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What a Boy Must Do

A series of short stories by Ivor Sukwell

Number four

The End of the Middle

Gold is for purity

 

"Run boy, run!"

And run he did, the urgent words of his mother spurring his heels to action, fuelling his dash from the humble cottage he had lived in all thirteen years of his life.

His mother would defy them, hurling curses and pretend spells at them as they clustered, baying for blood – his blood. She would hold them for a time, not for a long time but for a time long enough for him to make his escape, away from the village and towards the only place of possible safety. To the city, the huge city where a boy could hide unseen amongst hundreds and hundreds of other boys.

He had done no wrong; `Od's Teeth he had done no wrong! Unless a woman and baby now breathing when the village barber surgeon and his doctor friend from the town said they could not be saved was a wrong.

But it was a wrong, in their eyes it was a wrong. The doctor, a University man of medicine, and the barber surgeon, well-used to the application of leeches and bleeding with a knife, had pronounced that the woman was beyond help, would die in childbirth and had left her there, in their cottage, for his mother to ease her passing. His mother was a wise woman, skilled in the healing powers of herbs, but wise in the ways of men as well, never a hint of witchcraft whispered against her.

But he, a thirteen year old boy, had not let the woman die, had saved both her and her baby. His mother had allowed him to do it, for if he failed the woman would surely die. He had never done such a thing before, never tried to, though he had, in secret, done some such with animals, creatures already dead.

He had used the book, a secret, forbidden book, passed to him by his grandfather, `De Humani Corporis Fabrica', condemned by churchmen and Universities who followed traditional and, so his grandfather had said, mostly useless, medical theories where the humours dictated well or ill, life or death. His grandfather's father had been infirmarian in an enlightened monastery, before the long since dead fat king had destroyed all such.

Cast out from religious life he had married and worked, mostly in secret, at his life-long trade, passing down his skills and knowledge and the book that showed the insides of both men and women.

His grandfather had passed both to him, his father having died soon after he was born, and passed down also the skill of reading the words, words in Latin so he knew what those words meant. Herbs and healing were second nature to him and the book showed him what he should do.

He had done it, though it was his mother who lifted the still living baby from inside the woman and it was her skill with needle and thread that had stitched up the great cut he had made.

Though his mother was pleased that the woman and baby lived and were well, she was afraid for him, for she said that when it became known that they lived, doctor and priest would call it the work of the devil for such a thing was beyond their knowledge and their skill.

He was readied to run when the time came, run with the book, for his mother told him that somewhere in the big city he would find an enlightened man, a man who would know and understand the value of the book, a man who would use it to save lives.

He had no knowledge of how he should find such a man, how even he would live until he did, but he was a boy who could think, could he not speak more of that Latin than the University man who had but a few phrases that he spoke to impress with his great knowledge? He was a boy who would find a way, whatever that way might be.

Though he was running he was in no great hurry now, for he understood that a running boy would soon come to the attention of any who saw him and tell later when they were questioned. They would be questioned, his mother had made that clear in his mind. The University man, with his degree in medicine, would not accept that the woman and her child were alive by natural means and, in his understanding, no boy of thirteen years could have done what he had done unless it were with the aid of the devil. The stern, sin-spouting village minister – he refused to be named a priest – would instantly agree, the boy was the spawn of Satan he would cry, and the hunt would be on for him.

The Bishop, the Bishop who ruled all matters of the church in the big city where he must go, was known to be a burning bishop, and though the new king had set his sights against many burnings, the Bishop did not have full acceptance in the city, and the burning of a boy of thirteen would be a great public spectacle and put him in favour with a great many.

He had no wish to burn and so made his way openly and without hurry, the satchel holding that special book over his shoulder and held close like a thing of importance. He was so obvious, so easily seen and taking no care who saw him that he knew inside that none who saw him would so remember, for he was clearly no more than an apprentice boy on an errand for his master.

 

The city was both a place of safety and of danger. So many people, and so many boys who, like him, had no home and were common sight on the city streets. But danger too, for if he was found the Bishop would surely have him burned and crowds would gather to watch his burning, for the burning of a boy of just thirteen would be a spectacle that all would wish to see and enjoy. Pie sellers would sell all that could be baked, for all who gathered to watch an execution gathered so for a holiday, and though hangings were frequent and popular, burnings now happened but very rarely and all would want hot meat pies to eat while they watched a boy burn, watched the flames consume him.

Boys, his age and older and younger would slip amongst the cheering and jeering crowd, cutting purses and lifting what they could, for all men, enthralled by his screams and the lick of the flames, the crackle and hiss of his burning flesh, would be heedless of their valuables, thinking more of their enjoyment of his agony and the whores, girl, woman or boy, that they would after slake their heated lust inside.

And it was with such a boy he first became acquainted.

"New here," the voice of a boy said softly from behind him; "And not from the city by the looks of you."

He turned to see a ragged boy, perhaps a year or two older and bigger than himself, smiling at him from a pace or so away. It was not, he registered instantly, a friendly smile, more the smile a cat might make before its claws sank into a trembling mouse.

"Not from the city," he agreed, his mind working furiously for he knew by instinct wrong words would serve him ill.

"A country Ganymede seeking fortune on the city streets?" the question was sneered.

"No Ganymede," he answered, forcing his voice through the fear lump in his throat, "Nor seeking fortune neither."

"No Ganymede," the boy mused, slowly walking round him, his body a threat for he could see muscles were tensed, "Though pretty enough to be such."

He was indeed, pretty, his long, gold hair framing a face that village girls did envy, and though he had journeyed for a day and a half, sleeping in a hedge and now unwashed, he would still attract the attention of any man in want of a boy.

"I have been told so," he tried to smile, disarm the boy, "Though being so is not my choice."

"It would be mine," the boy said, his smile losing threat, "For with a prettiness like yours money would be easy."

"I had not thought to get money so," he said, and indeed that was so.

"And if you had, your face would not now be so pretty," the boy's smile widened and he brought his hand from behind his back, showing a wicked little knife that he then slipped into hiding in his ragged clothes, "For this place is mine and I allow no strangers to share."

"Then you........." he started and was cut off with a twinkle and a laugh.

"What else?" the boy grinned, no longer a threat, "Earning food with your arse is safer by far than cutting purses."

How to answer? That boys lay with men was not news to him; in the village he knew of several apprentices who so served their masters, and the minister who preached so loud against sin was known to indulge his own sin with boys who were all afeared of him.

The boy laughed aloud at his obvious confusion as he sought for words to say.

"You have no master and no home and unless the satchel you clutch so tightly is filled with silver and gold you have stolen, you will soon be hungry. How will you earn bread then? If you cut but one purse you will swing from the gallows for all men will remember such a pretty face."

"That I would not," he answered, emboldened by the boy who now seemed no longer a threat but friendly instead.

"How so?" the question was mocking, but still friendly.

"I would burn instead," he said quietly, knowing he was risking all.

"Burn?" the boy's voice held both awe and shock.

"Aye, burn. I have `spawn of Satan' called against me."

"A heavy thing to confess," the boy mused thoughtfully, "And not a thing to confess lightly, I think. If such a thing be cried against you I am thinking a call now for the constables would bring me money and still with my breeches on."

"And I am thinking," he said with boldness he did not feel, "That a boy who lives by his arse would not eagerly see another burn."

"How so?" the boy smiled widely, "Many a man would pay to cool his lust in a Ganymede's arse after such a spectacle."

"And such a Ganymede would be sick to his balls that he was earning so," he risked a smile of his own.

"This one would," the boy agreed, "Though not a wager I would willingly make on others."

He tried to stifle the sigh of relief he felt.

"And if indeed you were spawn of Satan, I believe you would not walk so in the city streets for your magic would be great enough to have you somewhere safer."

"I think that would be so," he agreed, relief clear now on his angelic face. "I know no magic and no spells."

"I think not so," the boy said, "For you can cast a spell on any man."

"I know not how."

"Come," the boy held out a now friendly hand, "I will show you it is so. I have a mind to eat and would think you also have such a mind."

"Indeed so, but no way to make that so."

"Come, learn."

He made his way through the narrow, filthy streets, staying close beside the boy who now seemed his friend, coming to the river side and scrambling aboard a ferry nearly full. He wondered how he should pay the ferryman, but there was no need, the man winking at the boy and noticing them not again.

"How is this so?" he asked, "That the boatman asked not for money?"

"He takes his payment in other ways," the boy grinned cheerfully, unashamed by his dealings. They left the boat, now on the south side of the great river, and came at last to a round building that seemed to him huge.

"The theatre," the boy said, sensing the wonderment beside him, "And inside we shall find what we seek."

A man, sweeping the floor before what he knew must be the stage, paused in his sweeping and greeted the boy,

"Welcome, master Robert. You come to sweep with me?"

"Not so, master Edward," the boy grinned, "Though should you wish to sleep with me you will find me willing."

"That I know," the sweeper laughed back, and turning his attention, said, "What beauty have you brought me here?"

"Beauty indeed," the boy agreed, "Though brought not for your prick."

"A pity, for he is a beauty indeed. Does he own a name?"

"Ralph Wigmore, lord," he said, knowing not how to address the man, who though he swept the floor was not, by his manner, a humble servant.

"Ralph is a pretty name to match a pretty boy," the man said, observing him with no casual gaze, "Though has need of no wig, I think." He laughed at his own joke.

"No wig, indeed," the boy agreed, at ease with the man, "But a hot pie."

The man leaned on his broom, his eyes atwinkle, "Not for my prick, and not I warrant, to sweep my floor, but for me to satisfy his hunger, though he will not satisfy mine."

"You may gaze your eyes on him while we eat," the boy offered, "And my arse in payment."

"A noble offer," the man guffawed, "Though I swear his arse would be sweeter."

He blushed deeply to be talked of so. But when the man called for an apprentice boy to fetch hot pies he understood the spells a boy could cast.

"And so, master Robert," the man enquired as they sank their teeth into fresh, hot pies and drank small beer, "For what reason have you brought me this angelic Ralph? If he is not for my prick he has no desire to be an actor."

"Indeed not, sir," he answered before Robert could speak, though his words were mumbled through a mouthful of pie, "I had no such thought."

"Why not so?" the man twinkled. "Robert would do well upon the stage, though he has always refused my offers, but a boy like you would make me good money. No matter the play, a boy of your looks would draw the crowds and make all dream of using your arse."

He blushed again at the mention of his arse, for he had never thought before that men might so desire it. Of course he knew that men used the arses of boys for that was the way of things and all knew that even the new king enjoyed boys that way, but he had never thought of his arse entertaining a man's prick or of being so desired.

"I could write a piece just for you," the man mused, "And the groundlings would cheer and lust for more."

"And, like me," Robert said, "He would be no more than a dumb show, for how does one learn the words without the art of reading?"

"I can read," he said without thinking, "And in the Latin also."

"Truly so?" the man paused, his pie half way to his lips.

"Aut habet homo ut sit sacerdos doctus Latine loqui?"

"Non sed pauci admodum Latine loqui puerorum bellorum. And before you say more," the man smiled, "I know my grammar is less than perfect."

"But enough to understand, sir," he smiled, liking this man, "And better by far than the learned man of medicine who would cry devil against me."

"I smell a story here," the man said, biting slowly his pie, "And stories I live by. Tell me yours in payment for the pie and Robert may save his arse for another time."

"My arse has a liking for your prick," the boy Robert chortled, "But indeed he has a story, though all I know of it is that they call devil on him and would burn him."

"Not this side of the river," the man said, his face now of a sudden serious, "Though if Satan is indeed called against you, venture not again to the northern bank, for the fire is no place for a boy as beautiful as you."

He liked the man, and the boy Robert had shown him kindness and friendship, Ganymede though he was, and ashamed of it not, and he remembered his mother's words that he would know in his heart who he could trust and he told his story.

"I have heard of that book," the man said slowly when his tale was finished.

"How so?" he asked, for his grandfather had said that the book was secret and forbidden.

"In this land it is indeed so," the man said, "But all the world is not as here, and a man who writes plays knows more than many men would think. Have you this book?"

And he drew the book from his satchel and gave it to the man who gazed on it in wonder and admiration.

"And this you can read, and truly did what you said?"

"Truly, sir; and now they would call Satan on me for so doing."

"You are indeed, then, in need of protection, and Robert did well beyond his imagining in bringing you here to me."

"You would protect me, sir?" he asked, hope in his voice.

"Not I, you need greater by far than I. Robert," he said, his voice now of authority, "You will sweep the Pit, and tonight you and your angel will sleep safe in the tiring house. I have business now to do."

"Is this safe?" he asked Robert when the man had left them.

"Safe as can be. Fear not, he will not cry constables upon you. He has powerful friends. Though tonight you are in great danger," he grinned through a face that was intended to be serious.

"How so?"

"Tonight we sleep in the tiring house, and I may be of a mind to call for payment for the service I have been."

"My arse?" he said, understanding at once.

"Perhaps so."

This was a new problem for him, though not completely new. That he may be called upon to use his arse at some point he knew from the beginning, though he had not expected it so soon nor with a boy. But he liked Robert and would not be ungrateful to him.

"If you so wish," he said softly, not wishing to seem eager to pay his debt.

"And perhaps not so," the boy Robert grinned, "Though I confess that I am fain to sample your prick!"

"And to that you are most welcome," he smiled when their laughter had eased, "For my prick is always in need of comfort before I sleep and I confess to a new desire to find the difference between the comfort I can give it and that it will receive from you."

"And that, you will find, is a matter of great amazement," Robert giggled in his ear, for now the boys both had arms around each other and were holding close and he felt a stirring in his loins at such closeness and wondered if it was needed to wait till night.

"Dark will not come for some hours," the boy Robert grinned in answer to his wondering, "Though the hours of darkness are few it being summer and you are no doubt weary from your troubles and would wish to sleep early."

"I find sleep does not come easy without my first........" he smiled in what he hoped was an inviting manner though he knew not what smile a boy should give to another in this instance.

"But first this Pit must be swept clean. Master Edward will be not well pleased if it is not so."

And when the sweeping was ended it was near to dusk and all others had left the theatre to them alone and the great doors were padlocked with them inside.

He was shy at first, though a strange eagerness mixed with that emotion.

"I would see you naked," the boy Robert urged, "A beauty such as yours has need to be admired in full."

"I knew not that boys.........." he searched for the words to say, "Men......some men......"

"Most men," the boy Robert corrected him, "And some find the enjoyment of boys greater than that of women and should we too wait till we are men before sharing that enjoyment?"

I know not," he confessed, "But should you wish to find enjoyment with me, it is a thing I am honour bound to allow it so, for you have showed me great kindness."

"Then let it be so," Robert smiled, though the light in his eyes was of lust.

Slowly he shed his clothing, standing naked for the boy to gaze upon and though his heart was beating fast it was not so only because this was a thing he had done not before, but also from a strange excitement that welled in him and made his prick rise without his bidding. And though his face reddened as his prick rose he did not cover it but let it stand in the view of the boy.

"Come," the boy said softly and led him to a place where they could lay together in comfort and when the boy shed too his clothes he found that he looked with a great intensity at his prick for it was the first he had set eyes on that was not his own.

The first too that he had set hand upon and when he did so a thrill of fire went through him, near as great as the thrill when the boy set his hand upon him. And amazing, unknown things were done to him, for the boy set not just hand upon him but mouth also and when his prick was taken into the boy's mouth he cried out in the pleasure of it.

And later, when their bodies were joined, his prick inside the other boy's arse, it was a wonder beyond words, though no greater wonder than when they changed and his arse was used so for the first time.

 

"And this is the wonder you told me of?"

He gazed in his own wonder at the man who spoke so, for never had he seen such a man. Master Edward had returned and called for them before the hour of noon and though they had long since clothed themselves the wonder of the night was still on him. This man was a wonder of a different hue. That he was young was clear for his pointed beard had no length to it, no more than a sharpening of his chin and it was the only hair he wore on his face. Tall and elegant in a fashion of clothes he had not seen before – a great balloon of velvet around his waist and thighs padded too, though below that the green velvet hugged his legs tight and showed his lower legs as though they were of green skin.

So much velvet and lace and in such colour! A man of uncountable wealth and not of the drab, Puritan persuasion that preached so against sin and saw the Devil in all.

"He, my lord," master Edward spoke with deference for this man was far above his status.

"A thing of beauty as of wonder, then," the lord lisped lightly, his eyes devouring him as he stood, almost trembling at being in the presence of one so great. "And you have a copy of De Humanis, with you here?"

"Yes lord," he croaked, his mouth dry at speaking to such a man, who stretched out a velvet arm, slender fingers waiting to receive the book.

Could this be the one? His mother had told him he would find one who would use the book for good, for healing, and if he were not so he knew he had no choice but to show the book, for the man had the power to take it from him whether he willed it or no.

"And what magic did you with this book?" the lord asked when he had taken it.

"No magic, lord," he said, his voice trembling and then, with sudden resolve, faced his fate bravely, for if he were to go to his death in the flames he would do so knowing he had done no wrong. "I did but cut a woman so her baby could be taken from her, for a man of learned medicine had said she could not be saved and left her to die in my mother's cottage."

"Did you so? And how learned you this?"

"From the book, lord," he said as bravely as he could and told all his story.

"Doctus mendacium, et docebat eos?"

"Et non est mendacium, dominus, et eos neque didici."

"Indeed they did not," the lord said softly, "A boy of unsurpassable beauty who cuts babies from birth dying women and speaks Latin as well as a Roman. You did well, Edward to tell me of him, and you," he said, pointing an elegant finger at the boy Robert, "Did well to bring him here, though no doubt you have taken your payment from him."

"Willingly given, lord," the boy Robert answered, seeming unafraid of the great man.

"Was it so?" the lord smiled, "Then perhaps I am in your debt twice. This," he said, "Is yours," and returned the book to him, "And this," elegant fingers tossed a small purse to Robert, "Is for your service and perhaps will keep your arse in your breeches for a while."

"The cry has indeed been raised against you," he said, "For I sent servants this morning to the north and they tell me there is indeed a hunt raised for a spawn of Satan and our worthy bishop there is no doubt busy gathering faggots even now."

The blood fled from his face as he heard the words for they were surely words of doom.

"What say you?" the lord asked him, "What now will you do?"

"I know not, lord," he whispered, his bravery long gone, "I sought only to save and to heal and now I must burn for it."

"Would you come with me instead of to the fire?"

"With you, lord?"

"No spawn of Satan, you, and safe with me where no burning bishop can touch you."

"He will have your arse," Robert whispered in his ear.

"And will that fear you? More than the flames?" the lord was smiling for he had heard clear the whisper Robert had made.

"No, lord," he said, his resolve now firm, "I will willingly be your Ganymede, though I would beg to learn more of healing, for that is my deepest wish."

"A boy in peril of his life who begs to save others. What think you of that, Edward?"

"That he is beautiful both in soul and face, my lord," the actor replied, a soft smile curling his lips, "Perhaps I will seek to write a play of him."

"Then all is resolved," the lord smiled again, "Save one thing. You, Edward, will take young Robert into your service. Though he may never act upon your stage he will do you well in other ways and his arse is good for a year or two yet."

It was a thing of amazement to hear a great lord talk so and a thing of greater amazement to know he had gone in such short time from being a boy who knew nothing of carnal matters to one who was to be catamite to a man of great standing and to feel no guilt in that.

A matter of joy, it seemed to his new friend, for Robert showed none but joy on his face when the actor indicated his consent.

 

He slept that night in a great bed, soft and with silken covers, though he slept late for his new lord allowed his body but little rest until the small hours.

He thought but briefly whether he was right or wrong; preachers cried damnation against all who did as he was doing, though those same preachers indulged in that same sin, if sin it were. His lord did not take his body against his will, he gave freely and his life was reward for that. And all thoughts of right or wrong turned to nothing when his lord lay hands upon him.

Hands stroked him softly, lighting fires in his belly, even more so than had been with Robert, and when fingers stroked, tweaked and pinched his nipples he thought no feeling could be greater. But greater was to come there, for when lips went where fingers had been and gentle teeth nibbled him there he near screamed with the joy of it.

And all paled as the sky pales when the sun has almost risen when his prick was taken into that mouth. Where Robert had sucked greedily like a baby on a teat, his lord lingered over his pleasure, savouring every inch of him and kneading his balls while he did so. And his balls did not escape that mouth either, for they too were licked and sucked and he knew not why his seed did not spurt save only that each time it neared so doing, his lord stopped and licked or kissed another part of him.

Why should it be so that his upper legs responded so when they were licked and kissed? And why, when his lord feasted his mouth on the softness under his arms that his prick begged to be held and sucked so? And when he was lifted and turned so his arse was in the air and he thought that tupping would come and his lord feasted there instead, the need to have prick where tongue was made him burn with desire.

Tupped he was, though not till he was weak with tiredness from the things he had felt, and though his lord's prick was bigger by far than that of the boy Robert, he felt but little pain when it pushed inside him, his arse too eager to be used to fight long against the intruder.

To be tupped by a man was the greatest joy a boy could have, there he had no doubt. Robert had but prepared him for the joy to come for his lord filled him far more than the boy had done and the more he filled the more he wanted filling. And when he was filled so he felt the brush of hair on the softness of his arse his lord moved inside him and he wept with the joy of it.

It happened not once but thrice before he slept at last, and when the sun rose through the glass of the windows and he made to rise so his lord would not be discovered with a boy naked in his bed, his lord allowed it not, but held him close and entered him again, and again spent himself there.

"You are mine now and I will not let you go, and when we have broken fast we go to the west where the land is mine and no harm can reach you."

He wept again then and wept more when his lord told him that there, in a city in the west, an apothecary dwelt with whom he would learn much and who would be joyed to overflowing by the copy of De Humanis. But though he would learn much from the apothecary he would live with his lord and share his bed at nights and have no fear of the fire.

And he went with the lord to the city in the far west, a city with a cathedral spire so high it touched the sky, and he was indeed Ganymede to that lord and thanked all the saints that he was so, for he gave his arse willingly, and pleasure it was indeed to have his lord enter him and use him for his pleasure.

 

 

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