GANYMEDE 2

All usual disclaimers apply to this short story

 

"What do you here, boy?"

The man who swept the portal of the Theatre, stared with disdain and some suspicion. Boys, Ganymedes all, stood often where now I stood, but at a time other than this, for there was no play in progress, nor was like to be soon for it was yet two hours to noon.

"I but look, sir," I said, my voice wistful, "For I would fain be a player in such a house as this."

It was an answer that would make the man both sneer and yet, while he sneered, arouse a little of his interest and compassion perhaps also, for he was himself a player in that house. Not a player of great note, it seemed, one that would do to fill a scene or two, no more; yet when a boy he had dreamed also of strutting his hour upon the stage, as all actors, lesser and greater, did when they were boys.

"Take your fancy elsewhere, boy," he said, not unkindly, "The Lord Chamberlain hires not such as you. You have too many years on you to learn the trade of a boy player."

"I can read, sir," I said, my voice filled with hope, "And I have a mind that does remember words once heard."

And though those were words such as any boy, dreaming of being a player may use, they were true also; for though I had been found in the Rookery at nine years of age, I had lived not there since, and in the trade I plied for the youth who owned me I had much need to remember words and to cipher them also.

"Be that as it is," the player grunted, "A boy player has duties other than just the mouthing of words, duties I think you know nothing of."

Oh, I knew well enough of what he spoke; to be taken as apprentice player a boy must needs have four things in his favour – a pretty face, a voice unbroken, a mind that can remember and a willing arse. My arse was no stranger to cock, for in the four years since my mother sold me for a shilling, I had earned money with my arse. Aye, and earned willingly too.

"Duties I could learn, sir?"

My voice carried hope still, but with that hope also an offer that perchance the man may wish to take.

He looked at me anew, and with interest greater than before.

Though my arse has been bought and sold many times I look not like a Ganymede, for I ply not that honourable trade as others do. No common boy of the street who will return at curfew to a shit-stinking hovel in the Rookery, but a boy of some small status perhaps; a boy who is not home to lice and fleas. A boy, perchance, whose arse, if not fresh, is still but little used.

"Some duty I may show you," he said, his voice of a tone that I knew he spoke not with his brain but with his cock.

"A duty I would fain perform," I smiled a smile of hope, "Were it to gain me some admittance to your Company."

Is there a man alive that can resist the smile of a boy fair of face and slender of form? A smile that is promise of an arse to fuck and at no cost? If there be such then he I have not met.

I had no great calling to be a player, no more than to be a priest, though priests and players both have boys enough to fuck and such is good reason to follow the calling of either, for all men desire a boy to warm their bed a'nights.

My mother sold me that I may live by my arse, and I have no quarrel with that. Such is the fate of many boys in the Rookery and is the natural order of things; men desire boys and the Rookery breeds boys enough, as sparrows breed for hawks and little fish for bigger fish.

That I became no common Ganymede was chance; I was sold to a boy, himself a Ganymede, tasked with finding for a man, a boy of tender years with an arse unused, and I was such a boy.

My mother sold me without second thought, but the man wanted me not. He had but tasked the Ganymede who found me as a test of his honesty, and, wanting me not, he gave me to that Ganymede as his.

I learned then that, no matter what the trade, honesty serves best; and I learned soon after that a boy's arse does more than provide him with food, it brings him much pleasure as well. I had yet then to learn that it brings more than both.

The Ganymede who owned me then, and mistake not, own me he did, and does still, for he had given coin for me and I question not that I am his property, did with me as nature intended and used my arse to win bread and used it for his pleasure as well.

His own arse brought us meat and fish, for no longer was he a common Ganymede, but catamite now to the one he named Kit, the man he had proved his honesty to, and held sway over many of the Ganymedes who worked London streets; provided them with shelter and made them keep clean and free of lice so their arses were in much demand.

Then it was he took me from the streets, trained me in arts more than just those of the arse, for men of some quality desire more than just an arse to fuck, they want the boy entire.

I learned how to pleasure cock with hands and mouth, how to exchange tongue with a man when his passion is roused and how to make a man feel that he alone could give me pleasure.

All this I learned, and learned with a will, for now I earned our bread, not bent over in an alley but in men's beds, in comfort and in luxury.

He trained me in also other matters, made me learn to cipher and to read, and to forget no thing I ever heard, no matter of how little consequence it seemed.

Strange learning for a boy who sold his arse, but Master Kit and his catamite had uses for me greater than the selling of my arse, though it was theirs to sell as they pleased.

I have yet to name the youth who owned me, and, truth to tell, his name I know not.

Master Kit did call him `Piers', though he had not that name from the Rookery, for none there were given names such. The Ganymedes who served him, and there were many such, did call him `Petrus Angelicus', and wonder not at that for `Petrus' is but another form of `Piers', and angel he was indeed to those who used their arses at his bidding.

The great barn he had from Kit gave shelter to those, and when they became of an age when no longer could they sell their arses with ease, he did take them into his employ to wander the streets of the city and see no harm came to those who still had an arse to sell.

Who named him first in Latin I know not, for Latin is spoken not in the Rookery, but at times a boy would come to us, escaped from a prenticeship where he was used more ill than most, and learn a trade anew.

That Master Kit did much to fund this enterprise I learned soon enough, and with it learned why the Ganymedes, when they returned at curfew, did carefully relate all they had seen and heard. That they did so had seemed to me strange, but Piers, as I now will name him, did explain to me that a tapestry is made up of many threads and many stitches, and that each time a boy gave him news it was a stitch, and sometimes a part of a thread.

He knew not what the tapestry was but passed what he learned to Kit, and when I found where those stitches and threads went from Kit, my blood ran cold.

Kit was no mere scribbler of plays, he was in service to Cecil, and even in the Rookery that name was known.

Kit and his catamite were spies, though what and who they spied on was beyond my knowing then, but what was in my knowing was that if they were spies, then I was spy also, and when I did relate to Piers the nature and likes of the man I had lain with of a night, that relating soon was in the hands of the Queen's Secretary.

A spy, once known as a spy, has enemies many and some of great position, and so it was with Kit.

A charge of heresy was laid against him, and from such a charge even the great Walsingham, were he alive still, could offer no protection.

Kit's life was measured in days, for once taken he would not walk free. And worse, for he would be put to the question, and under such torture would reveal much that may harm the realm.

Thus it was that they who held the secrets of the land had him murdered, stabbed in a tavern brawl and buried in a Deptford churchyard, though search as you may, his grave you will not find, and on a boat to Flanders ere the Crowner had pronounced him killed unlawfully.

I was on the skiff with Piers when he was rowed to that boat, and though Piers did plead mightily that he be taken also to Flanders, Kit would not allow it so. He was dead, he said, and should his catamite disappear, some may question how dead he was.

It cleaved Piers' heart in twain and he thought to leave London, begin anew elsewhere, but though the Great Spider, Cecil, has a web that stretches across the land, the centre of that web is London and we were strands in that web.

Though the air in London is not sweet, we were given to know that we would breathe easier there than in another place where we would not breathe at all.

Thus it was that I came to be standing at the portal of the great Theatre, offering my arse to a poor player.

England was, as it is now, a land in turmoil. Not the turmoil of a pot that seethes and boils, but of a pot that has yet to be heated high but, nonetheless, sits on the fire.

Queen Bess held the hearts of the common folk, but the question lurked deep of who was to follow her, for she had no heir nor was like to beget one. Unmarried women, even queens, past the age of bearing child are not like to conceive, and if no direct heir, then who?

A matter not for the minds of common folk, but one that exercised much the minds of those who sat in seats of power, or those who would have such seats.

Sir Francis, the Queen's Moor as she named him, had spun the web that trapped those that would intrigue, and now the Spider, Cecil, sat in the centre of that web, and down the silken strands flowed the knowledge that did keep the realm from harm.

"Come boy," the player called to me, "Perchance you may have some skill would be of use to us."

He fucked me over a table in the tiring house, my breeches round my ankles, and truly I did play my part, clenching tight my arse and squealing like a virgin when he entered me.

He had no interest in my cock, as many men do not, but did exclaim when he set eyes upon it, that there was one in that Company that would like it much.

Though now a little past the age of fourteen, Fortune has favoured me with a fair face and a slender body and many mistake me for years lesser than I have, a mistake they unmake when setting eyes upon my nakedness, for though no hair is permitted to grow on me and my body is slight and slender, my member is of goodly size and like to arouse the interest of those who have fancy for a boy almost a youth.

Such men there are, though fewer by far in number than those who want only the tight arse of a young Ganymede, and much prized by the boys that find them, for all boys who live by their arses do long for a man who will take them as catamite and keep them till they be too old to bed.

I had no task to seek such a one; I was but to gain admittance to the players' Company if it be possible, and to use my ears to hear the words spoke by those who sat in the seats at the stage side, for men of matter sit there and may, perchance, speak indiscreet, and the Great Spider was greedy for such words.

"Master George may perchance see a use for you," he said when his eyes had registered my member, "Wait by the door and when he comes I'll tell him of you."

He was true to his word and a man of middle years, not yet run to fat and with fashionable beard, did call me to him.

"I'm told you would be a player; that you have run from a prenticeship that suited you not, that you can read and cipher both."

All this I assured him I had said and to his enquiry I did say I came from Deptford, it being the only place I knew of not in the city.

He eyed my form and face, fingers under my chin and turning my head so he could observe fully.

"Fair enough of face," he said, though to himself and not to me, "And formed well enough to play a woman of no great years. Get thee to the tiring house, costume as a serving wench and come to me again."

I did as bidden, removing first my shirt and breeches lest they spoil the line of a wench's dress, and presented myself again for his inspection.

He had no words to say on how I looked, but did me approach the stool whereon he sat, and as I stood before him he did place a hand under my wench's dress and did fondle me so.

I made pretence of surprise, but not of dislike at being treated so, for my cock much likes such treatment and it rose to fill the hand that grasped it.

"It may be that you have something enough to please me," he said, releasing my cock, "If you have wit and skill we will discover later."

Discover he did, for that very afternoon, dressed as a wench, I was thrust upon the stage to take part in the Jig, the comic, always bawdy entertainment that follows from a play.

I had no instruction, no words given to memorise and say, I was left to make my own way before the noisy groundlings of the pit and the no less noisy and lewd gentry who sat at the sides.

My arm was grasped by the player who had fucked me earlier, no poor player as I had thought, but Will Kemp, a clown of renown. He thrust me against a pillar, his hand dove up my skirt, grasped my balls.

"I had thought to find a pond I could tickle a trout from," he leered at the guffawing watchers, "But all I find is a handful of stones!"

"Oh sir, you wrong my honour," I bleated for he held my stones tight and if tears did show in my eyes they were not feigned.

"I wrong my hand more than your honour," he bellowed to the groundlings, and released my aching stones. "No smell of fish here," he announced after inspecting his hand with his nose, "No Juliet, this, and no Romeo, for no Juliet would die for love of what I found there."

The groundlings were in agonies of laughter and I in near agony from my aching balls, for gentle with them had he not been.

"Will Kemp is a man of base taste," Master George did say to me after when he looked to see no damage had been done and soothed my feelings by taking my cock into his mouth, and showed care enough for my well-being to find if seed flowed still.

"I like you well enough," he told me when he had satisfied himself that all still worked as it should. "I want no prentice boy, but if you have a mouth that pleases I will find tasks for you."

Tasks he found indeed, and simple tasks for a boy of my nature, for my mouth has no dislike for cock and my cock much liking for mouth, but though I pleased him well enough he had no wish to take me as catamite and I slept each night in the great barn we had from Kit, for though he was dead and living in Flanders, that barn was a key thread in the Spider's web and it was ours still to use.

A boy who has an arse that has been used from before he was of an age of ten, has an itch there that only cock can scratch, and I was no different from others of my kind. Some scratching such I had from those who took the seats by the stage and eyed my slender body with lewd intent, and duly I reported on their taste and fancy, but nothing did I hear of any note and for that I gave thanks.

A spy who learns a matter of import and passes that hearing to the one who has him spy, is like to live but for a short time after. He cannot unhear what he has heard and, lest he speak of it where it should not be spoken of, `tis safest if he be dead. The dead tell no tales no matter how hard the question be put.

Nor did I find one who would take me as catamite, though much I longed for one. Fair I was of face and form and had member enough to satisfy any man, but there are few like Kit. Men of some substance, and the boy who simpers on their arm to be of better birth than I. Though none now would take me as a boy from the Rookery, none would believe my birth to be of any status but low and fit not to be in the company of gentry.

Of this I did complain at nights when Piers held me close and took what comfort he could from me; for since that night in Deptford he had not known man again, though he was youth still and had seed that he must spill.

"Seek not to be a catamite," he told me, "For Love is but a liar. Give arse and cock where you will, and often as it pleases you, but give not your heart. Arses and cocks can be used times without number and none the worse, but a heart, once broken, can be mended never."

In vain did I tell him that what Kit had done was done for love of him, for it was known well and by many that he had been Kit's boy, and had he sailed too, bound for Flanders, it would be suspected by those who wanted the death of his man.

"Suspect what they would," he sighed at me, "For I would have been in Flanders then, and safe with Kit."

"And dead soon after," I told him, "Think you that they who wanted Kit, wanted him to torture from him some secret that he knows, would leave you to live in blissful sodomy? Or that the Spider, knowing that others knew he lived still, would send not those like Povey after him, to do in reality what was done in mummery?"

When a heart is broken, reason flees and Piers sighed still for his lost lover. Fortunate it was that he found some little relief in the closeness of my body, though my mouth was never Kit's, even in his dreams as his seed flowed.

 

"Maid, I would have you wait on me when this is done."

The words were said from behind me, by one who sat in the close chairs at the stage side, and thus by one of some note for only such sat there.

I was, as always in the Jig, performing a servant wench and such words were not uncommon.

Many times have I earned some small silver from those seated there, for those did often want the service of a boy player when all was done, and those boys not apprenticed to a sharer in the Company did much need to augment their earnings.

This a jig longer and more bawdy than most; Will Kemp would have it so for the Company had just given Master Shagsper's Lamentable History of King Richard ll, a play that did depict the unkinging of a king, and one with no part for the buffoonery of Kemp, and he would have his hour upon the stage, and it were deemed good politick for playgoers to leave with bawdy and not treason in their minds.

The words, said to me, were heard by all, for such is the nature of The Theatre that any word spoke, be it in the merest whisper, will carry to all therein. How this should be I know not, for to me it is a thing of great wonder, but it is so.

Thus were they heard by Kemp, who saw at once a chance for further bawdy, for Kemp is not one to miss a cue, be it meant or no.

"No maid, pretty sir," did Will Kemp guffaw, "Think you a house such as this has maids? Any such who enter here stay not as maids, nor leave as such."

Shouts of laughter from the pit did greet Kemp's words, for all knew well that any dressed as woman on the stage had cock, not cunny, between the legs and any maidenhood, if such it could be called, that their arses once had was long since lost and gone.

"You wrong me," I did pout at Kemp, "I am not a maid would give her virtue freely."

"But sell it willingly enough were there such to sell," Kemp gave back, and it were a goodly line for, while it did produce much laughter in the pit, it gave me also cue to turn and speak to the one who had first spoken behind me.

"Oh, sir," I simpered, "I would that you would save me from such rough men as he."

I meant but to tell him that he would have me after, and the words came before I had truly looked upon him I spoke them to, but when I did so look my stomach fluttered and words more I could not say.

That he was a man of consequence there was no doubt, his apparel that of a nobleman, his features fine and fair. A small beard he had, pointed in a manner similar to that Kit had favoured, and upon his upper lip but little, and that in a thin line that widened his mouth to the eye.

"Save you I will," he smiled at me and his eyes gazed into mine, "For you make a pretty maid indeed, much to my liking."

I know not what did come after, for my mind was in a daze. Kemp spoke and I spoke, but what words I have no knowing, and I scurried from the stage as fast as I was able, hearing only shouts of laughter behind me.

A hand gripped my arm and George Bryan did whisper in my ear,

"Have care, boy; there is danger where you go."

"What danger, sir?" I asked, for I knew not what he meant. I would but meet a man of some birth and he would fuck me and pay me for my arse.

"I but warn you to be of care, for you will be pierced by cock of a station higher than any yet have entered you."

"He seems a man of birth, sir," I said, "And are not men of birth men of honour?"

In saying thus I did show that, much as I did know of the world, little I knew indeed, for what was the play just given but a tale of men of birth most noble, but of honour none.

George Bryan's eyes went beyond my shoulder and he made a deep knee, not in mockery of my foolish words, but to one who stood now behind me.

"My Lord," he said, his head lowered, "Your most humble servant."

Never had I heard Master George speak thus to any man and would have turned my head to see to whom he spoke now, but a glare from his lowered eyes did bid me do not so.

"No lord here," the one behind me spoke, "But a humble admirer of your art. Your Gaunt did much move me, Master Bryan, My thanks to you and all your company."

"You do me too much honour, sir," Master George did say, "The boy awaits your pleasure."

He did give me cue with his finger that I should turn and make a knee and so I made to do, though with much confusion, for though I knew from his voice it was the man who desired me for his pleasure, I knew not why he should come into the tiring house and still the jig not done.

I would have made a knee, but he prevented me with a finger beneath my chin and looked into my eyes with a look not like that given by one who desires only a boy's arse.

"By my trow thou makest a maid most fair,
But as a boy thou art yet fairer still."

He spoke as they were words from a play and I answered him thus, for I knew now how to take a cue and give it back.

"A maid if your wish be to have me so,
But yet not so made for I am truly boy."

"And as a boy I would thou always be,
For as a boy thou art indeed most fair,
And maid is none that can with thee compare."

"Maid is there none indeed, for I have that
Which maids may crave but never will possess."

Was ever boy from the Rookery wooed so? And in blank verse? My arse was his to do with as he would and not for silver, for he had captured more than arse that day!

He took me not to a tavern as I had supposed, but in a coach was I taken to a house and made ready for his bed.

In a hot bath scented with oil of rose, was I soaked and washed, and not one part of me was left without attention of cloth and soap, and wielded both by maids of years but little more than mine.

And maids they were, and laughed much when they washed that part of me that maids have not, and made comment that though I was but a colt my pizzle was that of a stallion grown.

Washed and dried, my hair brushed and scented like a bride, I was put into a bed to await the man who had claimed me for the night, and none too soon, for though I had yet to try the mouth of maid, I was sorely tempted so by their fingers that did flutter and tease.

Good it was that he did come to me soon, for I had a hardness on me that had no wish to wilt and much I had to do to make my hand give it not the attention that it craved, but come he did, and upon removal of the gown, which was all he wore then, I did perceive that he too had an urgency upon him.

He took me not at once, but did make much of my body with his hands, more than those who had used me before had use to do, and I must confess that I did like it much, and when he wished to make use of my mouth for his tongue, I did welcome him to so do.

He used his mouth in another place also, and though I made it plain that I was wont to seed, he made no pause, but expressed satisfaction when seed I did there.

He took me then, but not in the way that I was used to being taken, for he had me on my back, my legs parted wide, and took me in that way and used my mouth again for his tongue whilst he was in me.

In such manner had I never been used before, and much did I like it and did tell him so when my mouth was free to speak, and did so without fear, for in that bed there was a man who took delight in boys, and a boy may speak thus to such a man.

He used me in ways more than that and in times more than few, and did use my mouth also, and that too I did much like, aye and his seeding there, for I have no aversion to the taste of seed.

When the busy sun did fill the chamber with his light I did awake with sadness upon me, for I knew I had done that which Piers did counsel me against, and given more than only my arse.

An arse may be given to many men and none the worse, but `tis not so with a heart, and given once it is gone forever.

"Why sad, fair youth? Thou art not made for tears.
Thou bringest delight as the sun brings warmth,
And in thy glory would I bask longer."

Did he woo me still in verse? And in the morning too?

"How can that be? For I am but a base
Born boy, one made to please a man's desire,
A tarnished thing, no glory to be found."

I answered thus, with rhythm and with metre, but bitter too, though with myself, not he. He who I thought would fuck me more, and cast me from his mind.

I did weep then, for I did think of Piers and his lost love and he turned not from me but did hold me close and had my tale from me; how I had been bought for a shilling from the Rookery, of Piers and of Kit the scribbler, who did name him so, though for what reason I knew not, who Piers had loved and lost.

"A hard fate, to lose a lover so, slain in a tavern brawl over a mere reckoning for food and ale."

"Not so," I did deny, for my reason had left me, "He was not slain but lives still in Flanders, safe from those who would have had him dead, but lost so to his catamite."

"Speak we then of different men," he said, and meant the words kindly, "For when you named him `Kit' I did think of one who wrote plays of such worth that none will see the like. Aye, and one who loved boys much."

"All they who love not tobacco and boys be fooles," I said with a sad smile through the tears, for much I remembered Piers telling me he had once said that.

He held me then while my tears dried and the sun filled the chamber so the dust motes danced in its light.

"Know you not why he did name the boy, Piers?"

I did not, and told him so, but that it were a strange name for a youth from the Rookery to own.

"Because he loves me more than all the world," he said, "Tis a line from a play he made, and it would seem a name well given."

"Well given, indeed, for truly, Piers doth love him still."

"Now must you tell me all, for this tale of yours is but half told, and I would fain know of the rest."

"That cannot be," my reason came back as my tears dried, "I have spoken but foolish fancy. A tale to hide my thought; no more than that."

"A tale of love made by a Rookery boy who thought to sell his arse? Not so by my reckoning."

"A Rookery boy indeed, and one whose arse has been sold many times." My words were hot, the anger at myself.

"But was given not for silver this past night."

He kissed me then upon the forehead and my tears did start again, for he had perceived that hopeless thing I thought to have kept hidden.

"Torment me not," I wept, "But let me go, be it with silver or not."

"I do not think to let you go," he wiped tears from my eyes, kindly meant but it were a dagger to my heart.

 

"You must," I pleaded then. No anger now but fear, "I am a strand in the web of the Great Spider and I would not have you caught therein."

Many turns of the rack it would have needed to make me tell that, but the words poured from me, drawn forth by a soft caress. All I told him, for I was but a foolish boy, a moth to the flame of his candle. I fluttered too close and was consumed so.

He held me close, told me again that I was fair of form, that I shone too bright to be but a careless moth burned in flame.

"I am but a foolish, fond young boy," were my sad words, "Mistake me not for better."

"Not so," he said, and bid me rise and break my fast with him, and bring Piers to him at The Sign of the Angel close to noon that day.

Much did I think on that, for I had said that which should not be spoken of and mayhap put us in danger of our lives, for, as rumour had it, The Spider was not a man of great compassion.

But I had given my word, and though it were only the word of a boy from the Rookery, it were my word, and given to one who had taken my heart in thrall.

Though he were much afeared of that I had done, Piers held it not against me.

"Thy word is thy word," he said, "For if thou canst not be true to that then is there no worth in thee. Tell me of this man who would meet with me."

I told him then that he were a man of much means, and, by his words, he did know of Kit,

"For he did tell me he named you after one in a play he did make."

"Did he so?" and I knew by the manner in which his eyes misted that he thought then of Kit and that which had been lost.

"Aye, and wooed me also in the rhyme and metre of a play, and I did answer him in like manner."

"Then belike he is but a gentleman scribbler and knew of Kit in such a way. London teems with many of that kind."

"Aye, belike," I said, though I knew he thought not that, and no more did I.

 

We made our way to Bankside much in the manner of those on an unwonted journey to Tyburn, for there could be no escaping what fate now awaited us.

Neither run nor hide we could not, for if my foolish words did bring the Spider from his lair we were caught in his web, for it did stretch across the land and we would perish, held fast in its cruel grip.

Our anxious fears lessened not as we did near the tavern, for two did meet us on the outside, and though they did dress as gallants they had much the look of those who knew well how to use the swords they wore. Aye, and the knives they carried at their waists also.

But they did greet us fair and bid we enter the tavern before them, and waited then outside the door; no call for them to say we could not run from there.

Though a sign of angel hung above the tavern door and it was named so, none of that heavenly host were within, for though it were nigh to noon, but one table had men seated there, and of those, but two.

One was he who had wooed me and stolen my heart. No, not so, for he had stolen nothing. My heart had I thrown at him like a green boy, and he, like as not, had not perceived the throwing.

But he did smile and bid me sit, and much had I need to so do, for my knees were weak and my stomach in much flutter.

The other was a man advanced in years, and though the day be warm he wore a heavy cloak, trimmed with fur around the collar. His beard was full, and like his head, grey almost to white. His eyes were hard and his lips thin, a face not given much to smile. He seemed not like a man given to the use of boys, nor of maids either, for he had the look of a Puritan, and they like not pleasure of any kind, and would condemn all who do to the flames of Hell.

He, I thought, would take much burning there, for he was cold as ice, and I did fear him.

He took from his purse a shilling and placed it on the table, though he did so with such care I thought his fingers loathe to let it go.

"A shilling you paid for him," he spoke to Piers, "Take you this shilling for him now."

"Not so, my Lord," Piers did say, "Nor thirty times so much."

They were brave words, for it were plain the old man was one well versed in the scriptures, and words such as those were like to give offence.

"No Judas, then," the old man curled his lip, not in smile but sneer.

I know not if it were from the false bravery that fear brings, for that we were in danger there I had no doubt, but Piers quailed not under the icy glare of the old me.

"None such," he said, "A boy most basely born who lived once by his arse and now do procure Ganymedes for men's pleasure, I never yet, nor never will play any false."

"Words of little polity," the old man said, softly threatening, and indeed they were, for such words to one of the Puritan ilk were not like to please.

"I care not for polity," Piers stared unflinching at the old man, "For polity is but dissembling and lies. Oh, yes, my Lord, a boy who sells his arse knows of dissembling and lies, for when he moans in pretence of pleasure when he is used, that is polity indeed."

"What truth then to be found in one who pretends pleasure to gain silver?"

"A truth more cunning, and one none but an honest boy could show. Would not one who has paid a hard earned penny for the arse of a Ganymede feel cheated were he to think his prick but a worthless thing, the boy he paid uncaring were he fucked or no?"

"Sophistry worthy of a Jesuit," the old man hissed, for clear it was that he was most displeased that Piers should speak him thus.

"I know not of that, for Jesuits do I know none. I do but know that when I sold my arse I did so but to live. Aye, and sold it also for men's pleasure and if I took their coin my honour demanded that I give that pleasure, and false it would be if they found not that pleasure in me."

"Honour?" the old man sneered, "Can a boy who sells his arse, leads men into sodomy, have any honour?"

"Indeed so, for I and all my kind do promise pleasure to those who want such and they do hold to that promise. Is not honour but that one holds true to his word?"

I were in much fear that Piers spoke so, for it were plain that it were to no common man that he spoke so but one of much power and, by his looks, of little mercy. He who had captured my heart was of stern countenance and looked not on me, but gave close study to his hands that lay upon the table.

"And were you upon the rack, what then of your word?"

I feared then that I would piss myself for I knew by his manner that this cold, old man had power to put us there both, and tear our joints apart.

"Then I would say what men wanted to hear," and though his words were calm, Piers, I knew, was as afeard as I for there was no blood now in his face. "In such a torment a man will say anything in hope to be released from such agony."

"Have them taken to Tibbalds," the old man said, a decision made, though if it meant our death or not I had no knowing of, for of this Tibbalds had I never heard. "Get you there as well. I will send message in a week or so; there is much must be done."

He rose and left and I did feel greater need to piss, but with relief, for though the image of my body, stretched and broken on the rack was with me still, it seemed like we would live a little longer yet.

"So, fair youth, I must have you in my charge awhile. I pray it be not tedious for you." His countenance was smiling now, and I did think no time with him would be tedious, but much did I need to piss and said so and did run fast to the privy lest I shame myself.

When I did return there was meat and cheese upon the table and a jug of ale also, and colour once more in the face of Piers.

"Know you who it was that you spake so boldly to?" he did ask Piers as we supped ale.

"Only that he was one who has the power to have us dead," Piers answered, and though his voice was steady his hands did tremble, "I did not think to leave this place alive."

"And would like not have done had you not spoke so well. Master Kit chose well in you. He did ever have a fine eye for boys. As, I hope, do I."

He did place a hand on mine then, and though I was already his, he did claim me there.

 

He did claim me much also at the place called Tibbalds, and a great place it was. A full day in a coach from London, in the County of Hertfordshire, a palace fit for the Queen and of great wonder to a youth and a boy who had lived both by the selling of their arses.

I know not where Piers did spend his nights, though there were servant boys and stable boys many, but mine I passed in a great bed and never were they tedious.

Strange he was by name and strange in nature too, for though many men have used my arse, aye and some few shown passing interest in my cock, none did ever treat my body as did he whose catamite I now was.

Much did he use his mouth on me, and many times in a place I had thought only cock did go. That did give much pleasure to me and I did tell him, though it needed not for me to do so, that my body lived but to give him pleasure and that he should take it how he wished and it mattered not how often he so wished for it were never tedious.

Hours we did spend with mouths full, be it with tongue or cock, and never did I seed but in his mouth, and he many times in mine, for though he used my arse well enough, he did confess he liked my mouth more, and eagerly I did welcome him there.

Days did we spend at leisure, for that palace of Tibbalds was set in a great park, and, being summer, the weather was fair. Piers and I did learn to sit a horse and rode much in the park and woods there, for always in the day was Piers with us,

He had been charged, he said, to keep us safe, and could not do that charge were we not with him, and though it were some sadness to Piers to see us so together for it made him think much of Kit, he complained not and did find paths to walk alone for a while when the need was great upon us.

On a summer's day as we lay under a spreading beech, my breeches still unlaced, for Piers had taken too short a stroll, that he did say to Piers that he must make ready to depart.

"To London you must go on the morrow," he said as though it were a thing of no great matter.

"Why so?" Piers did ask, and with concern for the fear of the old man was with him still.

"Your fate is settled and you must go."

"And what of Ed? What must he do?"

"His fate is settled too. You both know of that no man should know and it is danger still. `Tis safe only if you be kept both under close guard, watched at all times."

"How shall this be done? Shall we be imprisoned."

"Aye, and bound with chains too, though I think you will find them of no hardship."

"You speak in riddles," I told him, "Make plain your words."

"Your fate," he said to me, "Is one I think you have no wish to escape," and he did place his hand upon my thigh, and I did wonder why that should be so, for though it were to Piers no secret that I was catamite, he did never touch me in such a way when not alone.

Piers missed not the placing of that hand;

"He has a sweet arse, and under closer guard I think he could not be put."

"Aye, and a sweeter mouth and a cock of great wonder. I will guard him close a'nights and in the day he is to be a player."

"How so?" I said. "Your catamite I am while you would have it so, aye, and more than willingly so. But this of a player?"

"A Company would have you join them. They play but little in London but do go around the country."

"How so? I know them not, nor they me."

"One of their number knows you well enough," he said and his hand did fondle my thigh there, though it were in plain sight of Piers.

"And you," he said to Piers, "Are to London, and take ship there to Flanders, where one awaits who has sworn to keep you close."

"Mean you that?" Piers asked and his voice did crack as he asked it and his eyes did glisten with tears. "It is not kind to make pretence of that."

"No pretence. One who is dead and lies in a Deptford churchyard waits you there."

Tears did flow freely then, and I shed mine for Piers that he should be with his love again, for it were a greater wonder than any play.

"My wife's grandfather is a man not given much to sentiment, but he has seen your worth and Master Kit does still the Crown some service. Your threads he has loosed from the Spider's web on condition that you accept your bondage."

I wiped tears from my eyes then moved his hand from where it still lay to where my breeches were unlaced still.

"I would show my acceptance here," I said, and placed my mouth on his while his hand did grip that which swelled beneath it. "And would say farewell to Piers also, were that to be permitted."

"And I my thanks, my Lord," said Piers, "Were that too, to be permitted."

"It is permitted," my lord and master said, "And what place more fitting than here and what time better than now."

Piers did fill my arse and my mouth with seed that I may remember him and my lord did say it were the sweetest thing he ever did see and I thought it the sweetest seed I ever did taste and did feel no guilt for thinking so.

When later I did confess that to my lord he said that there was no guilt to feel, for a boy may love a youth as well as love a man.

Now that is all but a dream of a midsummer day, for I am now a boy player of some note and sleep in my lover's arms at night, as Piers does with Kit in Flanders.

I would that all lovers could be so content.

 

isukwell@hotmail.co.uk

 

 

 

Argent, on a bend azure three buck's heads cabossed