Date: Wed, 2 Aug 2023 22:43:16 -0400 From: franz schubert Subject: The Squire's Tale Chapter 3 The Squire's Tale Disclaimer: This is a fictional story. If you're under 18 or live someplace where your'e not allowed to read about homosexuality, or think you might be offended by whatever, don't read it. Donate to Nifty! Chapter 3. Saint Sebastian's Prophecy and the Bewitched Candlecock At dawn my Master sent a page to fetch a barber, a doctor, and a cup of walnut oil. The barber was shaved clean. His cap had long tippets which he'd wound around his head like a turban. He carried his instruments in a covered basket and a flask of heated water. Sir John held his fat tube in his big hand . He let forth a strong and steady stream of piss splashing in the piss pot. So long and hard was his pissing, I feared the pot should overflow. The doctor took the piss pot in his hands and swirled the liquid around. He set it down and from his pouch produced a small spoon which he dipped into the pot. He sipped my Master's piss as if he were tasking sweet wine. He took many spoonfuls from the pot and swallowed the warm piss, making comments under his breath such as Hmmm, and Aha, and rolling his eyes upward as if pondering some great question of philosophy. Sir John, said he, I can detect nothing amiss with your piss. It is neither sweet nor bitter, but just right. And all this time the barber mixed walnut oil and soap and heated water together, and spread this lather on my Master's head and face with a brush of badger hair. He shaved Sir John in the fashion of the Norman knights, so that his head was hairless from the nape of his neck to the middle of his skull. And from that border the Norman's yellow hair grew thick. And the barber sheared it so that a yellow thatch extended from his pate and projected like a shelf over his high brow. Then the barber began shaving Sir John's face with great care, drawing his sharp blade along the Norman's noble face, while the doctor spoke learnedly about the humors. He began by explaining that blood produces semen, which then travels down the spine to be expelled. Semen must be emitted periodically, he continued, lest an excess stored in the body create an imbalance in the humors. Since the time of Galen of Pardemum, he said, doctors have agreed that men must engage in intercourse. Or, if unmarried, tolerate spontaneous emissions during sleep. You are 24 Sir John, said he. Find a wife, if you would maintain the balance of your humors. And he tapped the side of his nose sententiously. The barber finished with his task. He glanced at my long hair and downy cheeks, and put his blade away. And now it was the time for morning Mass. The priest murmured at the altar, and I soon drifted into a half-waking doze. Then, as in a dream, the tinkling Sanctus Bells signaled the Elevation, and the chants of the Brothers echoed in the Chapel and the Father raised the chalice. And a vision came to me of Christ's blood, that at the Last Supper his Blood miraculously changed its substance into Semen, and from the Holy Grail the Apostles drank his Bloody Semen-Wine, and it penetrated their brains and fructified their minds with His holiness, that their brains might give birth to His kingdom. And then a sunbeam set afire red glass in the chapel window and in wonderment I asked myself if this were a sign from God. The censors swung and the room was filled with smoke, and Saint Sebastian appeared to me in the cloud of smoke, naked, his hands lashed behind his back, blood trickling from the arrows in his sides and thighs, and as it trickled down his ribs and legs it became white semen, and the archers who had impaled him came to his body and licked the blood and semen that flowed from his wounds. And the pale Saint looked toward Sir John who knelt in prayer, and a light appeared around the knight and flashed and glowed and the Saint spoke to me alone and said, This knight will pierce your heart as the arrows pierce my flesh. Suddenly, silently, the bloodstreaked vision vaporized. And I remembered Saint Benedict's rule, Aure cordis, so I listened with the ears of my heart, and pondered Saint Sebastian's words. ***************************** My lector was Friar Brannoc of the Augustinian Rule from Penmon Priory in Anglesey. He was no less than 30 nor more than 35 years. Around his tonsured head was a crown of reddish hair the color of a carrot. His eyes were pale green and his face freckled. He was so lean that his thick black robe fell loose about him, and from his cincture a rosary dangled. He said not a word to me, but straightaway knelt at the prie-dieu, and dipped his fingers into a vial of anointing oil and made the sign of the cross upon his forehead, and he prayed with closed eyes and clasped hands. And after he finished his in nomine he came and sat at my side and with a soft voice said, Incipit lectio. And as we sat side by side he turned the leaves of his books and read in Latin. His mouth was wide and turned down at each end. He often glanced at me furtively, then quickly averted his eyes. And as he read he leaned toward me often, and touched my arm with his, and put his thigh next to mine. Brother, I asked, is it true that Brothers and Fathers are celibate? Ah, said he, the Chaplain of Chepstow Castle preaches chastity and inveighs against sins of the flesh. Yet he sodomizes all the young men of the castle who are willing, even the servants and the guildsmen. And you, Brother, has he likewise sinned with you? His eyes fell and he quickly denied my question in firm tones. Yet his cheeks turned rubicund and his freckles shone. Can you tell me then, Friar Brannac, how this sin is carried out? Can you show me what men do with each others' bodies? Nay, Thomas, thou must not speak of it. But I will draw it upon this slate so that thou canst know it, and not be led into temptation. For as Matthew sayeth, Spiritus quidem promptus est, caro autem infirma. Oh, weak, weak flesh! And he beat his breast most pitilessly. And with chalk he drew the figure of a naked man bent over. Behind this man he drew another naked man with an upright cock and ballocks hanging down. Then he quickly washed away the images with holy water. Now, Thomas, I shall stand as the first man in the drawing and bend over this desk, and thou lift up my robe. My cock sprang up at the sight of the monk's backside. What a fine arse you have, Friar Brannac, said I, so smooth and rounded are your buttocks. Now, Thomas take this candle -- and he handed me a candle of prodigious length shaped like a circumcised prick, the ridge of the cockhead tapering to the tip -- and dip thy fingers in the anointing oil on the prie-dieu and rub it on the candle and my arsehole. Now insert it slowly with a screwing motion. Slowly did I screw the candlecock into his bunghole. He tensed all over and his wide lips parted and he gasped. Do shove it farther, Thomas, farther up my arse. His voice was strained and strange. Obsecro et mini nunc, he cried. And he stretched his arms and gripped the desk's edge and spread his legs wide apart. The farther I pushed the candlecock up his hole the faster and harder Friar Brannoc's breath came until the wax prick went in as deep as could be, and he trembled and shuddered and gasped so violently, that I thought he might be infected with the falling evil or possessed by demons. And he reached behind and carefully removed the candlecock. His face was moist and ruddy and underneath his robe his sperm rushed out and dripped upon the tiles. Hic finit lectio, he said. He quickly gathered up his book and hurriedly limped away. Surely, I thought, surely this candlecock is bewitched, and possesses potent magic! And I made the signum crucis and fled. *****************************