Red and Black
Sir Francis Fairburn glared out of the casement window, sighing his disapproval. He could see the slight figure of his only child, Nicholas, running through the formal garden, waving madly at a figure Sir Francis could not yet see. But then he didn’t need to see who it was; only one person could make Nicholas break out of his normally insolent, indifferent attitude, but he was still unable to tear his eyes away from the figure in the garden.
He heard the hoofbeats before he saw the horse, and his suspicions were confirmed. A beautiful creature, black as midnight, with showy silver trappings. The rider was around the same age as Nicholas, as dark as Nicholas was fair. He sat the horse as if he had been born in the saddle which perhaps, Sir Francis mused, wasn’t far from the truth.
As he watched, the rider slithered to a halt and slid out of the saddle, then held his arms wide, staggering back as Nicholas threw himself into them. Sir Francis turned away, unable to watch any longer.
*
"Jack! Jack, when did you get back?" Nicholas hugged the other man close. "I wasn’t expecting you for another two days."
"I couldn’t stay away, my lord," Jack laughed. "Why should I care about something as paltry as money when my bed is cold?"
"Never your lord," Nicholas insisted, stroking the palm of his hand down Jack’s face, smiling into the laughing hazel eyes. "Never that."
Jack captured Nicholas’ hand and softly kissed his palm. "My bed is cold," he said again, and Nicholas shivered in anticipation of their reunion.
"Tonight," Jack said, stepping away from Nicholas, putting his hand back on the bridle of his horse. "I can’t stay now, my love, but I’ll come to you tonight."
"New trappings," said Nicholas, pretending to study the new silver bridle, but in fact just using it as an opportunity to cover Jack’s hand with his own. "Who gave them to you? One of your fancy women?"
"The King of France," Jack said, winking at Nicholas. "Or at least the rents from the lands I hold over there." He turned his hand and quickly squeezed Nicholas’ fingers. "I promise you, my bed remained empty. Why would I want anybody else in it when I have you waiting for me?" He smiled. "Now I must go, Nicholas. I’ll come to you tonight. Leave the tower door open, yes?"
Nicholas glanced at the sun, still high in the sky, and sighed. Jack followed his glance, and laughed, springing into the saddle. Then he reached his hand down to Nicholas.
"Come riding, my lord?"
Nicholas laughed and pulled himself up behind Jack, tangling his fingers in the soft leather of his coat and resting his face against Jack’s broad back. He closed his eyes, content.
He felt the horse start to move, but kept his eyes closed. He only realised what Jack had in mind when suddenly the bright sunlight on his eyelids faded, dappling as the horse took them under the broad oak trees which were perhaps a furlong past the formal garden. It was where his father took honoured guests, sometimes even the King himself, to hunt, but there were also secret places known only to Jack and Nicholas, places made for more gentle sport.
Sliding off the horse before it had even stopped, Nicholas fought his way through an impenetrable looking hedge, emerging into a secluded bower. He turned around as the crashing behind him signified Jack’s progress through the same hedge.
Nicholas laughed out loud as Jack appeared through the hedge, bits of twig and leaf clinging to the dark hair. Jack looked up and laughed as well, reaching out and pulling leaves out of Nicholas’ hair. Then his hand lingered in the fair hair, and all laughter stopped.
"I’ve missed you, my lord…" whispered Jack, curling his fingers around the back of Nicholas’ neck and pulling him forward. "The nights were long and cold without you."
"Jack….." Nicholas was unable to say anything further, as Jack kissed him fiercely and Nicholas felt his whole body react. He wrapped his arms around Jack, sliding his hands under the coat and the cotton shirt, gasping as he rested on the hot smooth flesh of Jack’s back.
Not breaking the kiss, Jack forced Nicholas onto his back and lay full length on him, fingers scrabbling at the buttons on Nicholas’ doublet, cursing as lust made him clumsy. Finally he gave up, and contented himself with kissing Nicholas hard, forcing his thigh between the other man’s legs, making Nicholas arch his back and moan.
"When?" Nicholas whispered. "When will you come to me?"
"Immediately after supper," Jack answered. "We can be together the whole night."
*
Sir Francis was waiting in the great hall when Nicholas walked in, dishevelled and smiling. He halted as soon as he saw his father, his face falling back into its usual insolent expression.
"Father! What a pleasant surprise. Do you want something?"
"I saw him," snapped Sir Francis. "I saw you go to him. Nicholas, this has to stop!"
"No," answered Nicholas, moving forward, intending to walk around his father, who surprised them both when he reached out and grabbed hold of the collar of Nicholas’ doublet, pulling his son in until they were almost nose to nose.
"You are my son, Nicholas, and as such you are my property!" Sir Francis could feel himself losing control, but the sight of his son with that filthy Frenchman had angered him more than he had realised.
"I may live under your roof, but what I choose to do with my life is up to me, not you. All you need me for is to inherit this property and father children. I can do that without giving up the one thing that makes me happy!" Nicholas had a temper just as wild as his father, and it had snapped the second his collar had been grabbed.
"Makes you happy!" sneered Sir Francis. "It’s sick, perverted. It has to stop."
"No!" He started to pull away, but his father, finally snapping, dragged him back and slapped Nicholas so hard that he felt his own palm sting. Nicholas, shocked by the treatment, put his hand up to his cheek, already showing the imprint of his father’s fingers.
"You may be my heir, but I tell you now, Nicholas, that if this doesn’t stop, you will suffer. And not only you, but your Frenchman as well. Maybe more than you."
"What is that supposed to mean?" demanded Nicholas, his ears still ringing from the force of the slap.
"Nicholas, he’s a Frenchman, remember? We’re at war with France. He needs to tread softly."
"He has a notice from the King!" protested Nicholas. "He’s lived here since he was a child, you know that. He doesn’t consider himself to be French….."
"But he is, and that will be enough," interrupted Sir Francis. "Nicholas, I have friends in high places; I have the ear of the King himself. Just be careful."
"I won’t give him up, father. Your threats are idle as long as he has that notice. He makes me happy."
"You’ve been with him, haven’t you? I saw you in the garden, running into his arms like some besotted maid!" He shook Nicholas. "You went into the woods with him, didn’t you? You disgust me!"
Nicholas didn’t answer, refusing to rise to the challenge he could see in his father’s eyes. He wasn’t going to give in, he couldn’t give Jack up.
Goaded beyond all reasoning by his son’s stubborness and silence, Sir Francis tightened his grip on Nicholas’ collar and began to drag him from the hall.
"If you can’t see reason, then you must be taught obedience! That was always your problem, Nicholas; you were left with your mother too much, and she was too soft with you, too gentle. I will not have you humiliating me in front of our tenants by throwing yourself at that Frenchman."
"He’s not French!" Nicholas shouted stubbornly, twisting in his father’s grip. "And I love him!"
Absolute silence and stillness fell. It was as if every living thing stopped breathing to listen. Even Nicholas knew he had gone too far.
"Love is for women giggling together in the solar, not for the likes of you. You will marry for duty.." He shook Nicholas again. "And you will never claim to love that man. You are an abomination before God, and I ashamed and sorry that I have no other sons."
"Don’t you think I share that sorrow?" Nicholas gasped. "If I had a brother, then perhaps you would leave me to live my life."
Sir Francis started to drag Nicholas out of the Great Hall, throwing him into the small dark room he used as a study. Nicholas had rarely been in this room, and it only held one meaning for him. He was going to get a beating for what he had said and done this afternoon.
He didn’t care. It was worth it for the time he had shared with Jack, and for the night to come. His father could beat him, but he couldn’t stop the way he felt.
*******************
Jacques Beauchamp had been born in the Languedoc region of France, the only child of one of the last of the Knights Chevalier, who was killed in battle when Jacques was only 2. The English Crown, never willing to pass up an opportunity to make money, had taken Jacques, now the heir to huge and valuable tracts of land, back to England and made him a Ward of the Crown, thereby ensuring that any money owing to Jacques would go straight into the Treasury. He was brought up as an Englishman, the King working on the theory that if he could make Jacques think and behave like an Englishman, he wouldn’t turn on them.
And so Jacques Beauchamp became Jack Beecham. He grew into a strong, handsome man who loved horses and hunting. He was well liked by everybody who knew him, most of whom knew there was ‘something strange’ about him, but they were willing to ignore that side of his nature. As long as Jack didn’t flaunt his widely known relationship with Nicholas, that suited everybody.
He didn’t really have a role in life which sometimes concerned him. He was wealthy; the King had settled a decent percentage of the rents on him; he had an official notice signed by the King, meaning that he could travel safely to the Languedoc to collect the rents if he wished, even though England seemed to be almost permanently at war with France. He knew at some point he would have to marry, but he was only 22 - he could worry about a wife and children at some undefined point in the future.
And he loved Nicholas with every fibre of his being. He had been 19 when he first met Nicholas, and the spark had been there immediately. In London on one of his regular, compulsory visits to Court, he had walked into the King’s antechamber just as Nicholas was barging out, in a temper after yet another argument with his father. Nicholas had cannoned into Jack, sending him flying halfway across the room, and depositing him on his back in the dust.
"Oh! My apologies, sir!" Nicholas had reached down to help Jack back to his feet, and as they had touched, everything else in the room had faded and Jack had felt himself start to grin foolishly. Such a delicate looking boy, almost pretty, but the hand clasping Jack’s felt strong and calloused from hours of swordplay. Looking into the big blue eyes, Jack knew that this boy had felt the same shock between them.
"No harm done, sir," Jack had replied, standing up, but not releasing the other’s hand. "Just a bit of pride knocked out of me, that’s all." He paused. "Jack Beecham at your service, sir." He turned the end of the sentence into a question, and the blond boy half smiled in acknowledgement.
"Nicholas Fairburn, of Abingdon," he replied, making a mocking half bow, twisting his hand so that his fingers entwined briefly with Jack’s, before releasing his grip. A voice bellowing his name made him raise his eyebrows. "And that is my father, Sir Francis. He has a temper like the very devil, and likes to have his whipping boy near him at all times."
"I think I must look for a property in Abingdon," said Jack quietly, watching as Nicholas walked away. He didn’t think Nicholas had heard until, just before he entered the Antechamber, he turned and looked over his shoulder.
"I would like that," was all he said.
*
Jack didn’t see Nicholas again for 3 months. He bought a property some 8 miles from Abingdon and as a new, rich, landowner, Sir Francis had no choice but to invite him to his home, to share food with him.
Nicholas, as usual, wanted nothing to do with it, but a cuff around the head persuaded him it would be a good idea to at least be present.
When Jack walked in, his eyes had locked with Nicholas’ and hardly moved again for the rest of the evening.
After what seemed like hours of pointless conversation, a skill Jack had never mastered, he landed with delight on the final course, knowing that he could get away from the table soon. The only thing that had made it bearable had been Nicholas. Passing him wine and food, their fingers touching, constant electricity between them, Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so perfect, and he was starting to feel light headed.
"It’s a great pity, Jack, that I am without a daughter," said Sir Francis. "You, a young, handsome, eligible bachelor. A catch, undoubtedly."
"I am not yet ready for marriage, my lord," replied Jack, gazing at Nicholas. "I believe that when I find someone to spend my life with, I will know it. Until then, I will stay as I am."
"Surely you don’t believe in all this nonsense about love?" asked Sir Francis. "Marriage is a necessity, sir. You must father children." He waved vaguely in Nicholas’ direction. "My wife did her duty by giving me a son. It was unfortunate that she died when he was young and we had no other children, but he has grown healthy, if a little wild."
Jack passed the wine to Nicholas, his fingers lingering.
"I believe that for every man, there is … a perfect match," he replied.
Sir Francis sat back, snorting, and Nicholas grinned.
"Would you like to see the stables?" he asked Jack. "Flight is a fine horse, but we have some good animals too."
"I would like that very much," said Jack, leaping at the chance to be alone with Nicholas, to try and see if the spark was real.
"Good, good," enthused Sir Francis. "I would like you two to become acquainted. Nicholas needs somebody to look up to, Jack."
Jack smiled vaguely, and followed Nicholas out of the room.
*
The night was cold, but not overly so. The two boys walked in silence for a moment, then Nicholas took a deep breath, and plunged in.
"Did you mean what you said, about there being a perfect match for everyone?" he asked softly, watching Jack out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes," Jack said.
"You believe in love?"
"Very much," answered Jack.
"Jack….." Nicholas stopped and put a hand on Jack’s arm. "When I met you, I felt…."
Jack reached out and cupped a hand around the back of Nicholas’ neck.
"I know what you felt, my lord." He leaned forward to brushed his lips across Nicholas’ cheek, grunting as Nicholas moved his head, intercepting his lips, and the two boys shared a deep kiss.
"Jack…" Nicholas said again, but didn’t say anything further. Instead he pulled Jack closer, kissing him again, harder this time, more desperate, his tongue forcing its way into Jack’s mouth.
Jack moaned and wrapped his arms around Nicholas, pulling him as close as he could.
"I knew it," he gasped, pulling away from the kiss at last. "I knew it from the minute I first saw you." He put a hand in Nicholas’ hair, running his fingers through the blond strands.
"I’ve thought of nothing but you since that moment in London," Nicholas said.
"The moment you sent me flying through the air?" laughed Jack, and Nicholas smiled, leaning in for another kiss. He put his hands on Jack’s shirt, spreading his palms over the broad chest, his breathing speeding up. He put out his tongue and licked his lips, and Jack groaned, tangling his fingers in Nicholas’ hair.
After another kiss, the two boys broke apart, and stood, staring at each other, each unsure what to do next.
Nicholas glanced over his shoulder at the looming shadows of the stables, then back at Jack, grinning widely. Jack snorted a laugh, and taking hold of Nicholas’ hand, pulled him into the darkness.
Once safe in the shadows, Jack pushed Nicholas against the wall, his hands trailing over the willing body, making them both moan their pleasure. Jack leaned in and nuzzled below Nicholas’ ear, making Nicholas buck his hips in response.
"What would you like, my lord?" Jack whispered, letting Nicholas pull his hand between their bodies. He eagerly cupped Nicholas through the thin material, stroking his fingers along the hard shaft. Nicholas groaned, pushing into the touch, muttering Jack’s name, reaching forward blindly, kissing Jack, his mouth hot and eager.
Jack released Nicholas, putting both arms around him, pulling him close, kissing him hard. He wrapped his leg around Nicholas’ calf, wanting to be part of him, wanting to keep this moment forever.
Finally coming up for air, Nicholas laughed, leaning his head back against the wall.
"Jack, we must go back," he whispered.
"Why?" asked Jack, dipping his head to bite softly at Nicholas’ neck. "I want to stay here."
"My father … he wants to know where I am at all times."
"Showing me the horses," said Jack, sliding his hand down to cup Nicholas’ cock. "You obviously find horses very exciting, my lord."
"Tonight, after supper," Nicholas groaned, his hips moving. "My chamber … my father will have to invite you to stay as it’s grown so late."
Reluctantly, Jack released Nicholas and stepped back, his eyes reflecting what little light there was.
"Then I will accept the invitation, my lord."
*
Nothing seemed to be able to stop it. Sir Francis had beaten Nicholas almost into unconsciousness when he had found out, determined to beat the perversion out of him, make him realise that he had been temporarily possessed by some devil. Nicholas had been unable to move for two days, and it had been another week after that before he could leave his chamber, but the first place he had gone when he had been strong enough, had been to Jack.
Jack had been so angry when he saw what had happened to Nicholas that he had wanted to go and confront Sir Francis immediately, but Nicholas persuaded him not to. Nicholas had stayed with Jack for ten days until he was fully recovered, then Jack took him back, and kissed him goodbye on the doorstep, in full view of Sir Francis. He then pretended to leave, but in fact waited just out of sight. An hour later he went back and carried Nicholas’ bruised and bleeding form back to his own house, nursing him until he was well again.
Eventually Jack had faced Sir Francis and told him that if the beatings continued, he would take Nicholas out of the house and the Fairburn line would die out. It seemed to have worked.
*******************
"Nicholas? My lord, are you here?" Jack pushed open the door to the bedchamber. It was almost dark now, but Jack could make out a shape under the coverlet.
"Jack." Nicholas’ voice was flat and dull. "Jack, please stay away."
"What? Why? What’s wrong?" Jack ignored Nicholas’ instruction and walked to the edge of the bed. He reached down and touched Nicholas’ hair, pulling back as Nicholas flinched. He realised then what had happened.
"No. Oh, no!" he exclaimed. "Nicholas, not again." He pulled the coverlet gently off the bed, and winced as he saw the damage Sir Francis had inflicted on the delicate skin. "I’ll go and get some water and clean the worst of them. Do you still have the jar of comfrey anywhere?"
"In the chest," Nicholas answered.
As gently as he could, Jack bathed Nicholas’ back, then having dried the wounds, he gently rubbed in some of the lotion which the housekeeper had made for them some time ago. Finding a clean shirt, he pulled it over Nicholas’ head, sliding it as carefully as he could over the injuries.
"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, sitting next to Nicholas and stroking the soft hair. "Or do you need to be alone?"
"Stay," Nicholas whispered, and so Jack quickly disrobed and, after bolting the door, slid into the bed.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his mouth against Nicholas’ shoulder. "If I had known this was going to happen…"
"No," replied Nicholas. "It was my fault. I angered him." He laughed. "I can anger him just by looking at him." He turned his head and smiled at Jack, who kissed him gently. "I was looking forward to our reunion tonight, but I think we may have to wait."
Jack laughed and ran his hand down Nicholas’ side, then, sliding his hand under the hem of the thin shirt, rested his hand on one firm buttock. At the same time he trapped one of Nicholas’ legs between his own, and he smiled as Nicholas sighed his pleasure.
"I am happy just to talk to you, my lord," Jack said. "And I do believe I took advantage of you earlier!"
Nicholas laughed, and leaned forward for another kiss, tangling his tongue with Jack’s, moving one of his hands until it was hooked around Jack’s waist.
"Tell me about France," he whispered, resting his forehead against Jack’s. "Tell me what it’s like. One day you can show me your lands. Tell me about your lands."
*******************
As dawn broke, Jack pulled away from Nicholas
"I have to go," he whispered. "It’s almost day."
Nicholas sighed and tilted his head until he was looking up at Jack through long, thick eyelashes. He half smiled, and Jack groaned, dropping back onto the bed, beaten, as ever, by that particular look.
"You are evil," he said, kissing Nicholas soundly. "But I really must go. Flight is tethered in the wood and I have to get to him before full day. Will I see you later?"
"I’ll come to you later," said Nicholas. He moved carefully, then nodded to himself.
"When will later be?" asked Jack, his lips against Nicholas’ ear.
"Before noon," Nicholas whispered. "I need to be with you, need to see you."
"What about your father?"
Nicholas pulled away and looked up at Jack.
"What about my father?"
*
"Where are you going?" demanded Sir Francis watching as Nicholas carefully climbed into the saddle, wincing as the stallion pranced a little.
"Nicholas? Where are you going?"
"Where do you think?" answered Nicholas. "I don’t expect to be back tonight, father."
"Nicholas, you need to stop this, why don’t you understand?" Sir Francis put his hand on Nicholas’ leg. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
"I don’t believe I’m doing anything to myself," answered Nicholas. "You know how I feel, and those feelings will never change. I just want to be with him." He pulled away as his father’s grip tightened, and wheeling around he made his slow way out of the stable yard. He couldn’t go too fast; every pace the horse took vibrated up his spine and his bruised back protested fiercely.
He didn’t look back, so he didn’t see his father staring after him, a look on his face that wasn’t easy to name.
*
Jack was pacing around the stables when he heard a horse approaching, slowly and carefully. He knew it could only be one person and he practically ran to meet Nicholas as he plodded up the road. Nicholas looked up and saw him, his whole face transforming as he smiled, and as Jack approached, he slid out of the saddle and into Jack’s arms.
"How are you?" Jack asked, brushing back a stray lock of blond hair.
"Well, now," Nicholas answered. "Away from father, in your arms, how could I be anything but well?"
Jack glanced at the sky. "It’s not yet noon," he said. "Do you want to rest?"
"I want to go to bed," replied Nicholas. "But I don’t believe I need to rest." He kissed Jack’s cheek. "Please take me to bed."
"Are you sure?" asked Jack. "I don’t want to hurt you."
"You could never hurt me. Take me to bed."
Jack smiled, and wrapping his fingers around Nicholas’, he led him towards the house, leaving the horse to be taken care of by one of the stableboys.
Telling the household not to disturb them, Jack led Nicholas to the bedchamber, and bolted the door, knowing that Nicholas preferred the security of being locked in. He leaned against the door and looked at Nicholas, who was standing in the middle of the room, his breathing ragged, a mixture, Jack suspected, of excitement and discomfort, as his back pained him.
"My lord," Jack said softly. "I missed you. Each day I worked as fast as I could so that I would be able to return to you, and each night I lay awake, longing to feel you lying next to me." He pushed himself away from the door and slowly approached Nicholas, his own breathing starting to speed up.
Stopping in front of Nicholas, he ran a gentle finger down a delicate cheekbone, then traced the outline of his lips, smiling when Nicholas opened his mouth, softly sucking on Jack’s index finger.
Pulling away, Nicholas took a step back, gesturing to Jack’s clothes.
"Take them off," he said softly. "I want to see you."
Jack did as he was told. He was only wearing a loose shirt and a pair of britches, and once he had kicked his boots off, it was a matter of seconds before he was standing naked in front of Nicholas, who let his eyes wander slowly up and down Jack’s body, his tongue snaking out to lick along his bottom lip.
He loved to look at Jack’s body. He wasn’t tall, but he was well proportioned; broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist and hips, his legs muscular thanks to his almost constant horse riding. A light dusting of dark hair covered the strong chest, and a line of hair a shade lighter ran down Jack’s belly, making Nicholas’ mouth water as he thought where that trail led.
Jack smiled slightly and tipped his head. "Now you," he said. "Please."
Nicholas shook his head and held his arms out to either side. "You do it," he whispered.
Smiling, Jack stepped forward, reaching out to unfasten the buttons of Nicholas’ doublet. Before he could start, Nicholas reached both arms out and pulled Jack in, kissing him, forcing his tongue deep into Jack’s mouth, making Jack gasp in surprise. He hadn’t been ready for such an assault, but he responded enthusiastically, tangling his fingers in Nicholas’ hair, pulling him closer still so that his naked body was pressed against Nicholas’ still clothed one.
Breaking apart, gasping for air, Jack began to unfasten the buttons on the doublet, pushing it off Nicholas’ shoulders as soon as he could, then pulling the cotton shirt over his head.
Nicholas pushed Jack backwards onto the bed, falling on him, kissing him almost desperately, trailing his tongue over as much of Jack’s flesh as he could, biting, then soothing the bites with his tongue. He only had one aim in mind, and it was only minutes before he was on his knees, taking Jack deep into his mouth. Jack groaned and raised his hips from the bed, his eyes closing in sheer pleasure and relief. Nobody had ever made him feel the way Nicholas did; it was as if he had found the other half of his soul.
Sliding his arms under Jack’s legs, Nicholas pulled himself even closer, wanting to be joined with Jack in every possible way, needing to taste him, to be part of him.
Jack reached down, tangling his fingers with Nicholas’, crying out as his orgasm tore through him and he spilled into Nicholas’ mouth, his body trembling at the release.
He lay still, eyes tightly closed, hardly able to breathe. Pulling his hand free from Nicholas’ grip, Jack reached down and stroked the soft blond hair.
"Come here," Jack whispered, finally able to speak again, and Nicholas obeyed, collapsing next to Jack on the bed. They shared a long kiss, then Jack, pulling back slightly, whispered, "Get into bed."
Kicking off the rest of his clothes, Nicholas did as he was told, joining Jack under the sheets. Jack pulled at the curtains around the bed until they were enclosed in their own world. Lying quietly, facing each other, Nicholas wrapped one of his legs around Jack’s hips, forcing the other between Jack’s legs. Jack smiled as he felt the hardness of Nicholas’ cock against his thigh and, shifting slightly, he began to encourage Nicholas to move against him, letting his hand run softly down Nicholas’ bruised back before sliding his finger between the firm buttocks.
Nicholas grunted softly, burying his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. He stopped moving his hips and lay still, not speaking.
"Nicholas? Nicholas, tell me," Jack demanded, putting one hand on the nape of Nicholas’ neck. "Is it your back?"
Nicholas nodded, and Jack could feel the heat of his embarrassment.
"I’m sorry," Nicholas whispered softly. "It hurts too much." He paused and took a deep breath. "Could we just lie here? For a little while."
Jack briefly closed his eyes, cursing Sir Francis to every hell he could think of for the damage he had inflicted on Nicholas, but then he swallowed his anger and gently stroked Nicholas’ neck.
"Of course," he whispered. "Just being with you is enough."
*
Jack woke slowly from a deep, dreamless sleep. He always slept well when Nicholas was in his bed; he claimed that at least if he knew where Nicholas was, he couldn’t be off getting himself into some kind of trouble. It was a lie of course, but Nicholas understood and played along.
He was curled up against Nicholas’ back, and as he straightened, Jack took the opportunity to study the damage Sir Francis had inflicted on his only child.
Nicholas was fair skinned, and every bruise and blemish showed, and this time it seemed that Sir Francis had been unable to stop himself, since almost every inch of Nicholas’ back showed some kind of bruise, whether it be from a fist, or a foot. Interspersed with the bruises were raised welts where Nicholas had been struck with a belt. Jack glared at the damaged skin, as if he could heal it just by thinking about it.
"Stop looking like that." Nicholas’ voice was sleep ridden and hoarse. "You know that it always looks much worse than it is." He reached behind him, and Jack quickly tangled their fingers together, resting their joined hands on Nicholas’ hip.
"Come away with me," Jack said suddenly, surprising them both. "We can leave here, find somewhere else to live."
Nicholas rolled over onto his back, ignoring the stab of pain from various injuries, and looked up into Jack’s eyes. He moved their hands so that they were lying on his belly, and without realising it, Jack began to flex his fingers against the smooth skin.
"We will," said Nicholas softly. "One day we will go away from here and be together. But until then, Jack, I have no choice."
"Duty?" asked Jack, unable to keep a trace of bitterness out of his voice.
"Jack, I need the money that this land will bring," said Nicholas softly. "And I love the house and the grounds, you know I do."
"But I have money…." protested Jack, stopping when Nicholas’ finger was placed on his lips.
"And my father is on good terms with some of the most powerful landowners in this country. We would have to live somewhere, and my father would make it almost impossible for us to find a place where we would be safe."
"My lands….." Jack stopped again at the pressure of Nicholas’ finger.
"No. You have those lands because of the King. If you were seen to be living in France, then the King could take the money and the land away from you. Jack, they’re not your lands,you know that. Until I inherit, we are trapped." He hooked a hand around Jack’s neck and pulled him down for a long kiss. Jack pulled away and settled his head on Nicholas’ shoulder, his hand still idly tracing the hair on Nicholas’ belly.
"It’s unfair," he said, aware that he was whining. "Why were you not born the second son?"
"I have no idea, my love. That’s a question only God can answer," said Nicholas, so seriously that for a moment Jack was concerned, but then he glanced up and saw the laughter in the blue eyes, and began to smile. Nicholas smiled back, and Jack laughed.
"Oh, my lord," he said. "I do love you. I miss you when we are apart."
"When do you leave again?" asked Nicholas.
"I have to go back to France in a week, but then I do not plan to leave your side for a good six months," assured Jack. "I will be gone perhaps 10 days."
"So we have a week," said Nicholas, kissing the top of Jack’s head. He reached out and pulled the draperies to one side. "It’s a marvellous day. Get your housekeeper to pack us some food and we can go riding."
*
Half an hour later with the horses saddled and food stowed in their saddlebags, Jack and Nicholas were galloping across the fields under the afternoon sun.
The lands attached to Jack’s house were not large, but he loved them for their variety. A visitor could admire the gardens and then, looking beyond the statues and the manicured lawns, his eye would be drawn to the meadows which Jack had let run wild. At this time of the year they were full of meadowsweet, and as the soft breeze blew from the woods it looked like the whole field was rising and falling, as if it was water.
Past the meadow were the woods, dark and chill in the winter, blessed relief from the heat in the summer. And in the centre of the woods was a lake; the place Jack and Nicholas were heading for.
The lake was set in a clearing; man made, since Jack had supervised this particular design himself. It was so deep that it was always cold, but that had never bothered Jack or Nicholas.
Sliding off the horses, Nicholas took both sets of reins and tethered them loosely, before joining Jack on the grass by the lake. Not speaking, Nicholas pulled Jack into his arms, and they sat quietly for a long time, gazing at nothing, Nicholas letting his fingers trail softly down the side of Jack’s face.
"I could live like this," Jack said softly. "Here in the woods, with you. As long as I have you, I could withstand anything, I think." He pushed himself closer to Nicholas, twisting his body so that he could burrow into Nicholas’ embrace.
"You would soon get bored," laughed Nicholas, kissing the top of Jack’s head. "You were born to intrigue and court life, not to the life of a peasant."
"I was born to be a knight," answered Jack, softly nipping the skin of Nicholas’ throat. "To fight and die for my country." He paused. "No, I would be happy here." He raised his head and kissed Nicholas.
He pulled away and lay on his back, hands folded underneath his head. Grinning, Nicholas straddled him and leaned down to kiss him, and hand either side of Jack’s head. Pushing himself upright, Nicholas began to unlace Jack’s thin shirt, running his fingers across each inch of flesh as it was revealed.
Reaching out and grabbing the saddlebag containing the food, Nicholas dug his hand in and pulled out a cloth. Unwrapping it, he picked out a strawberry, freshly picked from the bush that morning. Putting it in his mouth, he chewed slowly, letting the sweetness slide down his throat.
The next berry, he held lightly between his teeth and leaned down, letting Jack take the fruit from his lips. Just as he felt Jack’s lips, Nicholas bit down on the fruit, then kissed Jack, sharing the taste with him.
Jack groaned, sliding his tongue into Nicholas’ mouth, tasting the sweetness of the strawberry mixed with Nicholas’ own special taste.
The next berry was smeared all over Jack’s face and then soundly licked off, and Jack laughed, pulling away from the stickiness while trying to push into the feel of Nicholas’ soft tongue.
Then the games were forgotten as the kisses became hotter and more frenzied, and within minutes and after much cursing as laces knotted and boots got stuck, they were both naked.
Nicholas found himself tipped over onto his back as Jack knelt between his legs, running his hands up Nicholas’ thighs and onto his belly, then following the same route with his tongue, biting gently, making Nicholas flinch and groan.
"Is this what you want?" Jack asked softly, his lips against Nicholas’ skin. He was thinking of how Nicholas had been earlier, and he didn’t want to cause him any pain.
Nicholas tangled his fingers in Jack’s hair, moving his hips, urging Jack on.
Jack wrapped his hand around Nicholas’ cock, then slowly lowering his head, he licked across the sensitive tip, lapping up the hot, sweet liquid. Nicholas always tasted sweet, even though Jack knew that sweet was the wrong word; really it tasted of nothing. But to Jack, it was nectar.
Nicholas closed his eyes so that he could concentrate on the magic Jack’s tongue was creating. Every nerve seemed to be exposed to the air, making his skin tingle with every breath. He began to move his hips, forcing himself deeper into Jack’s mouth, panting Jack’s name with every thrust.
His body went rigid as he came, his fingers pulling Jack’s hair as his orgasm pulsed through him. He tried to say Jack’s name again, but he couldn’t get any air into his lungs.
Swallowing desperately, Jack finally let Nicholas’ cock slip from his mouth, and let his head rest on Nicholas’ thigh. Nicholas slowly ran his fingers through Jack’s hair, but neither of them spoke.
They slept while the sun moved around and only woke when the chill of the evening crept over them. Nicholas woke first, his fingers still tangled in Jack’s hair. He sat up and moved his leg so that Jack’s head slipped and bounced off the soft turf, waking him up with a start.
"Cold," Nicholas said when Jack sat up, rubbing his head.
"Hungry," Jack said, standing up and picking up his clothes. He paused, then looked at Nicholas. "Will you stay?" he asked, and Nicholas grinned and nodded.
"Good," Jack said. "A whole night ahead of us…" he tailed off and smiled.
*
Once back at the house, Jack ordered food to be taken to their chamber, and once it had been delivered, he barred the chamber door and rested his back against it, looking at Nicholas, who spread his arms wide and smiled.
Jack pushed himself away from the door and into Nicholas’ embrace, sighing as he felt Nicholas’ arms fold around him. He turned his head and kissed Nicholas’ neck, then his cheek. Nicholas turned his head and intercepted Jack’s mouth, kissing him softly.
"Food first, Jack," he said. "We need our energy!"
*
Nicholas buried his face in the bolster as Jack pounded into him. He felt as if he was being torn in two by the strength of Jack’s thrusts, and part of him wanted it to stop. But that was only a very small part. His whole body felt more alive than it had for what seemed an age; only Jack could make him feel like this, he only wanted Jack to make him feel like this.
He felt Jack’s rhythm start to change, and forced himself up onto his hands and knees, pushing himself back against Jack. He cried out loud as he felt Jack’s hand wrap itself around his cock, working him hard in the same rhythm. His entire body trembled as he came, spilling over Jack’s hand. It seemed to send Jack over the edge into his own orgasm, and Nicholas almost stopped breathing as he felt Jack’s seed spurt deep inside him.
Jack collapsed against Nicholas, pressing him into the mattress, nothing between them but a layer of sweat.
"Nicholas?" Jack finally gasped, his lips against the back of Nicholas’ neck. "Have I killed you, my lord?"
Nicholas laughed silently with no breath left to spare, and reached a trembling hand to Jack’s face. Jack kissed his palm and rolled away with a groan. After a moment, Nicholas raised his head from the bolster and moved over to sprawl across Jack’s body, his head rising and falling as Jack drew in great lungfuls of air.
"When we are living together in the same house, will we do that every night?" Nicholas finally asked.
"Yes," replied Jack. "Twice on Sundays."
"And in every room?"
"Strict rotation."
"What will the servants think?" asked Nicholas.
"That we have a great deal of energy and too much time on our hands," answered Jack, putting his arms around Nicholas and holding him close. Silence fell as they both fell further towards sleep.
"Only twice?" Nicholas finally asked, and Jack snorted, too exhausted to answer.
*
Arriving home the next day, Nicholas entered the house a little warily, knowing what would happen if he met his father. He had reached the foot of the stairs, intending to go up to his chamber, when footsteps behind him made him jump.
"Sir?" Nicholas relaxed, and turned to the servant.
"Sir Francis has gone to London for a few days. He said he should be gone no more than two nights."
"Was he away last night?" asked Nicholas.
"Yes, my lord. He left here in the early afternoon."
"So do we expect him tomorrow?"
The servant shrugged helplessly. "I am sorry sir. Sir Francis said two nights."
"Thank you," said Nicholas, changing direction and heading back outside. "We’ll expect him back tomorrow."
Almost running to the stables, Nicholas found one of the lads half asleep in the sun, and after delivering a hearty kick to wake him up, gave him a message and sent him on his way.
Two hours later, Jack arrived.
*
"Tell me about France," Nicholas said that night as they lay in bed.
"What, again?" laughed Jack, his head cushioned comfortably on Nicholas’ chest.
"Yes, again," replied Nicholas. "When you describe it I can see it; I can picture you there. You don’t seem to far away then."
"It’s beautiful," Jack said. "Mountains and streams. So green in the summer, you can ride for miles and never see another soul. And the woods …. oh Nicholas, I love the woods." He began to trace shapes on Nicholas’ belly, making Nicholas laugh.
"Cool in the summer, shelter when it rains. When I die, I want to be buried in the woods."
"Not for many years yet," said Nicholas. "But when the time comes we’ll lay together in the woods, I promise you. He ran his hand down Jack’s spine. "But now, Jack, we have many years of laying together before that happens. Come here."
"We should sleep," said Jack, smiling, knowing how ridiculous that sounded.
"Yes, we should," answered Nicholas, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. "But I don’t think we will."
*
The next day, the household staff moved around as quietly as they could, not knowing whether they should disturb Nicholas. The chamber door remained firmly closed for the whole of the morning. When they did finally emerge, neither Jack or Nicholas was properly awake, and simply collapsed on one of the long couches in the great hall, half naked, where they lay gazing at the dust dancing in the sun.
"Father will be back today," Nicholas said finally.
Jack grunted, but didn’t speak.
"I said….." Nicholas began.
"I heard you," interrupted Jack. "And I would rather we didn’t talk about it."
Nicholas tangled his legs with Jack’s and sighed, but didn’t speak. He had enjoyed this short time alone with Jack; it had made him think again of everything they had talked about. Maybe Jack was right, maybe this time they should both go to France and damn the consequences. As long as he had Jack, he could face anything. He sighed again. Wishful thinking.
*
In the middle of the afternoon, as the house became uncomfortably stuffy, Nicholas nudged Jack’s knee with his foot.
"What?" Jack asked, raising one eyebrow.
"We’ve sat here long enough," Nicholas said. "Let’s go into the garden. Or go riding, or something."
"I’m hungry," said Jack thoughtfully and Nicholas laughed.
"Again?"
"For food, sweet Nicholas. Shall we take some food into the garden?"
Nicholas stretched, giving Jack a tantalising glimpse of golden skin, then collapsed down again.
"Yes," he said simply. "Let’s go to the bower."
*
Turning on all his charm, Jack managed to persuade the housekeeper to part with some fresh loaves, cheese and fruit. She liked Jack, always had; but Sir Francis was her employer and he had never hidden his feelings for Jack. But she had known Nicholas since he was born and had watched him grow, and she realised that what he shared with Jack wasn’t unnatural, or a sin against God, or any of the other things Sir Francis called it.
*
Crawling through the hedge clutching the food was a challenge, but Jack considered that he coped well, handicapped as he was by having a Nicholas attached to his ankle.
Spreading the food out within easy reach, Jack leaned against a tree and beckoned to Nicholas, who happily sat between Jack’s outstretched legs, reaching out to pick up one of the fresh loaves of bread. He tore it open and fed it to Jack.
"So peaceful," he murmured. "This is how it should be all the time. Why do people have to fight us? Why are they so disgusted with us?"
"They don’t understand," Jack answered, his fingers teasing through Nicholas’ blond hair. "They don’t believe that we have a right to love each other."
"This is our place," said Nicholas. "When I want to feel you near me, I come here." He leaned back into Jack’s body, resting his back against the broad chest, his head tucked into the crook of Jack’s neck.
"Even when I’m not here, I’m close," Jack answered. "Never think I’m not with you, my lord." He raised his knees and tightened his arms, trapping Nicholas in his embrace. They sat quietly, not speaking, not needing to speak.
"I’m to France soon," Jack said, finally breaking the silence. "Will you come with me? I want you with me, Nicholas; I don’t want to leave you behind, not again."
"It won’t be for long, and I’ll be here when you get back," Nicholas said soothingly. "Jack, I go too far with my father now; he would disown me if I came to France with you. For the sake of a few days apart, you know it isn’t worth it."
Jack sighed and kissed the top of Nicholas’ head. Although he accepted that Nicholas was right, he didn’t want to admit it. He had missed Nicholas so much this time, more than he had thought it was possible. Without him, he was only half a person, simply existing until he saw Nicholas again and could start to live.
*
Emerging from the woods, Jack squinted against the setting sun and put a hand up to shade his eyes.
"Look," he said. "Your father. And soldiers. What do you think they want?"
"They’ll be talking to father about something," said Nicholas dismissively. "Probably part of the reason he went to London."
"I should go," said Jack, veering towards the stables. "Will I see you tonight?"
"Not tonight," said Nicholas with regret. "But tomorrow….." He tailed off as he watched the soldiers change direction to intercept their path. "Jack. Something’s happening."
"Jacques Beauchamp?" Jack stared at the Sergeant who was marching self importantly towards him. He hadn’t heard that name in many, many years, and something in the tone of the soldier’s voice told him that he was in trouble.
"Not a name I’ve heard in a long time," he said lightly, ignoring the knotting in his stomach. "Is there a problem?"
"For you, yes," came another voice, only too familiar. Jack tried not to let his concern show.
"Father, what’s happening?" Nicholas demanded, glaring at his father as Sir Francis pushed his way through the soldiers.
"Your precious Jack is a spy," sneered Sir Francis. He waved a bundle of papers in Nicholas’ face. "All the times you thought he was going to France to collect rents and he was telling his French friends all about the happenings at Court."
"What?" Nicholas pushed the papers away. "Father, that’s absurd." He turned just in time to see two of the soldiers grab Jack’s arms and twist them behind his back. "No, what are you doing!" As he attempted to push past his father and get to Jack, Sir Francis grabbed his arm.
"No, Nicholas. This is nothing to do with you."
"It’s everything to do with me you stupid, stupid man!" shouted Nicholas. "Leave him alone, he hasn’t done a thing."
Sir Francis pulled Nicholas to him, drew back his arm and slapped Nicholas so hard that he sent his son flying backwards, landing dazed on the grass.
"Stay out of this, Nicholas. If you get involved then you will be in serious trouble."
"Leave him!" Jack spoke for the first time. "Sir Francis, leave him." He looked at Nicholas, but didn’t speak. Nicholas gazed at Jack, his heart in his eyes
"No, Nicholas," he said. "No."
Taking as much strength as he could from Jack’s calmness, Nicholas didn’t move. He lay on the grass and watched as they dragged Jack away.
"Where are you taking him?" he asked. "What has he done?"
"Tomorrow he goes to London, to trial," answered Sir Francis, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Tonight he stays in the dungeon."
"Why?" Nicholas’ voice was small, confused. "Father, he hasn’t done anything. He isn’t a spy."
"I know that," answered Sir Francis, gazing down at his son, contempt all over his face. "But the King now believes it, and what else matters?" He cast a final glance in the direction of the soldiers, and with a contented smile, made his way back to the house, leaving Nicholas lying on the grass, trying to see Jack as he was dragged away. He felt as if someone had come along and ripped his heart out.
*
As soon as he could stand, he ran to the dungeon to see Jack, but two soldiers stood guard outside the door and absolutely refused him entry, taunting him.
"You’re barred from seeing him, boy," said the first guard. "We want to know what you find so sweet about him. Do you want to tell us, or shall we find out for ourselves?"
"Such a sweet young body," agreed the other guard. "Do you think he’d like a man’s cock up his arse instead of yours, boy?"
"Leave him alone!" shouted Nicholas. "When he gets out of here, I’ll make sure you suffer for this."
"And you really think that he will get out of here?" The first soldier reached out and pushed Nicholas away. "Go home, little boy. Leave him to us."
"Jack! Jack!" Nicholas peered into the gloom of the dungeon, but couldn’t hear or see anything.
"Go away," the first soldier said. "You can’t see him."
Not knowing what else to do, Nicholas backed away, fighting back the tears of confusion and anger. He didn’t understand what had happened. A short while before, he had been making love to Jack, and now Jack had been taken away from him.
"Jack, I’ll be back soon!" he called, before backing away, then turning and running back to the house.
*
Inside the depths of the prison, the Sergeant took his hand away from Jack’s mouth, and Jack panted, trying to get air back into his lungs. He was pressed into the wall by the Sergeant’s heavy body, the Sergeant’s leg forced between his own.
"Not to worry, sweet Jack," whispered the Sergeant. "We can keep you warm."
"Only in my worst nightmares," Jack snapped, gasping as he felt the Sergeant’s rough hand grasp his cock.
"We’ll be back tonight," the Sergeant whispered, suddenly releasing Jack and moving away. As the door to his prison slammed, Jack slid down the wall and put both hands over his face.
*
"Please, father, please!" Nicholas could hear the begging tone in his voice, but couldn’t stop it. "Whatever you want me to do, then I’ll do it, but please don’t do this. Don’t send him to London on made up charges. You know that he won’t come back."
Sir Francis sat in his huge chair, gloating.
"No, he won’t," he agreed. "And Nicholas, this is your fault. If you had left him alone as you were told so many times, then he would be safe at home. He will die, you do know that?"
Nicholas closed his eyes to hide the fear, but Sir Francis couldn’t resist pressing home his advantage.
"And you do know how traitors are killed. Do you want me to tell you?"
"No! Stop, please."
"You should have stayed away," his father said. "Now listen to me. When I was in London fabricating the evidence … oh yes, I freely admit it, Nicholas … I spoke to your Aunt Augusta. She would be happy to see you wed to her daughter, your cousin, Adele. Nicholas, you will be married by the end of the month. Forget everything. We can forget all this ever happened."
"I can’t," whispered Nicholas. "You can’t ask me to."
"Nicholas, he will not live to see next week, you must understand that. He is a French spy, according to the King. And you know as well as I that the King will not suffer a traitor to live. Beecham will die and you will learn to obey me."
Nicholas looked up at his father, eyes desperate, hair wild and dishevelled where he had run his hands through it. There was a fresh bruise forming high on one cheekbone where his father had hit him. He stood up, not able to speak, half running from the room.
*
As night fell, Nicholas watched his father slowly drink himself senseless. He could hear the soldiers down in the wine cellar doing the same, and realising that he would never get another chance like this, he made his quiet way to the door.
"Where are you going?" demanded Sir Francis blearily, and Nicholas froze.
"To bed," he said eventually.
"You want to see him, don’t you, boy?"
"Yes," agreed Nicholas immediately, seeing no point in lying.
"Well, go," said Sir Francis, waving his hand grandly. "It’s too late for him, Nicholas. You won’t see him again in this life. He’s no longer a threat to me."
*******************
Jack heard soft footsteps approaching his prison, and raised his head, feeling his heart start to pound. The soldiers had left him alone, but had said they would be back. He crawled backwards into the shadows, not knowing what to do.
"Jack?" Jack felt his whole body sag in relief as he recognised the voice.
"Nicholas? Nicholas, what are you doing here?" He stood up, putting his hands through the bars. "You shouldn’t be here. The soldiers…."
"Drunk in the cellar," said Nicholas dismissively. "I couldn’t leave you here alone." He took Jack’s hands in his own and raised them to his mouth. "This is my fault. I’ve come to beg your forgiveness, to stay with you tonight, if you’ll let me."
"They’re taking me to London tomorrow, my lord, my love. You do know that I won’t come back, don’t you?"
Nicholas shook his head. "Don’t! Please don’t speak of that." He dropped to his knees in front of the bars, pulling Jack down with him. "It seems so stupid that it should end like this. I have tried, Jack, please believe me when I tell you that I have tried to get these charges dropped. But my father - he has the ear of the King….. Jack, I tried."
"Sweet boy….." Jack whispered, pulling one hand free so that he could trace his fingers gently over the bruise on Nicholas’ face. "I understand, my lord, I understand. We were outmanoeuvred by your father. Blinded by love." He laughed bitterly, then stopped when he saw the tears in Nicholas’ eyes. "No," he whispered. "Never blame yourself for this. Even if I had known how this would turn out, I would never change it. To have had three years with you …. I feel honoured to have known you."
Nicholas reached out and the two hugged awkwardly, trying to avoid the bars as much as possible. Nicholas finally pulled away, but wrapped his fingers in Jack’s dark hair pulling him in for a long kiss.
"There must be some way of stopping this," he whispered. "I cannot give this up."
Jack shook his head, but didn’t speak. Nicholas was fooling himself, and they both knew it. There was no way to stop this, not now.
They sat for a long time, fingers entwined, sharing kisses, whispering words of love and comfort.
"We’ll be together again," said Jack suddenly, as the sky outside began to lighten as the too-short night came to an end. "What we have … what we feel …. one life is too short to encompass this."
"Will you wait for me?" asked Nicholas. "I’ll follow you as soon as I can. Wait for me." He paused. "I’ll find a war … do you understand?"
"I understand." Jack smiled and raised Nicholas’ hand to his mouth, kissing his palm. "I’ll wait." He paused. "Is Flight still stabled with you?" When Nicholas nodded, Jack continued. "Take him. You’re the only other person who can ride him. My sword is with the saddlebags. They’re yours."
Nicholas nodded. "Think of me when it’s … when it happens," he said. "I’ll be there with you." He could feel tears starting again, and when he glanced up at Jack, he saw the pain and anguish reflected there.
"Love never dies," Jack whispered brokenly. "Nicholas, my lord… my love …. I will never let you down, but ….." He suddenly cracked, and the cover fell away, leaving him looking young and unsure. "Nicholas, I’m so frightened."
Nicholas reached through the bars, pulling Jack forward to kiss him desperately, wishing he could take the pain and the fear away. He had never felt so useless.
"Go," Jack said, finally pulling away. "It’s almost dawn; they’ll be coming to take me to London soon. And when they do, my lord, please make sure you’re not watching." He paused. "I don’t want you to see me in chains."
"I don’t know what to do," Nicholas said, tears starting again. "I feel so helpless!"
"Go," said Jack again, kissing Nicholas for the last time. "Remember how much I love you, and that I will see you again." He pushed at Nicholas’ shoulders. "Please go. People are waking. Stop crying, Nicholas, please. I want to carry a picture of you in my head when I go to …. when I go. A picture of you in my arms, asleep after I have loved you. Lying together in our bower, our own secret place. Knowing that I was loved so well by you, and loved you so well in return; that will be enough to allow me to face my death with courage." His voice faltered slightly as he reached the end of his speech, but he swallowed down the fear.
It worked. Nicholas heaved a great sigh, and swallowed the last of his tears. Standing up, he reached through the bars and stroked Jack’s dark hair, but he didn’t speak. There was nothing left for him to say.
*******************
The trial was the farce Jack had expected, and although he went through the motions, his mind was already a long way away, trying to compose himself for what was to come. He knew his life was over when the first person who stood up to give evidence against him was Sir Francis Fairburn.
Made up charges, every one of them. But Sir Francis had the ear of the King …. and Jack had been born in France, and travelled freely between the two countries.
The trial took two days, and then Jack was officially told how his life would end.
*
He was housed in the Tower, in some luxury. His money had been confiscated by the Crown, but somehow he was still being kept in one of the larger apartments, instead of in the dungeon. It was Nicholas, Jack knew that. Nicholas was trying to at least keep him comfortable, even though Nicholas had no money of his own. It almost amused Jack to realise that Nicholas was stealing from his father. If Sir Francis knew that he was the one keeping Jack in comfort, he would be furious.
*
On Jack’s last night of life, his only visitor was Sir Francis Fairburn.
"Come to gloat, my lord?" asked Jack as calmly as he could, watching as Sir Francis made himself comfortable in the seat closest to the fire.
"Yes," he answered simply. "I win, boy. Nicholas will marry whomever I choose and he will father sons to keep the line strong. He will forget you. And tomorrow, you die."
Jack swallowed, fighting the fear that had been gripping him since the light began to fail. To never see another sunset ….. to never see Nicholas again …..
"Please …" he said finally, looking up. "Please don’t bear Nicholas any grudge. He’s a good son to you. His only failing, in your eyes, was to fall in love with me."
Sir Francis stared. Jack looked very young, very frightened and very lost. He leaned forward, and saw Jack stop a recoil.
"You are going to hell, Beecham. To a special hell reserved for people who corrupt innocent souls, in the way you corrupted my son. Nicholas doesn’t mention your name now, that’s how quickly he’s forgotten you. Love cannot exist between two men; God does not allow it." He paused and sat back. He could see tears standing in Jack’s eyes now, and he revelled in it. "Tomorrow, Beecham, the last face you see will be mine. And I will be smiling."
He stood up and looked down at the dark head, bowed over the table.
"You should never have started this, Jack," he said, then walked out of the room.
Jack put his hands over his face and sobbed once. He had promised Nicholas he would face death proudly, but he was so frightened. If he could just see him once more, hold him close, taste him, then he would go to the scaffold without a backward glance.
"To love somebody so much," he said into the empty room. "It can’t be wrong."
*
The following morning, Jack was taken out to meet the particularly horrible execution devised for traitors and spies. He was neither. He was just a victim, a naïve boy who had taken on someone more powerful than he was without even realising what he was doing.
He kept a picture of Nicholas in his mind for as long as he could, trying not to cry out in his agony; but when the darkness came, he went willingly.
*******************
When Sir Francis returned home, he summoned Nicholas to his study immediately.
"Sit," he said when Nicholas appeared in the doorway, face pale, eyes bloodshot. "For God’s sake, boy, moping about like this won’t help you. Your cousin arrives tomorrow, and you have to at least try and make a good impression. You’ll be married to her by the time the month is out. This time next year you’ll have a son, and all this will be a memory."
"Is he dead?" Nicholas asked brokenly, ignoring all his father had just said.
"Of course he is," snapped his father. "Cried like a baby, pleading with me to not let him die."
"No he didn’t," whispered Nicholas. "He would never ask you for anything. He promised me he would go bravely to his death." He looked up, meeting his father’s eyes. "You murdered him, father. You killed him because you couldn’t bear the fact that I loved him."
Nicholas stood up slowly. He was so tired, and he hurt so much. He felt so empty now, and wondered if the rest of his life was going to be like this; empty and alone.
"I’ll never forget him, father, and I’ll never stop loving him. I would have married and had children, you know that. I would have done my duty if you had let me stay with him" He put his hand on the door, still holding his father’s gaze. "I don’t belong to this family. When my cousin comes, she’ll find that you have lost your only child. The line will die out, father. You killed yourself when you killed Jack."
"Where will you go?" demanded Sir Francis, getting to his feet. "You don’t have money, you have no prospects…."
"I can fight," replied Nicholas. "I have Jack’s horse and Jack’s weapons, and this country always needs soldiers."
He walked out, ignoring his father’s cry. He couldn’t see through the tears, and his mind was full of unwanted images of Jack on the scaffold. He had witnessed that particular kind of execution once in his life, and he had been hopelessly sick afterwards. The thought of that being done to the beloved body he had held so close and loved so much…..
*******************
He had already collected his belongings and left them in the bower he and Jack had loved. He had bridled Flight and left him tethered in the woods. His father wouldn’t know where to look, he was safe.
The last place Nicholas visited was the dungeon where he had sat with Jack through the night before he was taken to London for trial and execution.
He sank to his knees by the bars and gave in to tears. He had been crying most of the day, but he couldn’t help it. He had lost the one thing he had ever loved, the only thing he had ever wanted - needed - in his life, and he didn’t see how he could survive. All he wanted to do was take the sharp edge of his dagger to his wrists, but he couldn’t because suicides didn’t go to heaven, and he had to go to heaven if he wanted to be with Jack again.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his own misery, but it slowly dawned on him that he was no longer alone, and he raised his head, ready to fight his father again if he had to. But it didn’t feel like his father; the atmosphere in the dungeon was warm, gentle. There was love here, in this cold, damp place. He heard a voice, strangely accented, but heartbreakingly familiar, whisper, "Nick…"
He looked in the direction of the voice, and froze. A dark haired boy, who looked startlingly like Jack, was leaning against the wall, his hand tangled in the blond hair of another boy who, as Nicholas watched, dropped to his knees in front of the dark haired boy.
He watched, wide eyed, as the blond made gentle love to the dark haired boy ("Jack!" Nicholas’ mind screamed. "It’s Jack!")
When it was over, and the two figures had shared a kiss, Nicholas watched as the blond leaned down to pick up a coat he had discarded. As he straightened up, Nicholas shifted, and the blond looked into the shadows, wide eyed.
It was like looking into a mirror. This blond boy was him, the dark haired boy was Jack. He could feel the love between the two of them; it was deep and lasting; the love he and Jack shared. He stared as the blond took the other boy by the hand and led him out of the dungeon, and it was then that Nicholas realised that the dungeon looked different - damper, colder, older somehow. And the light was wrong. It was late afternoon outside, but the shadows in the dungeon were long, as if it was late at night. The two boys walking away into the darkness looked different too; more well fed, softer, as if they had never had to do any physical work.
Nicholas sat quietly, strangely comforted by the vision. They would be together again, he knew that now. He had seen it. His heart was in pieces and it would never mend, or at least not in this lifetime. But he would see Jack again, and they would be together.
"Love never dies." Jack’s voice whispered in his ears, and Nicholas ducked his head, scrubbing his eyes against his knees.
"Jack," Nicholas said softly. "I’m so sorry this happened. I’ll live, because I have to. But wait for me. I don’t intend to be long."
Sighing, he pulled himself to his feet, and with a final look at the wall where he had seen the two boys, he made his way out of the dungeon. He had a war to find, and a death to seek.
The End
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