LANCED-A-LOT
By: Silenos
This story is a work of fiction and involves teenagers in sexual situations. If that offends you, don't read it. If you are underage, don't read it (like that's going to happen). This story belongs solely to the author and may not be copied or reproduced in whole or in part without permission of the author.
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Dear Readers: If you are just coming to this the explanation of where it came from is at the bottom of the chapter. Those who have been following can ignore it.
LANCED-A-LOT: Chapter 12:
The return to Castlemount was fairly uneventful other than being met by Gallant's Knights who were crossing the ford as we passed. That put Michael and me in back with the other squires while the Knights caught up and met Idris. I did not ignore the number of eyes perusing me with more than one having a lustful look. Gallant had obviously chosen them from those of our ilk. Their squires and pages were no better and I suspected I was fresh meat to a pack of wolves; not that I minded as some of them were most appealing. I must say the surreptitious glances were mutual. Being enclosed in their midst did have a dampening effect on my ability to have a private conversation with Michael. Not that it would have mattered, he had a funny look on his face and did not want to talk anyway.
One of the other squires, a rather large lout, with spots and a nasty look from under greasy brown hair, rode up next to me and scowled "You're Sir Idris Squire?" He snorted derisively "you're no bigger than one of my spots. I suppose we shall find out what you are made of this afternoon with the master at arms." He was huge, nasty, and I paid no attention having no idea what he meant other than it reminded me I had to be on some sort of training field that day. The boy was a good 7" taller than me and at least 50lbs heavier, but he was still just a lout. He must actually have been of Knighting age; yet was still a squire. I ignored him as he spurred his horse on to catch up with his master.
When we entered the castle the other squires and Knights threw off their reins to a pair of stable boys, whereas Michael and I took our master's horses as well as our own to the stables, where a pair of twins, about 14 years in age, and adorable with brown hair and eyes, yet a cheeky blush to their cheeks. Once in the stables we were about to curry and comb our horses ourselves when we were interrupted by the twins groping their stiff lances with inviting glances our way. Clad as I was in nothing more than a long tunics they pulled them up to reveal their wares. Who knew where things might have gone? I saw Michael salivate and he began to say something before the doors to the barn burst open.
"There you are!" Roared the Master at Arms grabbing both Michael and I by our ears. "You two are showing up for practice whether you like it or not. I will have no shirkers in this castle." I wanted to fell him then and there but glanced at Michael who looked terrified. As the Master had both of us by our ears I feared more for Michael than myself. Regardless, the bastard dragged us out of the Castle through a postern gate to the small field around back where arms were practiced. "This is Brood," the idiot roared pointing at the same lout who had sneered at me on the way in. "I understand you rode in with him but instead of coming here, where you were supposed to, you were going to hide by playing at stable boys, or with them." With that he threw us to the ground.
"You!" He commanded. One on one with Brood so we can see your mettle!" The big oaf grinned. I breathed and remembered Da's words: "The first rule of combat is contain your emotions, the second is breath."
"Take these," The Master commanded throwing a wooden sword and shield at me. "See if you can match him! He's better than his master and his master is pretty good." The arse actually snickered at that, letting me know I had been set up. Brood, who as it turned out was the lout who'd insulted me during the ride in, charged at me like a dumb twat before I had a chance to properly grab my sword and shield. I responded automatically, dodging under his wooden blade and shoving my hand into his armpit, then throwing him over me. Normally this would just disorient or stun someone, but I held his hand as he went over and twisted as he fell, dislocating his shoulder. He screamed in pain, apparently not happy with the result of his attack.
Fighting and battle are much the same thing, except on the streets where what is at stake is not just your life but your purse, things are dirtier. To survive you need to have balance and know how to use their size and yours to your advantage if you wish to survive.
The Master was in shock, I went to pick up the wooden sword and shield and gave him a "come on bitch" look which angered him no end. He charged at me as I had hoped, unaware I had not secured the shield beneath my arm, rather I had just gripped the straps. I shield is something for clobberers, and the avoidance or arrows and lances, but can also be a weapon. Again, I stepped into a charge, swept under the blade only this time slung the edge of the shield up between his legs, smashing into his bollocks and sending him to the ground. Unfortunately I was not as well timed as I hoped and his sword had caught my brow making a slight cut. I ignored it, threw away my shield and put the wooden blade in my hand against his gasping throat questioning "Yield or not, there is still a point on this stick." I am sure he saw the fire in my eyes.
Unable to speak he simply pounded the ground. He knew I would have killed him if he did not. I was angry, and could feel the blood running again from my chest wound. The man had riled me: the only thing that makes me angrier me than a liar is a person who is stupid. There are those who have not the possession of their minds, those who are daft, and those who are simple, but I cannot abide the just plain stupid. My anger made me angry at myself. Anger is a fool's game to be played by such. It is a good way to invite death, I was disgusted with myself, I knew better. Throwing down my toy weapon I turned and walked away as those who had been watching stood, mouths agape, stunned into silence.
"Bug, you are bleeding!" Michael cried in a panic as he rushed to me.
"Nothing, and it is Jack I know no Bug." I panted, I was indeed bleeding profusely. Out of nowhere Lady Mandragora appeared from the flock of squires and onlookers.
"Bring him to Lady Marjorie's quarters!" She commanded, and none were so senseless as to deny her. Mandragora was not one to be crossed. So, with Michael's unwanted arm around me, I was led to the women's rooms where I was thrown on some sort of lounging chair full of pillows sewn in. I'd never seen anything like it. Their rooms looked the same as our apartments only in another house and better furnished. There was also an adjoining door to the next chamber from which Ladies Marjorie and Lillian came in. The two emerged hand in hand and looked on me like I was a wounded puppy, immediately gushing over my body, kissing my forehead and all while Mandragora tended to me in a no-nonsense way. After removing my belt she pulled my ratty tunic over my head leaving me naked. I think it somewhat shocked the ladies as those of their class assumed someone like me, a Squire, would at least have some sort of undergarment. It was quite funny as they all stood back, gasped, and covered their mouths in curious horror. I doubt, other than urchins in the street, they had ever seen a real phallus before. Except of course for Lillian and Mandragora, but they might not have had a good look at the one they saw as it had been crammed violently into Lillian's cunny at the time.
"Michael!" I cried, dramatically throwing an arm over my bleeding brow, "Go fetch Sir Idris and let him know what woe has befallen me." I am sure he was grateful for the excuse as he fled the room like a rabbit with a hawk on its tail. I was about to start speaking to the ladies, except they turned into mother hens. Ignoring my protests, they stripped me of my bandage and began washing my wounds (vinegar again), fluttering about me and clucking. You would have thought I was morning feed in a barnyard from the way they went on. In no time my head and chest were bandaged in linens. LINEN! The thought struck me like a bolt of lightening. Flax, that is what Idris could grow on his new lands!
"He has no hair down there!" Squealed Lillian as she anointed me. "How old are you anyway?"
"Yes he does, but he's shaved it!" Corrected Marjorie then looked at me curiously asking "Why do you shave it?" I rolled my eyes and was about to explain when Mandragora interrupted her.
"Who did this; made this poultice?" Mandragora asked ignoring Marjorie's question while examining my old bandages.
"Um, an old woman in a village on the way here. Her name was Agatha, like my pony. She is a healer woman, I think a witch, and she likes her ale."
Mandragora laughed, "She always did, if it is who I think, she was my nurse and companion until I came here. I thought she was still at home; or dead." The others started clucking about nurses and how difficult it was to be away from family and home; women's chatter.
I was going to ask her more, but realized we had little time. "Ladies!" I exclaimed standing up naked but for the bandages, "We have little time before my lords arrive. We must have words."
"He's right my doves," agreed Mandragora. "I have told you we spoke last night." I nodded at her, acknowledging I would not embarrass her with the details before she went on. "Gallant and Idris are like us, they prefer their own ilk to us. Which is to say, men to women in their beds. These marriages will be of convenience only."
"Hah!" Scoffed Marjorie. "How then will they produce heirs if they do not mount us?"
"That will have to happen, but only at the times when you are most likely to conceive, and only out of duty. Trust me when I say they will think the act as abhorrent as you." I thundered in a growl I can summon which sounds nothing like me, but which comes easily and frightens most. "The wedding of Lillian to Idris will be announced tonight and will happen this Sunday. All of us must talk at greater length. But where and when?"
Mandragora again spoke up "We were to meet in the Pleasure Garden today but you were wounded. Perhaps tonight after the announcement we can all sneak there and `happen' upon each other?" I nodded agreement as there came a pounding on the door. Mandragora opened it to have Idris, Gallant and Michael all stumble in. I stood there naked, half engorged (they may have been ladies, but they had been fascinated by my accoutrement and I was only 13, an age when a gust of wind will bring it up), and blushing.
"Where is he?" Idris demanded, then saw me flanked by Margorie and Lillian, "Oh, your naked!"
"Well how else were we to tend his wounds?" Asked an annoyed Lillian.
". More important," demanded a scowling Marjorie, "what do you mean by barging in to a Lady's rooms Sir Gallant!?"
He stuttered for a moment before regaining his composure "We, um, were told the boy had been injured and were concerned for him."
"Concerned or not, it is unseemly to enter ladies apartments in such a manner, out with the lot of you!" Commanded Mandragora shooing us not just out of the rooms, but down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind us.
"But, but," I protested, "My tunic!" The three others looked at me now naked out in the open in a place where one shouldn't be naked. They covered their mouths and tried hopelessly not to laugh. I resolved to get even with the ladies and just said "Very well then, I suppose I shall have to make do with the only one I have left in Idris' room." I stalked proudly off across the long path to the guest's quarters. The others, realizing how embarrassing this could be to them, scurried to catch up but I managed to stay a pace ahead. I wonder what people would think if they saw three men chasing a naked boy and snickered to myself. "Supper tonight should be most entertaining" I thought.
This tale came to me from a wealthy friend who found it bound in his family's extensive bookshelves. Nobody could read it as it was in a strange hand and written in a mix of the common tongue and Norman French of its day. His family has lived in the same place, if not home, for centuries and are what one might consider landed gentry. My friend brought it to me in hopes I might be able to transcribe it into the English of our own time as that sort of thing is what I do. I have updated it only in that I have made such things as measurements, expressions, and such understandable by our reckoning today. What I found in my labors was quite startling. It would be wise for the reader to remember that mores were different then, and that the perception of "age" was as well. Average life expectancy was about 33 years, and people were smaller too, the average height being about 5'7". Insofar as I can tell these pages were written after the Norman conquest, but not by much. England, Scotland, Wales and Cornwall were all very much their own kingdoms, with petty kingdoms within, and Vikings could still be something of a nuisance in some parts even though history says their terror ended in exactly 1066.