was dizzy, between the sensations at his crotch
and the heady smell of Marcel, freshly washed but only with water, so that
there remained but the slightest scent of his musky crotch, unfettered by
soap's nearly rancid-fat aroma.  Only sheer masculine redolence wafted into
his nostrils, awakening the animal rut that lurked within, and spurred on
by the warm tingling waves of excitation that crept from his cock down into
his abdomen and crawled upwards to his brain!
     Marcel rolled onto him as he pulled Andrew's legs downwards, and
Andrew felt the sharp bite of his back wound from this tug, a pain that was
intense as he was moved, but subsided and vanished when the movement was
over.  Marcel immediately dove back onto his cock and now, unimpeded by the
awkwardness of lying side-by-side, he shoved Andrew's prick deep into
himself and there he held it while he swirled his tongue back and forth,
driving sensations out of Andrew's cock the way a hand may send flies into
helter-skelter flight in all directions, in this way Andrew's lust sought
refuge all over his body, and rejoining at last into his brain where they
buzzed happily.
     Marcel gave him no opportunity to return this lustful attack, but with
a rapid hunch of his hips sent his cock into Andrew's mouth and throat,
driving it into him without heed.  Gone was the tender ministrations, now
Marcel was in need and Andrew's mouth was expected to provide the release,
and right now!  Andrew gurgled, released his throat muscles into flaccid
acquiescence, and Marcel's travels into his body was unimpaired, Andrew
working only his lips to cling tightly as he withdrew, releasing to let him
plunge in again, and Marcel's cock heated up rapidly in response.
     Marcel was frenetically working both ends of his body at once, pumping
back and forth like a see-saw, releasing Andrew's cock as he plunged his
own pud into Andrew's throat, then pulling out as he dove back onto Andrew
once again, so that Andrew was alternately serviced and serving, either
full of cock or groaning from the feel of his own prod tightly within
Marcel's seething maw.
     Andrew's cock marshaled its forces, his balls rose up like twin
squires to be ready to assist, and when Marcel dove down onto his prick,
Andrew exploded at just that moment, orgasm grabbing him quickly, like a
thief in the night, as unexpected as the stab in his back he'd suffered
during the fight, but this was not pain, this was the reverse of pain, this
was ecstasy, this was climax, this was the bursting forth of his very
essence into the hot moistness of Marcel's clutching lips, to pepper his
tongue with packets of boiling seed and inundate this warm space, fill it
to the brink with his own seed, his own existence, his own soul!
     Marcel had been prepared, it seems, for he was able to gulp down the
virulent seed as it boiled out of Andrew, drink it as fast as it was
presented to him from Andrew's man-spout, and he drank it as eagerly as
though this was wine of the finest quality.
     Done, he returned to his thrusts into Andrew's mouth, but now he kept
Andrew's still- hard-but-softening prick in his mouth, suckling the last
dregs of salty liquor out of him, while Marcel's long prong probed
downwards deeply.  Finally, Marcel choked, groaned, released Andrew's
now-flaccid pud and moaned lustily as he pumped his jism into Andrew, and
Andrew drank as quickly as he could, sputtering as he had at the wine
proffered by Renaud after the battle, drawing the sheer animal strength out
of Marcel and taking it for his own.
     Done, Andrew released himself along with Marcel and as Marcel got up,
Andrew found oblivion reaching for him with a quick, rough grasp....
     It was darkness when he awoke again.  This time, it was the smell of
warm food stretching beckoning fingers over to him, and he realized he had
eaten nothing since breakfast.
     "Welcome back." Marcel said to him.  "They have brought us some food,
including some beef broth for you especial.  The physician said you need
plenty of energy and animal meat to help you rebuild your blood."
     "I could use rebuilding." Andrew said and arose.
     "You had best dress." Marcel warned him.  "I have heard female voices
nearby and while I have shut the door, we know not who may come calling."
     Andrew found his peasant clothing and pulled that on, decided to
invest some of his coins in more clothes, as he had only the pair, dress
uniform and common attire.  He would need more, if he was to frequent the
royal halls in anything but as an occasional servant, and his needs were
greater than that.
     He ate and felt invigorated, and managed to speak a time with Marcel.
He learned that Marcel's fate was similar to Renaud's, no large surprise,
save that his father had even less land than Renaud's family.  His father
was the Marquis of Lesleran, one of the most northern of the French-held
lands, but bordering upon the Count's domain.  He was further cursed in
that he was fourth of eight brothers (and ten sisters!), so he had barely
dodged a forced life as a cleric.
     Marcel, too, spoke longingly of Cederel, and when Andrew gently
reminded him of Renaud's interest in the same piece of land, shrugged and
said, "Well, there are the Neresterii lands northwards as well.  We may
count that none of them will come to Montaigne's side, so we may expect
there to be a sufficiency of land after we have won.  If I were Montaigne,
I would cede only such lands while keeping all of the King's lands for
myself.  So I think neither of us will end up with Cederel for all of
Renaud's hopes."
     "If we win." Andrew said gently.
     "Aye, there is that." Marcel agreed without much sign of worry.  "But
when you start with nothing, there is naught to lose, so we can only gain,
and if we do lose, why, if we avoid being executed then we will seek out
another land where we may be more fortunate.  The Holy Roman Empire is in
turmoil as always, we may perhaps make our way to Lombardy and try our hand
among the turbulent Italian city-states there.  Venice, or Genoa, perhaps."
     "And if you win?"
     Marcel looked abashed.  "I have hopes for you and Renaud beyond the
call of land for my own." he admitted.  "Tell me, has Renaud spoken to you
of me?"
     "Not to my knowledge, for we have had little time together as yet."
     "Would you...would you ask him of me when you have the time?"
     "I can." Andrew said cautiously.
     Marcel smiled.  "I am glad.  If only one of us can gain to land, then
I would have it be that we two join to care for that land.  You can be
captain of our house guard.  And the three of us, perhaps...."  Marcel
shrugged and concentrated on his food.
     Andrew looked at Marcel, nonplused.  He had noticed that Marcel had
been hanging close to them the past few days, perhaps closer to Renaud even
longer, but...  "Have you spoken to Renaud about this...plan of yours?"
     "Not yet.  It is far too soon.  But after all, the heart has its own
songs, to which the mind can only listen in awe."
     "And...this song is about Renaud?" Andrew said.
     "Yes." Marcel said.  He looked at Andrew keenly.  "I am not blind, I
see the way he looks at you.  But I have seen frowns on your face when you
look at Renaud.  Am I wrong that perhaps the love he feels for you is not
reciprocated as strongly?  I mean, when I touched you, you did not fight me
off, you will remember.  Do you not care for him, maybe?"
     "It's not that, exactly." Andrew thought furiously, decided on half
the truth rather than a lie.  "It's just that we have only just met, and I
am to somehow supposed to be madly in love with him in that short a time.
And I have other problems to consider."
     "And you are not?" Marcel asked.  "Madly in love with him?"
     "I don't know." Andrew admitted.
     "Then I have a chance." Marcel declared.
     Andrew looked at him.  "Yes, I guess you do."
     "Magnificent.  And may the best man win.  Ah, but why must there be a
loser?  You are a brave comrade, and I would happily share my life with you
as well.  The animals may have walked onto the Ark in twos, but man is not
an animal.  We can be...civilized about this, at least.  A little
menage-a-trois, a home for two-plus-one?"
     "I agree." Andrew said, realized that it was getting dark.  "Where is
Renaud?"
     "Still with his grandmother, I suppose." Marcel said.  "I shall seek
him out.  You should sleep more, mignon of my intended."  And with that
startling salutation, Marcel rose and went in the direction of the palace.
     Andrew stood and realized that, while he felt better, the bed did seem
like the best place to be right now.  He would need to get better very
soon, he decided as he moved to the bed and, hanging the curtain, undressed
and got in.
     "The heart has its own songs," Marcel had said, and Andrew had to
agree.  But what was his own heart singing here?  If he truly wanted
Renaud, he had best move fast!  Marcel had no such doubts, and would take
his every opportunity.
     Well, he was a soldier first, the squire to the King.  And if Renaud
were to find his love in another man's arms, that could only be to the
best.  It would make their parting much easier, if he were to leave in
exile with someone like Marcel.
     He'd let Renaud make his own decisions, he decided.  And with that, he
went to sleep.
     Some time later, he awoke.  Marcel had returned with Renaud.  Renaud
was talking, and Andrew who had grown up in an inn knew well the slurring
of his speech.  He got up and went to the main room after pulling on his
pants.  Renaud had passed out and was seated on one of the chairs, lying
with his head down on the table.  Marcel was standing nearby.
     "Oh, merde, Andrew, you should be resting." Marcel said, looking up.
"I can care for this lout well enough.  Return to your bed!"
     "What happened?"
     "Renaud was busily making contacts among the nobility.  In fact, he
made so many contacts that he forgot to count his drinks." Marcel said.  "I
was there for a while, and he was busily telling of your exploits during
the battle with those highwaymen.  From what I can gather, either not
everything he said was the truth, or the two of you are something more than
human when wielding a blade."
     "Oh." Andrew said.  "We'd best get him to bed, then, and let him sleep
it off."
     "You return to your bed." Marcel said.  "He will be needing care
during the night and you are not in any condition to give it.  He can share
my bed, since that lout of a servant of mine has not yet come in, may he be
found lying drowned in the harbor.  No, he'll be sick and then he'll be
thrashing about and then he'll be sick again, not to mention fevers and
chills, perhaps.  You go to bed and I'll endure this sotted wretch alone."
     "Very well." Andrew went back to bed.  He slept fitfully, being
surfeited with sleep for the time and constantly buffeted by strange
noises, mostly that of Renaud being ill and Marcel playing nursemaid,
muttering to him in quiet phrases.  Finally, they seemed to quiet down and
Andrew went to sleep.
     He awakened again in the small hours of the dawn, the light barely
coming in the room from the doors left open to admit the cooling night air.
     "Ah, my little mignon." Renaud was saying.  "Yes, my little mignon,
you are the very best.  That is enough, now on your back and raise your
legs for me."
     Andrew looked around, but Renaud was not in his bed.
     "Ah, ah, gently!" Marcel begged of him.  "I cannot...you are so
large...ah, ah, ah!"
     "Yes, my little mignon." Renaud babbled out.  "You are such a hungry
lover, I am so glad you were selected for me."
     "As am I." Marcel said.  "Now, my big, potent stud, please take your
pleasure but be gentle with me, I pray!  Ah, ah, ah-hagh!"  Marcel made
choking-pained sounds for some time thereafter, no doubt because Renaud was
drunkenly humping away at his apparently-virginal ass.
     They settled down to less identifiable sounds and movements, mere
scratching, snuffling sounds in the night, and Andrew turned onto his side
and thought about this.  Marcel was out to take Renaud from him, and using
even Renaud's intoxication to begin the plot.  Renaud obviously thought he
had Andrew in bed with him.  Should he go over and stop this now?
     Well, should he?  And have Marcel throw back in his face their own
actions of the afternoon?  He could, you know.
     Well, Renaud would react the way he would when he learned of his error
later on.  Let the chips fall as they may, and Marcel can take the
consequences on his own.  If any.
     "Ah, ah, ah-hah!" Renaud called out.
     "Yes, yes, ah, ah, ah!" Marcel sang in a chorus of lust at the same
moment.  Some labored breathing sounds, and silence once again.
     Andrew smirked.  He had wished that morning for a more clear enemy at
the palace.  Well, here was Marcel, who was out to steal his new erstwhile
lover away from him and willing to take advantage of his weakness and
Renaud's drunken state to do it.  His first real enemy.
     And he didn't know whether he'd rather win or lose!

			     END OF CHAPTER 12