Chapter 4


Brian had been awake some little while. The candles had long since extinguished and only now as the dawn sky lightened, could he see once more Justin's form lying beside him. Caught in the golden light streaming in through the window, he looked so young, innocent and very beautiful. Lying on his side, his breathing was quiet and rhythmic and his face peaceful. So peaceful that Brian didn't have the heart to waken him, so exhausted he must be after their lovemaking: lovemaking that went on long into the night. 

Though endearingly inexperienced, Justin had been eager to learn and Brian more than willing to teach him. He had explored him with his eyes, his hands and his mouth and Justin had opened himself up totally. Giving Brian full access to his body, his heart, and his very soul. 

In turn, Brian had encouraged Justin to do the same. Though shy and embarrassed at first, Justin quickly felt at ease in his presence. With Brian's guidance and soft words of encouragement, he soon learned how to bring both of them pleasure; Brian showing him how to stroke, how to caress, where to use light feathery touches and where to apply gentle pressure. Sensations of pleasure, more wonderful than Justin could ever have imagined. 

Brian lent over and kissed him on the shoulder.  Justin murmured and rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. "I'm sorry", said Brian. "I hadn't meant to wake you".  Justin reached up and placed his hand on Brian's cheek. "No matter", he said. "I'm glad you stayed. I would have hated to wake up and find you gone-um-after last night", he stuttered, suddenly embarrassed in the cold light of day, lying as he was, naked by Brian's side.  He dropped his gaze, pulling the covers around himself. 

Brian smiled. Not wanting the young man to see that he'd noticed his discomfort, he exclaimed, "Come - let us go and find some breakfast. I'm starving!"  Getting off the bed, Brian quickly dressed and went down to the kitchens. 

For a moment, Justin hesitated. He was glad Brian had left the room; it gave him time to gather his thoughts together about what had happened the previous night. The memory of Brian's touch sent shivers through his entire body. He remembered how he had shown him where to touch, where to kiss and where to use his tongue in order to extract the most pleasure. 

Brian had reached down to his very core and he'd allowed Brian to fill him completely. He'd given himself entirely and yet, when Justin tried to reciprocate, he'd felt Brian was holding something back, not willing to give of himself completely - not in the same way Justin had. 

Once dressed, Justin went in search of Brian and found an annoyed if rather amused cook hovering around the door to the kitchens. Mistress Andrews had been employed at the castle since before Justin was born and this was her domain. 

"Master Justin!" she exclaimed, addressing him as she had always done, completely dismissing the fact that he was now the new Lord. "Young Master Brian has taken over the kitchen and told me to go and put my feet up". Justin laughed. He could well remember many a time as children when both he and Brian had sneaked into the kitchen in order to sample the cakes and pastries prepared there. "My, it's good to have him back", she said smiling. 

Justin took her arm and gently propelled her down the corridor. "Then Mistress", he said, "You had better do as he asks" and sent her on her way, muttering as she went as to what on earth was she supposed to do for the morning if she couldn't get into her kitchen. 

Justin went inside.  "What on earth are you doing?" he asked. "We have a cook and servants to prepare us meals". He moved across the room to where Brian was cooking some eggs in a pan over the fire. He had found the side of bacon and had carved off thick slices, which were already sizzling away. 

Brian laughed. "In the crusades, we didn't always have servants at our beck and call", he said. "I'll have you know I am quite adept in the use of a skillet!" deftly turning out onto a plate, two beautifully cooked eggs, to which he added the bacon, along with chunks of fresh bread and pats of butter. Pouring out some fresh milk, he invited Justin to sit and eat. 

They ate in silence. Neither of them it seemed wanting to break the comfortable quietness they were enjoying. When they had almost finished, Justin asked "Tell me about them, the Crusades". "I already have", answered Brian, hoping Justin wouldn't continue questioning him about those times. 

"You've told me romantic stories about wonderful adventures you and my Father experienced", said Justin. "But that isn't how it really was, is it?" The last sentence more of a statement of fact than a question asked. 

Brian sighed and put down his knife and fork. "What is it you want me to tell you?" he asked. 

"The truth" replied Justin. 

Brian looked at him and Justin saw it there again, deep hurt and sadness and memories of painful times. Times it seemed he wasn't being allowed to forget. 

Brian reached for the last of the milk and took a long swallow, thinking about what he was going to tell him. Maybe it was time for the truth. Justin was now a man, not a boy still in need of protection from the world's cruelty. 

"I'm not sure you have the stomach to hear it, nor I the stomach to tell you," he said. 

Justin moved his stool nearer to Brian and placed a hand on his arm. "Whatever it is, let me share it with you. I'm not a child, Brian. Please don't continue to treat me like one". 

So Brian told him. Told him of the countless battles in many small towns and villages. Of the men who had met cruel, painful deaths, either by the hands of the enemy or whose strength ebbed away under fiercely hot skies, with no water, no shelter from the heat of day, nor protection from the cold of night. 

He told him also of the women and children that had sometimes been caught in the middle of such terrible conflicts. Their bodies broken and torn: killed by the sword or trampled by their horses. 

And he told Justin of the men he himself had killed in battle. Men killed sometimes at close quarters, where he had seen the fear in their eyes when they had known they were dying. Men, who even now, still haunted his sleep, not allowing him any peace. 

Brian's voice was quavering and Justin could see he was close to tears. But there was still one question he had to ask. Whatever the cost might be to Brian. 

"What about my Father?" whispered Justin.  Fighting to maintain control, Brian told him how having joined forces, he, the Duke and their men had been ambushed. Realising Brian and the Duke were noblemen, they had been allowed to live and had been imprisoned, their captors hoping to make use of them at a future date. However, their men had been slain in front of them. 

Brian told how he had gone to the Duke’s aid when he had been pulled from his horse. How he himself and been caught by an attacker’s blade in trying to defend Justin’s Father. But the Duke had been mortally wounded and after they had been thrown into a cellar, the Duke had fallen into a raging fever. 

With no medical assistance, no drugs to ease his pain, without even any fresh water, all Brian could do was embrace him, to try and prevent him hurting himself further, until eventually, as the fever took it's toll, his thrashings ceased. No longer could he speak and lost all control. 

The Duke died pitifully in Brian's arms, with Brian's last, but unheard promise to him, that he would somehow return home and protect the Duke's family. 

In a desperate bid for freedom, Brian himself had feigned death. His captors threw his body unceremoniously into the back of a wagon to be taken for burial. Once outside the city walls, it had taken all the strength Brian could muster to overpower the solitary guard and make his escape. 

He travelled for two days on foot, without shelter, food or water before happening, purely by chance, and totally exhausted, upon a small band of Knights.  Fellow countrymen who sickened by the bloodshed and the futility of their task had decided to abandon their quest and return home. They welcomed Brian, dressed his wounds and allowed him to accompany them back to England. 

Justin tried to place his arm around Brian's shoulders: overwhelmed as he was by the truth that he had demanded from him. But Brian stood up and walked away, turning his back on him, not wanting to allow Justin to see how close to breaking point he really was. 

Justin walked up behind Brian and, slipping his arm around his waist, he turned him to face him. Gently, he reached up on tiptoes, so as to rest his chin on Brian's shoulder and embrace him. He felt Brian lean into him, allowing himself for a few short moments to be comforted. 

Brian pulled away. "I'm sorry Justin", he said. "Maybe it's best that I leave". " No", said Justin. "I can't bear to think of you on your own right now. Instead, I have an idea. Do you remember the river, where we used to swim and fish? It is perfect there this time of year. Come, let us fetch the rods and see what we can catch". Brian hesitated, but Justin insisted. "Come on, it will do you good. Forget everything else for one day". 

Brian smiled. It would be good to relive those carefree days of their youth once more, he decided. They grabbed some apples and a flagon of wine from the pantry and ran down to the stables, collecting two fishing rods from the store on the way. Quickly, they saddled their horses and rode off to where their favourite spot by the riverside had once been. 

Now, lying by the water's edge, their fishing lines cast into the river, Brian and Justin talked about their childhood, recalling a time of endless summer days and balmy nights. Justin was pleased how his suggestion to come to this place had proved to be a relaxing release for Brian and now were gone the dark clouds that had overcome him at breakfast. 

The day turned hot and with the midday sun high overhead, they moved beneath the shade of a large old oak tree, where they ate the fruit and drank from the wine flagon. The sunlight produced a dappling effect through the branches and, as Brian watched Justin as he chatted gaily, he could see the golden highlights the sun picked out in his hair. 

They grew quiet; both enjoying the solitude, with just the rippling water of the river winding it's way through the countryside, the only sound to be heard. 

Slowly, Brian leant over to Justin, only hesitating momentarily before kissing him. Justin returned his kiss and quickly, in the knowledge that they were unlikely to be disturbed, they undressed each other and proceeded to make love beneath the leafy canopy. 

In the next few weeks, Brian and Justin met as often as they could; here, by the riverside or Brian would come to the castle. They made love with a passion and urgency that consumed them completely. 

Much to his Mother's dismay, Justin managed to persuade Brian to allow him to take part in some of the raids on the Sheriff's tax collectors, travelling merchants and convoys of goods on their way to Nottingham Castle.  

However, during one such raid, one of the merchants recognised the blond-headed young man from the times he had done business with Justin's Father and quickly made his way to the Sheriff to inform him of his discovery. 

It was approaching midnight and, as arranged, Justin lay, waiting for his lover to come to him. He had drifted off to sleep, still fully clothed. He had not bothered to disrobe, as undressing him was one of the things Brian liked to do. He awoke, hearing the sound of horse's hooves on the cobbles below and went to his window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man he was waiting for. However, there was no moon tonight and no one could be seen in the courtyard. 

Justin smiled to himself as he heard the footsteps approaching up the stairs and didn't bother to turn around when the heavy oak door opened quietly behind him. He could feel the presence of the man now standing behind him and sighed as a hand slid around his waist and then moved slowly downwards to his groin. Justin moaned softly and leaned back into the larger man's body. 

But then his moan of pleasure became a cry of pain and shock, as the hand gripped him tightly. And, as the laudanum-soaked cloth was clamped tightly over his nose and mouth, all Justin could hear as his head began to swim and before the blackness came, was the Sheriff's voice murmuring coldly in his ear, "I have waited far too long. Tonight you will be mine". 


To be continued…… 

13 March 04