Diary of a Sentimental
There's a bit of artistic license involved, but then again in what fic is there not?
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, too bad for me.
Chapter 1 "To Trudge"
Trudging, however noble, was an extremely exhausting and undignified pursuit for a writer of my calibre. But then again, I hadn't had all that much choice in the matter. The road was long, but my pride was longer, this would end how it would end. And I prayed to god it would do soon.
It was over four hours since I'd left the last town, nameless but for the shame I associated with it, setting off across countryside in search of my last shred of dignity, if, indeed, it existed at all. All through that time, I had walked- walked and thought, as writers tended to do, of places more pleasant than this one. Places in which a soul as unfortunate as myself could be rescued by a white knight in shining armour with simply one flick of their mighty golden tendrils. Ha, like that was likely to happen.
"Morning" I bowed through the group of travellers ahead, looking as weary as myself, but in possession of a damn site more clothing. ".Morning" I repeated, barely glancing at their faces. I'd lost count of the amount of similar groups I'd passed, head up unashamedly, inwardly smirking at their looks of unabashed surprise. As no doubt you will realise, dear reader, as this tale unfolds itself in front of your engrossed and devoted eyes, I've always been an exhibitionist at heart.
"Oi Sir" This motley group, however, was obviously not struck dumb by my apparent nudity as a powerful voice from behind my naked back called out to me in a way that meant not to turn would have been an injustice in itself. And so turn is what I did, and in so doing made the most important of my many mistakes that day.
Ha! I know what you're thinking, my many and so avid readers and fellow appreciators of great and humble writings. Forsooth turning to greet a man who is clearly more interested in your well-being than your naked trudging across the deserted moorland is barely a mistake at all. Surely the pursuit that caused the aforementioned unclothed trudging is the more unforgivable of the two? Well, dear reader, for that well-meant and naïve opinion of my situation you can be forgiven, for to the onlooker of such an event it would seem as though your opinion would be correct. But for a free spirit of my particular breed, the turning of my head at that moment meant a world of mistakes. For as I did turn I met with a glance the very figure of a man that would change my life, my destiny, my naked trudging, forever. And I was caught. Caught in that face. So fair a face. My fair knight.
"What are you doing?" A simple enough question, and one which I met with amusement, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach that meant I could no longer walk away from the group with merely a amused smile and light- hearted wave.
"Err, trudging" The group looked unimpressed and not a bit understanding "You know, to trudge? To trudge the slow, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in his life except the impulse to simply, soldier on." Only blank stares met the onslaught of my creative genius, a reaction that is not all that uncommon I have often found. Oh well, I console myself; all true intellects can never be appreciated within their own time.
"Were you robbed?" Oh, such innocence, I laughed unto my self. How could a man so powerful, be a man to untainted, so untouched by the contaminants of the world, so ready to believe what he wished in order to block out the true horrors of human temperament?
"Err, interesting question actually" Or more specifically an interesting question to answer. "Yes, and at the same time, a huge resounding no" turning to face him again I congratulated myself on my artistic abilities "Its more a sort of involuntary vow of poverty really. But on the brighter side, trudging does represent pride- pride, resolve and faith in the good lord almighty. Please Christ rescue me from my current tribula." And I stepped on a thorn. Perfect, that such a savage object could pierce the long-numbed sole of my foot in such a manner that mimicked exactly how the force of that one mans stare had pierced my very soul. And when I was in full artistic swing as well.
"Who are ya?" It was an important question, and delivered well. Why not such a question be so direct and to the point? It also meant I became aware for only the second time that the strength of the group was more than just the one amazing being at whom I was trying hard not to stare.
"Lily mon suspicious, Lily among the thorns" I greeted the other members of the trio. Did I say also that I was quite the comiqué? "Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writings the game" Perhaps with this crowd the more direct approach would be the more lucrative, I was mistaken "Chaucer? Geoffrey Chaucer? I write?" Another loaded pause "What, what? A writer! You know, I write? With ink and parchment?" These were by far the toughest and most ignorant group I had had the pleasure to come into contact with, but oh, who they included. "For a penny I'll scribble you anything you want, from summonses, decrees, edicts, warrants, patents of nobility, I've even been known to jot down a poem or two if the muse descends. You've probably read my book, 'The Book of the Duchess'?"
I received nothing but two blank looks and one radiantly delicate look of intrigue.
"Fine, well it was allegorical." I gave up.
"Well we wouldn't want to hold that against you, that's for each man to decide for himself" The somewhat, larger, figure of a man who had asked, none too indirectly, about my identity earlier said with passion. It was then that I started to realise that this group were rather more perceptive than I had given them credit, even if he had got hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick, to the point were it confused us all and only in hindsight did I perceive his meaning. At the time, something else arose that caught my attention.
"Did you say patents of nobility?" The angel spoke once again, this time with more fascination in his voice than power. I allowed a slow smile to cross my face as I recognised finally my way into this heavenly embodiment's presence.
"Yes, that's right I did" For the first time I truly studied his face, and recognised a man not dissimilar to myself, a man on the outside, wishing with all his heart to find a way in, a way in and a way up, to change his stars. Suddenly I was seized by the urge to meet these souls who I had met on a coincidence and would love on a lifetime.
"And you gentlemen are.?"
"Well, I am Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein from Gelderland and these here are my faithful squires: Delves of Dodgington and Faulhurst of Crewe" After delivering unto me the most unbelievable of identities the angel motioned first at the larger of his two followers, and second to the lankier. I smiled in response and put out a hand.
"I'm Richard the Lionheart, pleased to meet you" I couldn't contain the laughter in my voice "No, wait a minute I'm Chardamay, no, I'm St John the Baptist" I must admit by this point the heady touch of his hand on mine had possessed me with the joke and I somewhat overdid it.
"Alright. Hold your tongue sir or lose it" And suddenly he was above me, my naked body pushed back onto the grass at the tip of a dagger. His fair face rose over me like the heavenly creature it was, halo of hair framing his face with the power of the mid-day sun. Oh how saintly he looked, how like the knight of my dreams.
I held up my hand to him "Now that," I smiled at his determined face so close to mine "I do believe. Sir Ulrich" and for whatever reason this he was contented with, and he drew away, sheathing his sword.
"Thank you, Geoff" And oh how the angels sang out as his gentle mouth formed my name, that low, beautiful honey-dripping-from-the-comb voice. So perfect and smooth, sweeter than light and warmer than the brush of summers sun on naked skin. A voice that commanded angels like armies, and saw the Lord turn in the sky and look down upon the being that he made and covert the very perfection of its tone and inflection. And. You will stop me if ever I become too sentimental, will you not? For I wouldn't want to bore, however artistically brilliant my lovesick ramblings may be. Luckily for you, dear reader, my devoted reverie was broken by the so-called 'Delves of Dodgington'.
"Have you any more to say, master nude, or, having failed your test, may we be on our way?" Oh they did not know me yet, for at any one time I have a hundred more things to say. But at this moment, the import of halting their determined strides away from my naked self meant that the thing I did impart to them had to be carefully chosen in order to keep them from walking back out of my life.
"Oh you're off to the tournament are you?" Probably not the most beautiful of comments I could have made at that moment, but in the end, it did the trick. At first, however, all it did was spark the attention of 'Faulhurst'.
"This is the road to Rouen is it not?"
"Well, you know" I said, immediately dismissing the idea to pun on the similarity of his words to "Road to Ruin" in the fact that they were clearly not likely to understand and truly appreciate the subtlety of the joke "That remains to be seen, see they're limiting the field at Rouen, noble birth must be established for four generations either side of the family" Finally I'd got their attention once again "Patents of nobility must be provided" If I do say so myself, it was as devious a scheme as any I have ever come across, before and after the time in question.
Thoughtfully I chewed on my lower lip and watched as the angel battled with indecision. What to do? He asked in his gentle sigh, and with his glance at the ground in desperation he called out to me.
"Listen" I spoke after a moment "Clothe me, Shoe me, for goodness sake feed me, let me ride that horse a bit and you will have your patents" And I will have everything I desire, oh angel of my eye, for you will be close to me, close enough, perhaps, to call me "friend".
They turned away then to talk amongst themselves, the angel in their midst obviously the leader of the group, the one in which they looked to for the deciding vote upon my credibility. It was a few moments later when finally the 'Faulhurst' of the group broke away, to the ominous tune of:
"Be nice"
Which he proceeded chant under his breath as he strode unassuredly towards me, not something that one wishes to hear when sat vulnerable and naked upon a grassy verge at the edge of a road- destination unknown. However, I was relatively confident that this small object was of little to no threat, a feeling that was intensified as the other members of his group neatly exploded into laughter behind him as he delivered his threat.
"Betray us," He said, with surprising determination "And I will fong you until your insides are out, your outsides are in, your intrails will become your extrails." And then with copious amounts of nervous mumbling he finished with: "Pain, lots of pain"
I had soon decided that when such a small man was so wound up it would be a mistake to point out his errors of punctuation and vocabulary. Especially the fact that to my knowledge the word "fong" had never, and was never likely to grace the confines of the English language. Nor the French one, I doubt not.
So that was that, one warning and I was in, part of their merry band no less. Within what seemed like instants clothes were arranged, and produced neatly from the back of their cart as if, instead of would-be knights and squires, they were in fact a pack of travelling magicians, bent on changing the lives of more unfortunate souls, randomly roaming the countryside naked and starving. Which brings me neatly upon the next item upon the agenda, the food, swiftly produced upon one word form the "knight" (and I say it so in the fact that although he may be one at heart, he was nothing until my patents made it so. if I do say so myself) who was fast becoming, in my eyes, the guardian angel of my very existence.
"So," I said, after we had sat in companionable silence for a few moments, staring out at the countryside that lacked nothing in beauty, especially when it encased the being I now sat beside and addressed completely, in a roundabout sort of way. "Perhaps its time I knew who you were?" I looked around at the three that surrounded me, merrily munching on the bread and cheese they had allegedly purchased from the very town that had seen my clothes demise. "And do not try to fob me off with some story of knights and squires, I think perhaps now you owe me something a little more than elaborate stage names."
'Sir Liechtenstein' chuckled at my side. It was the kind of laugh that embodied the word "chuckled" in such a way that I felt it was necessary to use it in order to put across the true sound of his amusement, it was not by choice that such a word had to grace the lines of this paper, you understand.
"You do have quite a mouth on you Mr Chaucer" He said through his smile, a wide grin of a smile that made the warm bark of his eyes glitter in the sunshine.
"Geoff, is fine" I said with a smile, before inclining my head slightly and adding "Sir Ulrich" with such a mocking tone that, although the angel himself may cling to the fantasy that he was, in fact, of noble birth, the other two of his travelling posse became tired with the notion that he out- ranked them and started to relay the tale of their being there.
"His name is William," 'Delves' began, bringing me back to earth through the intense dark pools of 'Williams' eyes, "I am Roland, and this is Wat" Roland continued, motioning to himself and then to the third member of the group. "We're on our way to Rouen to pose as nobility and win some money, there's no harm in admitting it"
"And you plan to make this money jousting?" Surely there is nothing wrong with a man who, when faced with such an unlikely group of people, is somewhat unconvinced by such a tale?
"We plan to make this money jousting" Roland repeated, assuredly.
"What is it out of that fact that you find so hard to believe?" That voice again, pure golden honey on a warm lazy summers afternoon.
"Well, I mean, it's a bit of a thing to have to believe don't you think?" I squinted through the sun to face him, his face emitting just as much purity and light as the sun himself "Can you even joust?"
"Of course I can joust!" Tension was rising.
"He better be able to, or we've suffered for nothing" Wat mumbled angrily from beside me, only serving to increase it.
"You know how good I am Wat," William turned from my stare to face his friend "We could beat any man in France if we so wished"
"You mean you could beat any man in France, we'd just stand there and hold the armour"
William fixed him with a kind of stare that could have wilted flowers, if they were tall and fair and went by the name of Chaucer.
"What are you saying Wat?" And oh how richly smooth his voice when he was concerned.
"I'm saying that I'm fed up of being the little guy when you get to be the Lord, sat up on your high horse like that" He was scrambling to his feet, anger getting the best of him. In his childish outburst I was quick to inwardly praise him of his use of metaphor, but soon realised that it was not, in fact, intentional. "Who said that you got to be the great Knight anyway? No one, that's who! But there you are, prancing around, introducing yourself as Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein" If it was humanly possible to heap more scorn on such a phrase he would certainly have managed it "It's a stupid name if you ask me." And he left, stomping off across the field.
"Well, it was quite an exit" My dramatic mind stated without so much as a second thought, I received only angry stares from the remaining two of the group before Roland scrambled to his feet in much the same ungainly fashion as his friend.
"I'd better be going 'n checking on him then" He bowed out of the group "Wouldn't want him doing himself damage"
So then we were left, the angel and I, sitting atop a grassy ridge, chewing contentedly and staring down at the valley below us- spread out in such a fashion that it seemed to be presenting itself for the approval of this deity beside me. It was one of those moments that had the power to humble even the embodiment of exhibitionism that I myself have grown to be in my few and humble years. Yes, for once, this artiste, that, at any one moment, has ten thousand words swimming around within his literary mind- had nothing to say.
"I never knew that was how he felt." And William, my dear, dear William, hurting as he was that such a close acquaintance would harbour such deep and spiteful feelings towards him, could only sit and stare, and wonder at his own naivety.
"Surely it was obvious?" I asked after a few moments, staring out at the fields before us.
"What was?" A beautifully innocent enquiry.
"That he should feel like that."
"Why should it be?"
"You need to see it from his point of view." I dared a glance into the warmth of those brown eyes and found myself caught, as I had been eternally those long minutes before "Imagine, if you would, that you were Wat and Wat were you, how you would feel to watch your friend and confidant become your superior? Your better?"
"I am no better than he," He answered quickly, breaking my gaze to stare out at the world submitted for his own approval.
"According to the law. according to the patents you have bid me design. you are" My tone was gentle, the kind of tone you would adopt when talking to a small child, or frightened animal, tender, caring- totally and completely in adoration. For not only was this being the most perfect of all souls, but he believed himself not to be, a quaint and attractive trait in any man.
There was silence for a long while in which I watched his blonde head fold to the ground, staring for some time at a single blade of brilliant green grass. Oh how I wished to be that grass, so small, delicate and yet so absorbing to the one creature I wished to pay me such attention.
"I'd not seen it that way," A pause, in which I physically held myself back from holding him in my arms "I suppose it's only right that he is angry"
"I agree that he has reason, but there was no calling to take it out on you so savagely." Indeed, if I had it my way, my dearest William, none would be granted to hurt you so. But I did not bring myself to say it out loud; there are some things that even exhibitionists cannot say. "I think, perhaps, all he needs. is time." Tentatively and as casually as I could manage I reached out a hand and dropped it onto his shoulder, ignoring the purely imaginary sparks that flew at my touch. "Rudolf will do the job"
And suddenly he was laughing, a laugh that lit up my world in such a way that put the sun to shame, and caused the stars in the heavens to collide with one another in pure delight.
"Roland" He laughed, patting my hand were it still lay on my shoulder, the brush of his skin on mine enough to make any lesser being swoon and fall to the ground at his feet. "His name is Roland" A long pause in which his merriment subsided and he let his hand relax across mine to the delight of each and every nerve within my body "And I do hope your faith is well placed, my dear Geoff, I really do"
Trudging is never quite so exhausting or humiliating when preformed fully clothed amid a group of similarly occupied souls. Perhaps it has something to do with the herding instinct of man, or perhaps just the modesty bestowed on us by the forbidden fruit. Whichever you choose to believe the aforementioned statement is perfectly true, even if one quarter of the group is not communicating with any other but the figure that plods gracelessly by his side.
"Roland?" The quarter in question enquired "Would you mind asking His Highness over there if we could look for a place to stop for the night, one is getting rather tired" His attempt at a more dignified dialect had disastrous results, not that his point was not a valid one, one that I was certain most of the group, including myself, had been pondering for quite some time.
Roland, being the tolerant fellow that he was, immediately drew breath to relay the question to the angelic William (trudging dejectedly across the group from the wronged Wat) who cut him off before he had chance to speak.
"Thank you Roland, I heard what he said" With the manner of an increasingly intolerant school teacher he turned to face the red-head "We will stop as soon as we find somewhere suitable Wat, let me know when such a place presents itself to you"
If I had never known a stony silence until now I would surely have recognised it at that moment. Wat looked away, staring angrily towards the grassy verge as he plodded along, head down. Will also turned away, his brown eyes more anxious than his former friend's, filled with a look that made one want to throw their arms about him and protect him from all the Wat's of the world.
It could not have been a quarter of an hour later that Roland first observed the barn in the distance, set back a little way from the road and offering in its hay packed lofts exactly the kind of comfort four weary travellers needed to ease their tired bodies. It seemed only moments before we had tied up the horses in the shelter and climbed into the straw, taking out the last of our supplies in relative silence.
"Do you realise, master Chaucer, that you have not said a word in almost a full half hour?" Roland asked. My somewhat, overly exercised mouth and vocabulary had already become a running joke with the group, who made it their duty to comment on my silences in order to spark my one-sided conversation back into full flow. It was not, I had soon realised, just me that was uncomfortable with the silence that had befallen on such seemingly close and intimate friends.
I smiled over at him, shrugging my shoulders dramatically "For once the writer is struck dumb." I said, pausing to take in each of their faces, before continuing powerfully without so much as acknowledging the fact that I had stopped ".by such a foolish and useless rivalry. Surely you, my dear Wat," I said, addressing the fellow in question "would not begrudge William the thing he has wished all his life, when not only he, but you also, will benefit from it if it is to be successful?"
The group were clearly not expecting me to be so serious in my response and stared solidly at me for a full minute before the gaze shifted across to Wat and he was prompted to reply.
"I just don't see why it has to be 'im," He paused- Wat was a man of simple words "We've all dreamed of being knights, why should it be 'im that gets the honour?"
A pause, in which my literary mind replayed all the possible responses I could give him.
"Have you ever thought, dear Wat, that it is you that has the honour? The honour, I tell you, without the pain. The riches without putting your life on the line at the point of every lance? You are his faithful squires, ready in a crisis, but not inside of one each time you mount your horse."
"And have you ever thought," Wat said, standing angrily "that it's none of your damn business?" and he marched away as respectfully as he could across soft hay, stumbling only once.
"He holds a fair point." I admitted, turning back to the others as he disappeared into the darkness. I shrugged "I tried my best"
"And I thank you for it" William said rising and dropping a hand on my shoulder in such a comradely fashion that made my skin tingle and my head soar among the rafters. "But, I think, for tonight at least, he's a lost cause. Goodnight" And he disappeared into the darkness in the opposite direction from the one Wat had stumbled. Roland and I watched him go, before turning back to each other.
"Don't you think you should go after him?" I asked after a moment of contemplatory silence.
"Who? Wat?" He paused "No I don't think so. He'll be quite alright by morning if we give him some time to stew on his own" He chortled to himself for a moment "He's always finding new subjects to worry himself over, I'm just concerned this one may have struck too sore a nerve in master William" I nodded slowly to the floor, before looking up as I realised Roland's gaze lay on the top of my head "Don't you think you ought to check on him?"
"Who? Wat? No I don't think so" I mimicked his response "Whatever 'fonging' may be, it did not sound a particularly pleasurable experience"
Roland chuckled again.
"I meant Will, he'll be needing someone to talk to I doubt not, and you are by far the most qualified man for that job"
I laughed and stood, quite unable to contain the feeling of pleasurable surprise that came from being wanted.
"Well, I'm glad I've found something I'm useful for" And I turned to seek out my lonesome angel, to the warm tones of Roland's quiet amusement.
"You have a point you know" I found William moments later, stretched out in the straw, arms folded behind his head as he watched the stars through the holes in the roofing. I never would have found him in the darkness if it had not been for those holes, and the way the moonlight played through the gaps to bathe his halo of hair in a warm glow.
"Of course I do" I replied readily, settling myself into the straw beside him, sat up to appreciate the full magnificence of his figure stretched out before me "What point would that be then?"
"Those things you said about putting my life on the line at the tip of every lance."
"Oh you don't want to listen to anything I say," I laughed gently, cutting him off "Most of it's nonsense anyway,"
His smile was broad, teeth glistening in the faint light
"Perhaps that's not the best thing for a writer to confess"
"Perhaps not, but it doesn't make it any less true." I gazed down at him with a secret smile "And in my experience most writers are exactly the same"
He laughed, "I shall remember that"
There was a companionable silence for a few moments in which we studied our respective directions, his up at the heavens, mine down at the heavens.
"It wasn't nonsense," He said after a long while, his voice as rough and smooth as the wash of the ocean rolling over the soft sand. "My master -our master," He laughed gently, more like a sigh than a show of amusement "God rest his soul- died from injuries caused by the joust. That's how I came to take his place"
"I thought as much" A slow and gentle response on my behalf.
Slowly his eyes slid across to meet my own, and I soon lost all ability to ignore the energy that flowed there.
"He. I." He started, before giving up and gathering his thoughts "Am I a fool, Geoff," his gentle tones asked, "for wanting something so badly? Even at risk of my own life?"
Oh William. How you do you, so simple, so naïve, sum up the very call of my soul, the very plea of my heart? Am I a fool, my dear William, for wanting you so? At the expense of everything I have ever held dear?
"No," My voice was a whisper, one I so wanted to believe myself "That is anything but foolish, Will, that is admirable."
Silence.
Soft, gentle silence that settled around us like goose down.
"Then it seems that even stupidity is worthy of admiration, sometimes"
Still his voice was low, low and gentle and so remarkably soft that it felt as if it did not carry, but floated, slowly and stealthily until finally when it saw fit, rather than when the laws of nature commanded it, it made itself known unto my ears.
"I should hope so," I laughed in response, hoping to lighten the tone "Or I shall never be admired"
And it worked. My heart was soaring among the nighttime clouds as his lips curled into a dazzling length of a smile. Beautiful and unmistakable even in the darkness.
"You are not stupid Geoff" He smiled, wickedly "Misguided perhaps."
And suddenly with a gentle cry I was upon him. Pinning his hands to the floor and tickling him with all my might, and he was laughing beneath me and not-all-to-helplessly fighting back, until we were a mess of tangled limbs, and laughing faces, and scattered straw.
I suppose you know what is coming next dear reader, for the moment was more of cliché than I ever would have permitted to grace the lines of an act of fiction. There's no use writing with scenarios people already know, my publisher had once said to me over the discarded manuscript of my first and disastrous book, for if they have already experienced them a thousand times where is the adventure? All stories must be an adventure master Chaucer.
But oh how adventurous a cliché can be! Wrapped in the arms of an angel, his face moments from mine, breath short and warm against the rough skin of my own face -so unlike his! The gentle moonlight lit him beneath me and above me and around me, in such a way that it was though he were the only reality I need ever know, my world, holding me fast.
And so -what else could I do, dear reader, but dissipate all the remaining space there was between our bodies? Through the chocolate brown warmth of his eyes, I lent towards him, finding his smooth, smooth, lips beneath mine and his sweet taste claiming my every sense.
A kiss.
And oh, how the word can never encapsulate the moment. So small a word, nothing compared to the emotions that soared, the senses that reeled, the moments that spread into minutes- sweet ecstasy filled minutes that are burnt into my soul like brands of possession. My William. My dear, dear William, who, when faced with such a moment does not reel away, does not recoil at my touch, at the strength of my desire, the passion of my kiss.
"What was that for?" He asked as we pulled away. His voice was low and sweet, and warm and smooth and any and all of the things that I have previously described it to be.
"I. I've." When all you have wished in the world comes to pass within only hours of first desiring it, it can often lead even the most flamboyant of creatures to lose his tongue "I've not had chance to thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me. clothing me. feeding me."
"So that was gratitude?" His tone was disbelieving, eyebrows raised as he pulled back slightly to take in my whole face.
"That, was. thanks," I said softly ".for your kindness"
He chuckled once again, closer this time, so I could feel each vibration move throughout his chest. "I would never accept such a thing in the spirit of repayment" His tone teetered on the more amused side of mocking.
"Perhaps then," I said slowly closing the gap between our faces- the closeness of our bodies causing me to become bolder both in speech and action. "You will accept it in the spirit of lust and attraction."
"Now that" He laughed between our ever-deepening kisses "I do believe."
To be continued.
There's a bit of artistic license involved, but then again in what fic is there not?
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, too bad for me.
Chapter 1 "To Trudge"
Trudging, however noble, was an extremely exhausting and undignified pursuit for a writer of my calibre. But then again, I hadn't had all that much choice in the matter. The road was long, but my pride was longer, this would end how it would end. And I prayed to god it would do soon.
It was over four hours since I'd left the last town, nameless but for the shame I associated with it, setting off across countryside in search of my last shred of dignity, if, indeed, it existed at all. All through that time, I had walked- walked and thought, as writers tended to do, of places more pleasant than this one. Places in which a soul as unfortunate as myself could be rescued by a white knight in shining armour with simply one flick of their mighty golden tendrils. Ha, like that was likely to happen.
"Morning" I bowed through the group of travellers ahead, looking as weary as myself, but in possession of a damn site more clothing. ".Morning" I repeated, barely glancing at their faces. I'd lost count of the amount of similar groups I'd passed, head up unashamedly, inwardly smirking at their looks of unabashed surprise. As no doubt you will realise, dear reader, as this tale unfolds itself in front of your engrossed and devoted eyes, I've always been an exhibitionist at heart.
"Oi Sir" This motley group, however, was obviously not struck dumb by my apparent nudity as a powerful voice from behind my naked back called out to me in a way that meant not to turn would have been an injustice in itself. And so turn is what I did, and in so doing made the most important of my many mistakes that day.
Ha! I know what you're thinking, my many and so avid readers and fellow appreciators of great and humble writings. Forsooth turning to greet a man who is clearly more interested in your well-being than your naked trudging across the deserted moorland is barely a mistake at all. Surely the pursuit that caused the aforementioned unclothed trudging is the more unforgivable of the two? Well, dear reader, for that well-meant and naïve opinion of my situation you can be forgiven, for to the onlooker of such an event it would seem as though your opinion would be correct. But for a free spirit of my particular breed, the turning of my head at that moment meant a world of mistakes. For as I did turn I met with a glance the very figure of a man that would change my life, my destiny, my naked trudging, forever. And I was caught. Caught in that face. So fair a face. My fair knight.
"What are you doing?" A simple enough question, and one which I met with amusement, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach that meant I could no longer walk away from the group with merely a amused smile and light- hearted wave.
"Err, trudging" The group looked unimpressed and not a bit understanding "You know, to trudge? To trudge the slow, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in his life except the impulse to simply, soldier on." Only blank stares met the onslaught of my creative genius, a reaction that is not all that uncommon I have often found. Oh well, I console myself; all true intellects can never be appreciated within their own time.
"Were you robbed?" Oh, such innocence, I laughed unto my self. How could a man so powerful, be a man to untainted, so untouched by the contaminants of the world, so ready to believe what he wished in order to block out the true horrors of human temperament?
"Err, interesting question actually" Or more specifically an interesting question to answer. "Yes, and at the same time, a huge resounding no" turning to face him again I congratulated myself on my artistic abilities "Its more a sort of involuntary vow of poverty really. But on the brighter side, trudging does represent pride- pride, resolve and faith in the good lord almighty. Please Christ rescue me from my current tribula." And I stepped on a thorn. Perfect, that such a savage object could pierce the long-numbed sole of my foot in such a manner that mimicked exactly how the force of that one mans stare had pierced my very soul. And when I was in full artistic swing as well.
"Who are ya?" It was an important question, and delivered well. Why not such a question be so direct and to the point? It also meant I became aware for only the second time that the strength of the group was more than just the one amazing being at whom I was trying hard not to stare.
"Lily mon suspicious, Lily among the thorns" I greeted the other members of the trio. Did I say also that I was quite the comiqué? "Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writings the game" Perhaps with this crowd the more direct approach would be the more lucrative, I was mistaken "Chaucer? Geoffrey Chaucer? I write?" Another loaded pause "What, what? A writer! You know, I write? With ink and parchment?" These were by far the toughest and most ignorant group I had had the pleasure to come into contact with, but oh, who they included. "For a penny I'll scribble you anything you want, from summonses, decrees, edicts, warrants, patents of nobility, I've even been known to jot down a poem or two if the muse descends. You've probably read my book, 'The Book of the Duchess'?"
I received nothing but two blank looks and one radiantly delicate look of intrigue.
"Fine, well it was allegorical." I gave up.
"Well we wouldn't want to hold that against you, that's for each man to decide for himself" The somewhat, larger, figure of a man who had asked, none too indirectly, about my identity earlier said with passion. It was then that I started to realise that this group were rather more perceptive than I had given them credit, even if he had got hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick, to the point were it confused us all and only in hindsight did I perceive his meaning. At the time, something else arose that caught my attention.
"Did you say patents of nobility?" The angel spoke once again, this time with more fascination in his voice than power. I allowed a slow smile to cross my face as I recognised finally my way into this heavenly embodiment's presence.
"Yes, that's right I did" For the first time I truly studied his face, and recognised a man not dissimilar to myself, a man on the outside, wishing with all his heart to find a way in, a way in and a way up, to change his stars. Suddenly I was seized by the urge to meet these souls who I had met on a coincidence and would love on a lifetime.
"And you gentlemen are.?"
"Well, I am Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein from Gelderland and these here are my faithful squires: Delves of Dodgington and Faulhurst of Crewe" After delivering unto me the most unbelievable of identities the angel motioned first at the larger of his two followers, and second to the lankier. I smiled in response and put out a hand.
"I'm Richard the Lionheart, pleased to meet you" I couldn't contain the laughter in my voice "No, wait a minute I'm Chardamay, no, I'm St John the Baptist" I must admit by this point the heady touch of his hand on mine had possessed me with the joke and I somewhat overdid it.
"Alright. Hold your tongue sir or lose it" And suddenly he was above me, my naked body pushed back onto the grass at the tip of a dagger. His fair face rose over me like the heavenly creature it was, halo of hair framing his face with the power of the mid-day sun. Oh how saintly he looked, how like the knight of my dreams.
I held up my hand to him "Now that," I smiled at his determined face so close to mine "I do believe. Sir Ulrich" and for whatever reason this he was contented with, and he drew away, sheathing his sword.
"Thank you, Geoff" And oh how the angels sang out as his gentle mouth formed my name, that low, beautiful honey-dripping-from-the-comb voice. So perfect and smooth, sweeter than light and warmer than the brush of summers sun on naked skin. A voice that commanded angels like armies, and saw the Lord turn in the sky and look down upon the being that he made and covert the very perfection of its tone and inflection. And. You will stop me if ever I become too sentimental, will you not? For I wouldn't want to bore, however artistically brilliant my lovesick ramblings may be. Luckily for you, dear reader, my devoted reverie was broken by the so-called 'Delves of Dodgington'.
"Have you any more to say, master nude, or, having failed your test, may we be on our way?" Oh they did not know me yet, for at any one time I have a hundred more things to say. But at this moment, the import of halting their determined strides away from my naked self meant that the thing I did impart to them had to be carefully chosen in order to keep them from walking back out of my life.
"Oh you're off to the tournament are you?" Probably not the most beautiful of comments I could have made at that moment, but in the end, it did the trick. At first, however, all it did was spark the attention of 'Faulhurst'.
"This is the road to Rouen is it not?"
"Well, you know" I said, immediately dismissing the idea to pun on the similarity of his words to "Road to Ruin" in the fact that they were clearly not likely to understand and truly appreciate the subtlety of the joke "That remains to be seen, see they're limiting the field at Rouen, noble birth must be established for four generations either side of the family" Finally I'd got their attention once again "Patents of nobility must be provided" If I do say so myself, it was as devious a scheme as any I have ever come across, before and after the time in question.
Thoughtfully I chewed on my lower lip and watched as the angel battled with indecision. What to do? He asked in his gentle sigh, and with his glance at the ground in desperation he called out to me.
"Listen" I spoke after a moment "Clothe me, Shoe me, for goodness sake feed me, let me ride that horse a bit and you will have your patents" And I will have everything I desire, oh angel of my eye, for you will be close to me, close enough, perhaps, to call me "friend".
They turned away then to talk amongst themselves, the angel in their midst obviously the leader of the group, the one in which they looked to for the deciding vote upon my credibility. It was a few moments later when finally the 'Faulhurst' of the group broke away, to the ominous tune of:
"Be nice"
Which he proceeded chant under his breath as he strode unassuredly towards me, not something that one wishes to hear when sat vulnerable and naked upon a grassy verge at the edge of a road- destination unknown. However, I was relatively confident that this small object was of little to no threat, a feeling that was intensified as the other members of his group neatly exploded into laughter behind him as he delivered his threat.
"Betray us," He said, with surprising determination "And I will fong you until your insides are out, your outsides are in, your intrails will become your extrails." And then with copious amounts of nervous mumbling he finished with: "Pain, lots of pain"
I had soon decided that when such a small man was so wound up it would be a mistake to point out his errors of punctuation and vocabulary. Especially the fact that to my knowledge the word "fong" had never, and was never likely to grace the confines of the English language. Nor the French one, I doubt not.
So that was that, one warning and I was in, part of their merry band no less. Within what seemed like instants clothes were arranged, and produced neatly from the back of their cart as if, instead of would-be knights and squires, they were in fact a pack of travelling magicians, bent on changing the lives of more unfortunate souls, randomly roaming the countryside naked and starving. Which brings me neatly upon the next item upon the agenda, the food, swiftly produced upon one word form the "knight" (and I say it so in the fact that although he may be one at heart, he was nothing until my patents made it so. if I do say so myself) who was fast becoming, in my eyes, the guardian angel of my very existence.
"So," I said, after we had sat in companionable silence for a few moments, staring out at the countryside that lacked nothing in beauty, especially when it encased the being I now sat beside and addressed completely, in a roundabout sort of way. "Perhaps its time I knew who you were?" I looked around at the three that surrounded me, merrily munching on the bread and cheese they had allegedly purchased from the very town that had seen my clothes demise. "And do not try to fob me off with some story of knights and squires, I think perhaps now you owe me something a little more than elaborate stage names."
'Sir Liechtenstein' chuckled at my side. It was the kind of laugh that embodied the word "chuckled" in such a way that I felt it was necessary to use it in order to put across the true sound of his amusement, it was not by choice that such a word had to grace the lines of this paper, you understand.
"You do have quite a mouth on you Mr Chaucer" He said through his smile, a wide grin of a smile that made the warm bark of his eyes glitter in the sunshine.
"Geoff, is fine" I said with a smile, before inclining my head slightly and adding "Sir Ulrich" with such a mocking tone that, although the angel himself may cling to the fantasy that he was, in fact, of noble birth, the other two of his travelling posse became tired with the notion that he out- ranked them and started to relay the tale of their being there.
"His name is William," 'Delves' began, bringing me back to earth through the intense dark pools of 'Williams' eyes, "I am Roland, and this is Wat" Roland continued, motioning to himself and then to the third member of the group. "We're on our way to Rouen to pose as nobility and win some money, there's no harm in admitting it"
"And you plan to make this money jousting?" Surely there is nothing wrong with a man who, when faced with such an unlikely group of people, is somewhat unconvinced by such a tale?
"We plan to make this money jousting" Roland repeated, assuredly.
"What is it out of that fact that you find so hard to believe?" That voice again, pure golden honey on a warm lazy summers afternoon.
"Well, I mean, it's a bit of a thing to have to believe don't you think?" I squinted through the sun to face him, his face emitting just as much purity and light as the sun himself "Can you even joust?"
"Of course I can joust!" Tension was rising.
"He better be able to, or we've suffered for nothing" Wat mumbled angrily from beside me, only serving to increase it.
"You know how good I am Wat," William turned from my stare to face his friend "We could beat any man in France if we so wished"
"You mean you could beat any man in France, we'd just stand there and hold the armour"
William fixed him with a kind of stare that could have wilted flowers, if they were tall and fair and went by the name of Chaucer.
"What are you saying Wat?" And oh how richly smooth his voice when he was concerned.
"I'm saying that I'm fed up of being the little guy when you get to be the Lord, sat up on your high horse like that" He was scrambling to his feet, anger getting the best of him. In his childish outburst I was quick to inwardly praise him of his use of metaphor, but soon realised that it was not, in fact, intentional. "Who said that you got to be the great Knight anyway? No one, that's who! But there you are, prancing around, introducing yourself as Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein" If it was humanly possible to heap more scorn on such a phrase he would certainly have managed it "It's a stupid name if you ask me." And he left, stomping off across the field.
"Well, it was quite an exit" My dramatic mind stated without so much as a second thought, I received only angry stares from the remaining two of the group before Roland scrambled to his feet in much the same ungainly fashion as his friend.
"I'd better be going 'n checking on him then" He bowed out of the group "Wouldn't want him doing himself damage"
So then we were left, the angel and I, sitting atop a grassy ridge, chewing contentedly and staring down at the valley below us- spread out in such a fashion that it seemed to be presenting itself for the approval of this deity beside me. It was one of those moments that had the power to humble even the embodiment of exhibitionism that I myself have grown to be in my few and humble years. Yes, for once, this artiste, that, at any one moment, has ten thousand words swimming around within his literary mind- had nothing to say.
"I never knew that was how he felt." And William, my dear, dear William, hurting as he was that such a close acquaintance would harbour such deep and spiteful feelings towards him, could only sit and stare, and wonder at his own naivety.
"Surely it was obvious?" I asked after a few moments, staring out at the fields before us.
"What was?" A beautifully innocent enquiry.
"That he should feel like that."
"Why should it be?"
"You need to see it from his point of view." I dared a glance into the warmth of those brown eyes and found myself caught, as I had been eternally those long minutes before "Imagine, if you would, that you were Wat and Wat were you, how you would feel to watch your friend and confidant become your superior? Your better?"
"I am no better than he," He answered quickly, breaking my gaze to stare out at the world submitted for his own approval.
"According to the law. according to the patents you have bid me design. you are" My tone was gentle, the kind of tone you would adopt when talking to a small child, or frightened animal, tender, caring- totally and completely in adoration. For not only was this being the most perfect of all souls, but he believed himself not to be, a quaint and attractive trait in any man.
There was silence for a long while in which I watched his blonde head fold to the ground, staring for some time at a single blade of brilliant green grass. Oh how I wished to be that grass, so small, delicate and yet so absorbing to the one creature I wished to pay me such attention.
"I'd not seen it that way," A pause, in which I physically held myself back from holding him in my arms "I suppose it's only right that he is angry"
"I agree that he has reason, but there was no calling to take it out on you so savagely." Indeed, if I had it my way, my dearest William, none would be granted to hurt you so. But I did not bring myself to say it out loud; there are some things that even exhibitionists cannot say. "I think, perhaps, all he needs. is time." Tentatively and as casually as I could manage I reached out a hand and dropped it onto his shoulder, ignoring the purely imaginary sparks that flew at my touch. "Rudolf will do the job"
And suddenly he was laughing, a laugh that lit up my world in such a way that put the sun to shame, and caused the stars in the heavens to collide with one another in pure delight.
"Roland" He laughed, patting my hand were it still lay on my shoulder, the brush of his skin on mine enough to make any lesser being swoon and fall to the ground at his feet. "His name is Roland" A long pause in which his merriment subsided and he let his hand relax across mine to the delight of each and every nerve within my body "And I do hope your faith is well placed, my dear Geoff, I really do"
Trudging is never quite so exhausting or humiliating when preformed fully clothed amid a group of similarly occupied souls. Perhaps it has something to do with the herding instinct of man, or perhaps just the modesty bestowed on us by the forbidden fruit. Whichever you choose to believe the aforementioned statement is perfectly true, even if one quarter of the group is not communicating with any other but the figure that plods gracelessly by his side.
"Roland?" The quarter in question enquired "Would you mind asking His Highness over there if we could look for a place to stop for the night, one is getting rather tired" His attempt at a more dignified dialect had disastrous results, not that his point was not a valid one, one that I was certain most of the group, including myself, had been pondering for quite some time.
Roland, being the tolerant fellow that he was, immediately drew breath to relay the question to the angelic William (trudging dejectedly across the group from the wronged Wat) who cut him off before he had chance to speak.
"Thank you Roland, I heard what he said" With the manner of an increasingly intolerant school teacher he turned to face the red-head "We will stop as soon as we find somewhere suitable Wat, let me know when such a place presents itself to you"
If I had never known a stony silence until now I would surely have recognised it at that moment. Wat looked away, staring angrily towards the grassy verge as he plodded along, head down. Will also turned away, his brown eyes more anxious than his former friend's, filled with a look that made one want to throw their arms about him and protect him from all the Wat's of the world.
It could not have been a quarter of an hour later that Roland first observed the barn in the distance, set back a little way from the road and offering in its hay packed lofts exactly the kind of comfort four weary travellers needed to ease their tired bodies. It seemed only moments before we had tied up the horses in the shelter and climbed into the straw, taking out the last of our supplies in relative silence.
"Do you realise, master Chaucer, that you have not said a word in almost a full half hour?" Roland asked. My somewhat, overly exercised mouth and vocabulary had already become a running joke with the group, who made it their duty to comment on my silences in order to spark my one-sided conversation back into full flow. It was not, I had soon realised, just me that was uncomfortable with the silence that had befallen on such seemingly close and intimate friends.
I smiled over at him, shrugging my shoulders dramatically "For once the writer is struck dumb." I said, pausing to take in each of their faces, before continuing powerfully without so much as acknowledging the fact that I had stopped ".by such a foolish and useless rivalry. Surely you, my dear Wat," I said, addressing the fellow in question "would not begrudge William the thing he has wished all his life, when not only he, but you also, will benefit from it if it is to be successful?"
The group were clearly not expecting me to be so serious in my response and stared solidly at me for a full minute before the gaze shifted across to Wat and he was prompted to reply.
"I just don't see why it has to be 'im," He paused- Wat was a man of simple words "We've all dreamed of being knights, why should it be 'im that gets the honour?"
A pause, in which my literary mind replayed all the possible responses I could give him.
"Have you ever thought, dear Wat, that it is you that has the honour? The honour, I tell you, without the pain. The riches without putting your life on the line at the point of every lance? You are his faithful squires, ready in a crisis, but not inside of one each time you mount your horse."
"And have you ever thought," Wat said, standing angrily "that it's none of your damn business?" and he marched away as respectfully as he could across soft hay, stumbling only once.
"He holds a fair point." I admitted, turning back to the others as he disappeared into the darkness. I shrugged "I tried my best"
"And I thank you for it" William said rising and dropping a hand on my shoulder in such a comradely fashion that made my skin tingle and my head soar among the rafters. "But, I think, for tonight at least, he's a lost cause. Goodnight" And he disappeared into the darkness in the opposite direction from the one Wat had stumbled. Roland and I watched him go, before turning back to each other.
"Don't you think you should go after him?" I asked after a moment of contemplatory silence.
"Who? Wat?" He paused "No I don't think so. He'll be quite alright by morning if we give him some time to stew on his own" He chortled to himself for a moment "He's always finding new subjects to worry himself over, I'm just concerned this one may have struck too sore a nerve in master William" I nodded slowly to the floor, before looking up as I realised Roland's gaze lay on the top of my head "Don't you think you ought to check on him?"
"Who? Wat? No I don't think so" I mimicked his response "Whatever 'fonging' may be, it did not sound a particularly pleasurable experience"
Roland chuckled again.
"I meant Will, he'll be needing someone to talk to I doubt not, and you are by far the most qualified man for that job"
I laughed and stood, quite unable to contain the feeling of pleasurable surprise that came from being wanted.
"Well, I'm glad I've found something I'm useful for" And I turned to seek out my lonesome angel, to the warm tones of Roland's quiet amusement.
"You have a point you know" I found William moments later, stretched out in the straw, arms folded behind his head as he watched the stars through the holes in the roofing. I never would have found him in the darkness if it had not been for those holes, and the way the moonlight played through the gaps to bathe his halo of hair in a warm glow.
"Of course I do" I replied readily, settling myself into the straw beside him, sat up to appreciate the full magnificence of his figure stretched out before me "What point would that be then?"
"Those things you said about putting my life on the line at the tip of every lance."
"Oh you don't want to listen to anything I say," I laughed gently, cutting him off "Most of it's nonsense anyway,"
His smile was broad, teeth glistening in the faint light
"Perhaps that's not the best thing for a writer to confess"
"Perhaps not, but it doesn't make it any less true." I gazed down at him with a secret smile "And in my experience most writers are exactly the same"
He laughed, "I shall remember that"
There was a companionable silence for a few moments in which we studied our respective directions, his up at the heavens, mine down at the heavens.
"It wasn't nonsense," He said after a long while, his voice as rough and smooth as the wash of the ocean rolling over the soft sand. "My master -our master," He laughed gently, more like a sigh than a show of amusement "God rest his soul- died from injuries caused by the joust. That's how I came to take his place"
"I thought as much" A slow and gentle response on my behalf.
Slowly his eyes slid across to meet my own, and I soon lost all ability to ignore the energy that flowed there.
"He. I." He started, before giving up and gathering his thoughts "Am I a fool, Geoff," his gentle tones asked, "for wanting something so badly? Even at risk of my own life?"
Oh William. How you do you, so simple, so naïve, sum up the very call of my soul, the very plea of my heart? Am I a fool, my dear William, for wanting you so? At the expense of everything I have ever held dear?
"No," My voice was a whisper, one I so wanted to believe myself "That is anything but foolish, Will, that is admirable."
Silence.
Soft, gentle silence that settled around us like goose down.
"Then it seems that even stupidity is worthy of admiration, sometimes"
Still his voice was low, low and gentle and so remarkably soft that it felt as if it did not carry, but floated, slowly and stealthily until finally when it saw fit, rather than when the laws of nature commanded it, it made itself known unto my ears.
"I should hope so," I laughed in response, hoping to lighten the tone "Or I shall never be admired"
And it worked. My heart was soaring among the nighttime clouds as his lips curled into a dazzling length of a smile. Beautiful and unmistakable even in the darkness.
"You are not stupid Geoff" He smiled, wickedly "Misguided perhaps."
And suddenly with a gentle cry I was upon him. Pinning his hands to the floor and tickling him with all my might, and he was laughing beneath me and not-all-to-helplessly fighting back, until we were a mess of tangled limbs, and laughing faces, and scattered straw.
I suppose you know what is coming next dear reader, for the moment was more of cliché than I ever would have permitted to grace the lines of an act of fiction. There's no use writing with scenarios people already know, my publisher had once said to me over the discarded manuscript of my first and disastrous book, for if they have already experienced them a thousand times where is the adventure? All stories must be an adventure master Chaucer.
But oh how adventurous a cliché can be! Wrapped in the arms of an angel, his face moments from mine, breath short and warm against the rough skin of my own face -so unlike his! The gentle moonlight lit him beneath me and above me and around me, in such a way that it was though he were the only reality I need ever know, my world, holding me fast.
And so -what else could I do, dear reader, but dissipate all the remaining space there was between our bodies? Through the chocolate brown warmth of his eyes, I lent towards him, finding his smooth, smooth, lips beneath mine and his sweet taste claiming my every sense.
A kiss.
And oh, how the word can never encapsulate the moment. So small a word, nothing compared to the emotions that soared, the senses that reeled, the moments that spread into minutes- sweet ecstasy filled minutes that are burnt into my soul like brands of possession. My William. My dear, dear William, who, when faced with such a moment does not reel away, does not recoil at my touch, at the strength of my desire, the passion of my kiss.
"What was that for?" He asked as we pulled away. His voice was low and sweet, and warm and smooth and any and all of the things that I have previously described it to be.
"I. I've." When all you have wished in the world comes to pass within only hours of first desiring it, it can often lead even the most flamboyant of creatures to lose his tongue "I've not had chance to thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me. clothing me. feeding me."
"So that was gratitude?" His tone was disbelieving, eyebrows raised as he pulled back slightly to take in my whole face.
"That, was. thanks," I said softly ".for your kindness"
He chuckled once again, closer this time, so I could feel each vibration move throughout his chest. "I would never accept such a thing in the spirit of repayment" His tone teetered on the more amused side of mocking.
"Perhaps then," I said slowly closing the gap between our faces- the closeness of our bodies causing me to become bolder both in speech and action. "You will accept it in the spirit of lust and attraction."
"Now that" He laughed between our ever-deepening kisses "I do believe."
To be continued.