Buzzards, Hawks and Ravens

(Account of Six Friends' Lives in the "Dark" Ages)

by

Ruwen Rouhs

Chapter 14.4

- Clandestine in Trescrossing -

 

- Monks and Villains -

 

It was past mid-night. “Woo-woo-hooo” and again “woo-woo-hooo” followed by a never-ending repetition of “kewick, kewick, kewick” chased away Davy’s sleep once and for all. Scared to death, he covered his head with the scratchy blanket. Then he relaxed. It was Billy the Hooter, the Brown Owl, who searched for prey, and not the snowy Death Owl, the announcer of sudden death. His sleep was gone and now his skin started itching. Davy scratched his head, his arms, his belly, but the more he scratched the more his skin itched. To make matters even worse, Davy got cramps and his bowels seemed to burst. “These damned fleas! Fatty, Fatty are you awake? Fatty, please wake up!” In the next cubicle his friend, Fatty, snored the night away, unaffected by the beasts as were the other pilgrims in the pilgrim’s dormitory of the Abbey of St. Boniface.

“I shouldn’t have eaten like a pig.” The evening before, Friar Pirmin, the limping alter ego of the barrel-like abbot, had cared for Davy and Fatty like a mother. With his permission the hungry boys had not only ransacked the kitchen shelves, but also the pantry. For Davy, the unexpected feast was topped by a roasted chicken. The second chicken leg was probably too much for his belly. Now he had cramps.

The hooting of Billy the Hooter scared Davy, “I have to go to the latrine, Fatty, wake up, come with me. I am scared in the dark.” But Fatty slept on. Drowsily Davy stumbled through the pitch-black dormitory. At the door he tripped over the step and went headfirst onto the gravel ground, also skinning his knees and palms. “Ouch! Ouch!” His outcry echoed through the night covered monastery. “Damned splinters! Ouch! Ouch!” he wailed and limped off to the necessary in a dark corner of the courtyard.

*.*.*

 

With the door closed, the windowless nine-holer was pitch-dark. Afraid of the dark, Davy left the door wide open for the moonlight to seep in. Crouched over the hole nearest to the door, he tried to relief himself. “Ouch! Ouch! My tummy!” he wailed, massaging his belly.

Davy’s wailing had an unexpected consequence. Suddenly the entrance of the necessary darkened. Davy looked up and shivers began to run down his spine. A big black monster blocked moonlight. With chattering teeth and shrinking down to the size of a mouse, he waited for an assault by a ghost.

“It’s the dead of the night kid, and not the time for singing! Hush!” a soft voice tried to calm him. “Aren’t you one of the boys asking for shelter tonight? You screamed, and woke me out sleep, and probably half of the other monks too!”

Davy was relieved. “Are you the gatekeeper?” he asked, to be sure.

“Sure am. I am Friar Pion, the gatekeeper, or do you believe I am the spawn of the devil? Are you alright? In the dark, monasteries are scary.”

“I got bad cramps in my tummy and I tripped in the dark and skinned my knees and palms!”

Retreating from the door, Friar Pion told him in low voice, “I’ll wait for you in the courtyard, then I will check your wounds, but keep quiet!”

Davy was half-naked. When he left the latrine, he remembered with dismay that he was only clad with his short shirt. He pulled down the shirtfront to cover his crotch. Now his white bum glared brightly in the moonlight. Friar Pion eyed Davy from head to toe, “It’s a monastery, kid! Remember that! Never walk around bare-assed. The devil lurks everywhere!” Obviously amused, he seized the boy by the shoulder and dragged him to the gatehouse.

Inside, he fetched a well-worn cowl. “Cover yourself up, boy. I don’t need a bare ass in my room! What’s your name? ---- Davy? Take a seat on the bench, Davy!” In the light of the tallow candle the monk inspected Davy’s abrasions. “They need some cleaning! The tincture will sting, so don’t scream half of the town out of their sleep!”

The dark brown tincture Friar Pion used to wipe the scratches stung like hell. “Ouch, stop this, or I’ll die!” Davy grimaced.

“Is your tummy still hurting, Davy?” When the boy nodded, he ordered, “Lay down on the bench; I will check your abdomen!”

Friar Pion made an effort to examine Davy’s belly through the heavy cowl. “Your belly seems not to be puffed up, but I am not sure. It’s hard to examine your belly because of the coat.”

Davy was not shy. Like Fatty and the other Brave Boy Bandits, he had even liked to parade bare-assed through the Gray Raiders’ bivouac, but showing his lower body to a friar made him blush. Friar Pion calmed him. “I studied medicine in Bologna, once upon a time, so don’t be embarrassed.”

When Friar Pion bared Davy´s body, the boy instinctively covered up his private parts with his hands. “Take your hands away. I have to check your lower abdomen also.”

With his cold fingers Friar Pion examined Davy carefully. Davy blushed when Friar Pion fingers came close to his best part. “Your whole belly is soft and not swollen, so you should be all right!” Then he touched Davy´s pecker with the tip of his forefinger and chuckled, “But your little pecker became pretty hard, when I came close! Take care, Davy, you are in a monastery!” Impishly smiling, he added, “Did Pirmin feed you? Do you remember the story of Hansel and Gretel? He also likes to fatten nice boys and then the abbot greedily consumes them.”

Davy nodded because he had the comforting feeling he could trust this scrawny monk. He relaxed on the hard bench, gathered all his courage and said, “The pains of the bruises and scratches are nearly gone. Thank you, Friar. I only have a little pain in my insides. Can I stay here with you? I will not bother you. I’ll sleep on the bench.”

Friar Pion nodded his agreement, “I will permit it, but only if you swallow two spoons of this bitter potion against stomach pain!”

The Billy Hooters had all long retired to the woods, when Black Redstarts began to greet the nearing morning with their "hweet-tuc-tuc, hweet-tuc-tuc". The shrill song of the small birds forced Davy out of a deep sleep. Sitting up, he looked for Friar Pion, but his host had already left for the Morning Prayer. Covered by far too big a cowl, he stumbled across the courtyard to the pilgrims’ dormitory. In the dark, flea-ridden room he had to wake Fatty by shaking him rudely. “Wake up, you dozy devil; Lauds are nearly over.

On the way to the refectory, a smooth voice induced them to stop. Pirmin, the Abbot’s right-hand man, was waiting. “It’s all over the town, already, boys. Two fancy lads have been offering their services at nearly every door in town. A little birdie told it to our venerable Abbot Father Wynfrith. He was not amused.” Looking at the boys sternly, “He is used to having young lads call on him first. For a long time now, the Abbots of St. Boniface enjoy the privilege of hiring young men before the townspeople.”

Fatty and Davy went pale. However Pirmin’s next remark calmed the boys. “But he will not hold a grudge, if you go into his service and do what him wishes! He is bighearted. Now get going! Get your bags; your new place is in the Abbot’s house.” Clutching them by their necks, he dragged the boys to a small room in the back of Abbot’s house. “Your room is within call of the Abbot’s suite. If he calls you, you have to come to him immediately. Remember, on the double, even in the dead of night!”

*.*.*

 

Fatty and Davy had to wear the special outfit of the Abbot’s pages, tunics and cowls with the emblem of the Abbey of St. Boniface, a black raven on a white shield. The next four days they waited in vain for a call from the Abbot. They had to be busy at all times, Pirmin made sure of that. From the Lauds, the Morning prayers, till late in the evening, they were tied up with chores. In the morning they drove a two-wheeled cart to the dairy-farm of St. Boniface to get milk and eggs for the kitchener. They also had to pick up sacks of flour for the bakery, at the monastery’s water mill. Later, in the afternoon, they had to join the apothecary and help the frail monk to tend the medical herbs in the Friar’s garden.

Their service in the abbey did not only mean toil and stress, Davy and Fatty also found a new friend. In the evening of their first day in the monastery, Davy still had Friar Pion’s cowl. During daytime he had only exchanged quick greetings with Friar Pion, when he and Fatty passed the gate on errands. The first chance to return the cowl came when the monks had gone to sleep after the Compline. Under the cover of darkness, the two sneaked to the gatehouse and knocked at Pion’s door.

“Who’s out there?” Friar Pion’s asked drowsily.

“It’s me Father, Davy and my friend, Fatty. I am bringing back your cowl. I hope you didn’t miss it!”

“Come in. Late guests are scarce in a monastery. You are welcome.” Friar Pion invited the boys in. Ushering them to a small table in the dimly lit room, he produced a small bowl filled with black shiny shriveled balls. “Be my guest. I saved these goodies because my intuition told me you would like sweets.”

Reluctantly Davy took one of the shriveled and sticky balls and began to nibble. “Take one, Fatty” he told his friend, “these are dried plums; sweet as honey,” and he licked his fingers delightedly. “Didn’t I tell you Friar Pion is nice? He looks like a golliwog but is the nicest person one could meet in a place like this!”

Friar Pion was startled by this compliment coming out of the blue. On the one hand he was slightly vexed at being compared to a scarecrow.

“Forget about the old and ragged man I am now. Can you boys imagine how good I looked as a young knight?” sighing deeply. “Once upon a time I was an adventurous and inexperienced knight, clad in fancy dress. As a man-at-arms I rambled throughout Europe and took service here and there.”

Recalling those events for a moment, he continued, “At the court of Bologna I got into trouble. By accident I killed a young prince in a joust. His father vowed vengeance on me, and I had to flee to Rome. However, I didn’t find shelter at the Pope’s court. So I went further down to very tip of Sicily. I signed on for the army of the king of Sicily and Aragon, King Jacob. I used a false name. That was the best time of my life. King Jacob ruled a realm spanning the Mediterranean Sea from Sicily in the East to the Balearic Islands and further to the West to the Principality of Catalonia and the Kingdom of Valencia. These times in the King’s army were full of adventures and amities!”

Friar Pion was full of stories. Now that he had found some eagerly listening boys, he couldn’t quit telling his adventures. From this evening on, Davy and Fatty sneaked to meet Friar Pion every evening, after the Compline. Sitting side by side with the old friar in the dimly lit room they listened to his tales of plundering and finishing off his stock of goodies. Davy was especially fond of the old monk and after only one story session, he wished that Friar Pion would be his much longed for grandpa; someone he could lean on and who would listen.

*.*.*

 

On Saturday, early in the morning, a small party left the Abbey of St. Boniface, while the Lauds was still being celebrated. The cavalcade crossed the Reuss-River by the covered bridge and headed through the Western Gate of the New Trescrossing into the wooded forelands. At the head rode a mercenary, armed to the teeth, bearing the banner of the Abbot with the black raven on a white shield. Abbot Wynfrith followed close behind on a big black gelding. Friar Pirmin, his right-hand man, stayed close to his left, riding a brown mare. Fatty and Davy followed behind on their grey mules, together with a cook leading a packhorse which was heavily laden with provisions. Both boys were still sleepy, because Friar Pion couldn’t end his stirring tales the evening before.

At dawn Pirmin had roused the boys after they had only had some hours of sleep; by nearly breaking the door. “Get up! Get up! You sleepy heads! Night’s over for today. Get dressed! Use the new tunics with the emblem. His Eminency, Abbot Wynfrith, has decided to head for his hunting lodge!”

Around midmorning, Fatty’s and Davy’s tummies began to rumble. “I‘ll die on the spot, if I don’t get something between my teeth, Davy!”

“Me too, but remember the poor times with the Brave Boy Bandits!”

As if by magic, Abbot Wynfrith pulled his horse to a stop at the remnants of a chapel, close to the edge of the woods. Only parts of the back wall and the side walls were left, and some of grey boulders from the base of the former altar.

“It’s time for breakfast! Cook, pull over and serve the food to me. Use the altar for a table,” the Abbot ordered, pointing at the grey boulders.

Standing around the altar with growling stomachs, the boys had to watch the Abbot devouring roast beef and bread and several cakes. Fatty was a heavy eater, but he couldn’t compete with the Abbot. In the time Fatty would have devoured one cake, the Abbot had already finished two. After three cakes and a bottle of wine Abbot Wynfrith announced their departure, without even offering the leftovers to his escort.

When the cavalcade entered the shadowy forest, the cook motioned to the boys to stay back. “It’s always the same. His majesty never bears in mind the needs of others,” slipping chunks of meat and bread to the boys, he grinned, “but I do!”

For the next three hours they rode along a small trail through a high beech forest. At mid-afternoon the party arrived at the wide clearing with the Abbey’s hunting lodge. The lodge was not a simple wooden hut, but a small manor. The main building, a low-built, half-timbered house, dominated the kitchen-house and the wooden huts for the servants on the left and cabins for the hunters, the stables for the horses and a big kennel on the right.

A big black horse in the paddock attracted the attention of Abbot Wynfrith. Like a lansquenet he began to swear, “Pirmin, you imbecile, you blockhead, you son of a wench who never gets enough of getting poked, why didn’t you toss me out of your bed earlier this morning?” His face went crimson. “Nuncio Eugenio is waiting; the Pope’s emissary! Hurry up, you son of a jughead and the devil’s grandmother! Announce to his Eminency my deepest regret. I will be at his service in just a minute.”

With the help of the mercenary, Abbot Wynfrith struggled from his charger, tidied his habit, “You stay behind me, mercenary, waving my banner! And you,” threatening Fatty and Davy with his crook, “You walk one step ahead, one to the left, the other to the right!”

At the pace of a super-sized snail he walked, short-winded, to the entrance of the hunting lodge. At the door he crossed himself, pushed the boys inside and puffed up like a peacock. Nuncio Eugenio had occupied the Abbot’s throne. When he rose with a disdainful smile, the black haired, haggard Lord Cardinal, in his purple, towered over the barrel-like Abbot in his black habit, by nearly two heads. When he offered his hand to the Abbot for a kiss, he scrunched up his eagle shaped nose. “Salve in the name of Our Holiness, Pope Honorius! Salve in the name of our almighty and all knowing Lord. Be welcome, our devoted servant, Abbot Wynfrith!”

The Abbot kneeled down at Nuncio Eugenio’s feet and kissed the Cardinal’s ring. Then this flabby lump of meat raised his head and breathed devotedly, “Welcome to my humble dwelling, your Eminency! The blessing of our Almighty Father and your presence will rekindle our barren country.” Raising his shaky voice, he exclaimed, “Holy God, we praise thy name!”

“I am not your Lord, my dear! Rise to your feet and keep me company!” While Abbot Wynfrith raised himself, groaning, the Cardinal’s swift eyes inspected Davy and Fatty. “My dear Wynfrith, your taste is unsurpassed. What are the names of your gorgeous pages? I am sure their company will make the time go by in the blink of an eye!” Turning Davy, “What’s your name, you delicate prince of the north?” When Davy´s expression disclosed his total lack of understanding, he turned to Fatty, “And you, my veritable lad? You surely know how please a tired wayfarer!” Fatty was shrewd enough to smell a rat but also clever enough to disguise his uncomfortable feeling. He just smiled, “We are at your command, your Holiness!”

His last words were nearly drowned out by the clopping of hoofs, the neighing of horses and the vociferous welcoming banter of the two other guests arriving at the same time, one from the south the other from the west.

“Hi Menno, old robber baron, how’s your Milady back home in Veldegg? Are you still a faithful husband to your beauty or are you knocking up all maidens in your county? Remember our time as lady-killers down in Cyprus? That’s was a time; every night another snatch!”

“Oh, Ferry old boy! Away from home, out for some fun again! I missed your company! ---- Why didn’t you show up at my wedding? I waited for you!”

“You still owe me the winnings of our last bet, you rapist; 37 virgins! Remember the stakes? If you got the Countship of Veldegg, I get 37 virgins, the most beautiful maidens of your new realm!

“I won the countship and you won the virgins, but you never came to collect the stake! I’ll tell you, old boy, it was a hard job finding 37 virgins! I had to roam the whole countship of Veldegg to rustle them up!”

“I’ll come with you tomorrow, to collect my prize!”

“Do you think I saved the virgins for you? You are too late, Ferry, old boy! Sorry, sorry! The virgins aren’t virgins anymore and all their bastards have the same crooked nose that I am sporting!”

Roaring with laugher they rushed into the hunting lodge!

“Are we late? Nuncio Eugenio, we are at your command, Emissary of his Holiness! Does our Holiness need strong hand?” Menno, Count of Veldegg, imitated an executioner snapping somebody’s neck, while Ferry backed up his friend, “At your command, Eminency. You want it, then we will do it, clandestinely, or in bright sunlight!”

*.*.*

 

“Is this bearded, crook-nosed guy Anzo’s uncle, the one who killed his father and stole his county?”

“Guess so. I wouldn’t like to meet him after dark, at least if I was a virgin!”

“And the blond scar-face? Who is that? ”

“Haven’t you heard of that roughneck, the enemy of the Emperor? It’s the Duc de Lorraine, also known as Ferry le Lutteur.”

“Why are they meeting with Cardinal Eugenio and Abbot Wynfrith in this place? Secretly, I suppose!

“Hush boys, keep your traps shut! That isn’t your business anyway. Go; get the refreshments and the wine for the guests. They need some before the meeting starts.

Fatty and Davy could only could catch snippets of the conversation while sneaking in and out of the meeting room. “…he is a confederate of the King Louis…”     “…..could you expect anything else, the snake CCdO and his Unholyness are of the same breed…”     “…Pope John and King Philippe le Long…….”       “best chance is on the Archbishop’s  birthday……”     “…….not me!”       “You have been invited as the Abbot of St. Boniface ………”

The boys had never heard the name CCdO before. Therefore Fatty asked Davy to play stupid. “What is CCdO, Friar Pirmin? I haven’t heard of such a snake called CCdO before? Is it a dangerous beast? Will it attack us here in the forest?”

“I told you already, it’s not your business! Close your ears, close your mouth, close your eyes! I have seen men more clever than you dangling from the gallows tree.”

“We can’t close our eyes, Friar Pirmin. We might trip and spill the wine and the delicacies!” Fatty chuckled and earned a swat on the nose from the monk.

*.*.*

 

With the upcoming dark the conventicle was to be turned into a veritable gormandizing. Under the guidance of the cook, the hunters began to roast shoats and hoggets on spits over a blazing fire. Meanwhile, partridges and pigeons were sautéed in the kitchen and flat bread prepared on the stove. Ale, cider and sweet wine were made available in the antechamber of the hall as well as bottles with Norman apple brandy and Hungarian plum brandy.

“Fatty and Davy, tonight you are the waiters. No boorishness! The Abbot expects winsome ways, you have to be charming, especially to his Eminency, the Cardinal. You have to read the desires in his eyes! You have to meet his wishes before they are articulated. The Abbot expects it! Now get going.”

Pirmin took a sip of wine, clicked his tongue, “Take this bottle Tokaji to his Eminency. It’s delicious! Fatty, remember the Cardinal desires your special service tonight; satisfy all his wishes! I say again, all!”

“Straighten your tunic, Davy! Don’t look like a slob! Take this goblet with Tokaji, the Abbot likes it sweet. Take good care of him. You are his special page for tonight. I will serve the ruffians.”

Soon the white table cloth was stained with red wine and drippings of the fried food, littered with gnawed bones and half-eaten pieces of roast. Again and again Pirmin and the boys had to procure new food and new drinks. At first the room was only filled with the noises of chewing and the gulping. Later, Count Menno and Ferry le Lutteur noisily recounted their adventures during their campaigns in Italy and around the Mediterranean Sea. Then they started cracking cheap jokes and talked bawdily, without any regard for the spiritual dining partners. The Abbot didn’t rank lower than the two ruffians; not in respect to eating or drinking, nor in respect to the use of bad language.

When the candles had burned low and darkness nearly filled the room, Abbot Wynfrith pulled Davy close. “Come on, my dear! Closer, closer little fucker!” he commanded impatiently. He drew the small boy between his spread apart legs and placed his left hand on Davy´s bum. When Davy backed off, he drew him even closer. “Don’t back away, boy, you will like my special treatment! No need to be shy!” The Abbot slipped his left hand into Davy´s breeches and began to finger Davy´s bare bum, while he used his right to masturbate himself. “Oh, what a soft little fanny!” he raved. With his greasy forefinger he began to trace the cleft between the mounds down to the hole. With his fingertip he circled the small orifice appreciatively and then attempted to penetrate it. “Did you clean your little bum-hole today, my dear?”

Davy was shocked. He was disgusted. He wanted to run, but couldn’t back away. All he was able do was to shake his head obediently. The Abbot pulled back his left hand for a moment, smelled his forefinger and licked it, “Well done! I like boy pooh! It smells so delicate, so lovely. Your shit tastes sweeter than honey! Tonight I will eat your ass.”

With drippings from the plate, he greased his fingers and began to feel up Davy´s bum-hole again. At first he inserted one fingertip, then a second one and began to drill deeper and deeper into Davy´s bum-hole. “Oh, you are so tight!” he groaned, pulling back the fingers. Then he tried to insert three fingers at one time. “You are so tight!” he moaned ecstatically, “You will be my boy-bitch tonight. I will fuck the hell out of you. I will enjoy your tight ass, my lovely boy-bitch!” All of a sudden he groaned loudly and his face went purple. “Oh, I am cuming, cuming, cuming already!”

Davy, the former Brave Boy Bandit, was hurt to his core by this brutal act of violence. He had never been molested before, not even by one of the horny Grey Raiders. Nobody had ever treated him as a rent-boy. He had never been degraded and called a boy-whore. Full of shame and disgust; he went into shivers and cried out like a wounded deer.

*.*.*

 

At the opposite end of the table, Fatty had been on duty. He had served Nuncio Eugenio attentively and was rewarded by polite questions.

“What are you called, my boy?” When Fatty didn’t answer immediately, “Tell me your name. I’ll bet you weren’t born dumb!”

“Everyone calls me Fatty, but I am not chubby anymore. I am fifteen now; I have grown!”

“You are a fine looking lad, I agree, and I am sure you must have a fine first name too?”

“It’s Alexander! But nobody calls me that.”

“Alessandro! Do you know Alessandro l´imperatore, the great Macedonian Emperor, my favorite? You have great name!”

When the lights were very low, and the Cardinal’s hunger for roasted meat and sweet wine was satisfied, his apatite turned to another treat. He smiled at Fatty, “My name is Eugenio. Alessandro and Eugenio! Sounds nice together. Don’t you think so too?” He picked up a piece honey cake. “Try this, you will like it. It’s the best treat I can offer you at the moment, my sweet looking Adonis!” He clasped Fatty around his slender waist, pulled him closer and breathed into his ear, “Alessandro, my sweet son, mia ragazzo grazioso! I studied you all evening; you are the nicest and most graceful looking young man I have met in all my life!”

Fatty couldn’t help himself, and beamed at the strange looking man, with his black hair and dark eyes. He took the offered cake, and leaned into the Cardinal, “Thank you, Sir! Thank you, Sir Eugenio! You look great also!”

The Cardinal took this as a sign of trust. At first cautiously, then more daringly, he began to trace over Fatty’s body with his forefinger. At first he traced the boy’s blond eyebrows, then the small nose, the rubbery lips and the hairless chin. “A qui bello! So sweet, so soft!” he whispered, hugging the boy. Then the Cardinal’s fingers moved slowly down to Fatty’s waist. There his fingers halted for a short time, trying to find the belly button. Then they moved cautiously down to Fatty’s crotch. With gentle fingers he outlined the boy’s flaccid cock, while studying Fatty’s face intently.

The first moment of the intimate touch confused Fatty and he stared wide eyed into the happy, shining eyes of his Eminency. He became afraid, but felt flattered at the same time. On a sudden impulse, he decided to give in. He pushed his lower abdomen forward slightly and offered the Cardinal better access to his private parts. His involuntary action was rewarded by delighted whispers, “Bello! A qui bello! Ti amo! Mio Alessandro, I love you so! Mio caro ragazzo!” These words were followed by shower of pecks on Fatty’s cheeks.

Fatty blushed. Suddenly he had butterflies in his stomach. His cock throbbed and leaked pre-cum. He leaned into the Cardinal and was close to coming, when suddenly the piercing outcry from Davy scared the company at the table out of their wits. The Cardinal froze and he turned Fatty loose. Ferry le Lutteur and Menno of Veldegg stopped their bantering and stared in surprise at the Abbot and Davy.

Quickly the Duke became aware of the Abbot’s embarrassing situation. At first he laughed heartily, but then became angry at the Abbot’s rude behavior towards the small boy. He remembered his own sons and felt pity for Davy. With a quick command he resolved the embarrassing situation, “Pages, we need some more wine, wine and brandy. Hurry up, boys! I’m sure you will find some stuff in the outer room!” Fatty rushed to his shocked friend, hugged him tightly and then walked the crying Davy quickly out of the room.

*.*.*

 

Once in the anteroom, Fatty had a hard time comforting Davy. “I have to leave here, Fatty. I am not the Abbot’s pussy boy! I am not his boy-bitch!”

“Calm down! Calm, Davy! Relax! He is just an old fat fag. The bugger is intoxicated and of unsound mind. Don’t risk your life because of that bastard!”

“No! No! No! I am no ….” Davy rushed out of the hunting lodge and dashed into the dark night.

“Come back, come back!” Fatty hastened after his small friend. He was lucky, because one of the Duke’s soldiers saw Davy vanishing into the dark and ran after him. He caught him, just before he stumbled into the swampland, and in his arms he brought back the struggling heap of despair.

“Stay, Davy, please stay! Fatty begged Davy. “I have an idea of how to resolve our problems. ---- Get me the jug of Tokaji. That gooey stuff is the Abbot’s favourite wine. I will mix it with plum brandy and honey. The Abbot will like it. After only one goblet he will be drunk and not able to grope you again.”

Back in the main room Davy proffered the wine to Count Menno and Duke Ferry le Lutteur, with still watering eyes. Meanwhile, Fatty attended the clergymen, first the Cardinal, then the Abbot. “It will be an honour for me to be your servant tonight, Abbot Wynfrith,” Fatty whispered seductively into the Abbot’s ear while serving the adulterated wine. “Davy is still too young and inexperienced, while I am sweet and strong like this Tokaji.” The Abbot was still furious, because of the embarrassing incident. However, the sweet talk pleased the old lecher, and taking it for an overture for a night full of sex, he took the jug and downed half of its content at one gulp. He finished the second half by raising his jug to his guests.

Full of expectation, he turned to Fatty, “Sweet boy, a second helping of this delicious wine! Please!” He beamed at his guests, “You have to taste this wine, it’s sweet as honey and strong like ……” He wasn’t able to finish the sentence. He went pale and tried to concentrate, but the world around him began to spin in circles. He closed his eyes, but now his stomach revolted. He felt like vomiting. He tried to keep his mouth closed, using his hands to hold the puke back. In vain! He staggered to the door, threw up and puked all over his precious habit and the floor.

“That the end of the party!” Count Menno announced with naked spite. “I am tired anyway; let’s go to sleep!”

The Duke, who had been watching Davy with caring eyes, summoned his adjutant, “Lieutenant, tonight you are responsible for the safety of these two boys, especially for the well-being of the small one. Take them with you to the soldiers’ quarters.”

*.*.*

 

Count Menno and Ferry, Duc de Lorrain, were the first to leave next morning. “See you all in two weeks at CCdO’s birthday party,” Ferry le Lutteur told the others, when he bid goodbye to Nuncio Eugenio and the Abbot. Menno amended, “We will arrive from Veldegg. Ferry is visiting my Countship and my Lady will finally have the opportunity to meet my best friend! See you all at CCdO’s birthday!”

Around midmorning Nuncio Eugenio was ready to leave as well. On his black stallion, dressed in a lightweight suit of armour, he looked like a Duke on overland journey, and not like a Cardinal. Just when his small party was about vanish in the thick forest, Nuncio Eugenio turned his horse around and cantered back. Halfway back he pulled his horse to a stop and waved Fatty nearer. Tussling the boy’s light hair, he talked emphatically to him for some time. Then he handed him a little red purse and turned back to follow his escort. At the edge of the woods, however, he brought his stallion to a standstill again. “Ciao, Alessandro! Ciao, mia caro ragazzo! Don’t forget your Eugenio, my little imperatore! We’ll see each other in two weeks! Ciao!”

When Fatty came back as happy as a sandboy, Davy still looked downcast and was white as a sheet. Now that the Duke, his protector, had left, Davy was terribly worried. “Will the Abbot take revenge, Fatty? He is known to be cruel and always avid for revenge!”

Fatty took Davy around the waist, spiralled him around in the air and hugged his small friend. Putting him down again, he rattled the coins in his new moneybag in front of Davy´s nose. “Don’t be afraid, Davy-Boy. We don’t have to worry anymore! We are rich and independent.” Then he kissed Davy on his stubby nose and whispered, “I’ll tell you a secret, a big secret! Please don’t blow it to anyone! Eugenio loves me! He loves me so much! He asked me to come with him to Rome. I am his great Emperor, his sweet Alessandro!” Noting Davy’s blank look of despair, “You are also invited to stay with him. I negotiated with him and he promised to take care of you too. You are my friend and therefore you are his friend as well.”

*.*.*

 

At their departure from the lodge, Fatty and Davy took the lead of the small cavalcade. “Look at his Eminency! He looks just like an empty flour bag on his proud mount, all white and sick. He looks not a bit like a noble Abbot. At the moment, you have nothing to fear. Nuncio warned the Abbot to be careful, because we are under his special protection.”

On the way back, the Abbot and his right-hand man, Fiar Pirmin, lagged behind, only accompanied by the mercenary with a drooping banner. Fatty, Davy and the cook went ahead and crossed the covered bridge over the Reuss-River just before the Vespers.

When the chimes announced the end of the Compline and the bedtime of the monks, Davy appealed to Fatty, “I have to see Friar Pion! Please come with me Davy. It’s so scary at night outside, in the monastery. Please, come with me!”

Hand in hand they sneaked from the Abbey’s mansion to the gate-house. In his small office Friar Pion was already waiting for the boys in front of a bowl full of sweets. Sitting side by side with the monk in the dim tallow light, Fatty began to recount the events of the short trip, while Davy nestled tightly to the friar. By the time Fatty gave the account on the evening banquet, Davy couldn’t help it anymore and began to cry heartbreakingly. He clung to Friar Pion stammering, “You can touch me everywhere, my Father Pion! You can even touch my most private parts! You are a physician!”

The haggard old monk’s body went rigid. He tried to remember a time when someone had snuggled him so tightly. He couldn’t, it was too long ago.

Fatty giggled as he watched the old man’s embarrassment. “Friar Pion, you have to hug Davy!” Noticing the Friar’s first clumsy attempt to hold his friend, he suggested to the old man, “You have to hug Davy hard as hard as you can, Friar Pion! Davy loves you, Friar Pion! He really does! Last night when he was in great distress, he spoke in his sleep, Friar Pion, Grandpa Pion, please hold me! I am so afraid, Grandpa, hold me, Grandpa Pion.”

AUTHOR NOTE

I would like to express my special thanks to B. for doing an unbelievable great job by correcting all the wrong expressions and the punctuation used by a non native English writer.

Comments, reviews, questions and complaints are welcomed. Please send them to ruwenrouhs@hotmail.de. And I would like to add, thanks for reading.