The Boys and the Traveler

The Boys and the Traveler Part 11

 Their arrival in the new town felt like a cold shower and not only because of the typical Scottish rainy spring weather. After they had got used to the fact that they were more or less accepted in Inverness, they hit a brick wall of indifference, hostility and revulsion.

Immediately after arriving in town they had their first reception. They saw a police constable. Collin told Kyle to halt and asked the man:

“Good afternoon, can you tell us where we can find the best place to camp without bothering any one?”

The man looked at him and with unconcealed hatred in his voice he answered:

“I don’t care. As long as it is outside the limits of my town!”

“So far for a friendly advice”, murmured Collin, shaking his head.

The job wasn’t what they had expected of it. It was a repair job. Collin hated repair jobs: it put limitations on his creativity, as well that it constrained the appliance of his technical abilities. But it paid money and it was a good exercise for Jamie.

Their first day at the job they examined the wooden choir benches of a church, which wasn’t that old at all. Most of the wood was in decay.

“No wonder,” grumbled Collin, “the amateur that made this didn’t even know what wood to use. With all the damp air over here it rots away while you look at it”

Whole elements of the benches needed to be exchanged totally and they all knew that their stay in this unfriendly town would be longer than they bargained for.

It was one of those nights after work. Because of the lovely weather they were having their tea outside in front of the wagon and both boys toiled at some task that Collin had given them That means: Jamie had it mastered in no time, but Kyle didn’t even know where to start, despite regular help from Collin.

All of a sudden Kyle looked directly in Collin’s eyes and with a venomous tone he asked:

“Where were you during the war, Collin?”

Collin remained unperturbed: he understood the question. In these terrible years the boy had lost both parents, one as a direct war casualty, the other as an indirect victim. He decided to take the question seriously and to answer it without lies or deviations:

“I was in the Netherlands during the war. No, it is not what you think: I was not a deserter. I happened to be there went the war broke out. As an English citizen I was interned. They only let me go in the beginning of 1919”.

“You were on the continent?” Jamie asked excited, unaware of the implication of Kyle’s question.

Collin just nodded in reply.

“Well that is great…those are the real travels!” Jamie exclaimed with gleaming eyes.

“So you just happened to be there?” sneered Kyle.

“You know, Kyle”, Collin said quiet, “I was just at work over there, in the south of the country, when the war started. I was arrested and interned, far to the north. I don’t know how it must have been on the front, I haven’t been there. It must have been terrible, but this internment camp wasn’t a picnic either, especially for a free-minded man like me. So every now and then I met English soldiers, who did desert. And judging from the stories they told me, I can’t blame them!”

Kyle put his eyes down in shame.

“Sorry, I had no right to ask you” he whispered.

“Oh yes, laddie, you have the right to ask. You are fully entitled to look at a man in front of you alive and kicking and without any visible physical damage and wonder why your father was killed, while he is still alive.”

“But, did you speak Dutch then?” the still excited Jamie asked.

Collin laughed briefly:

“In the beginning I couldn’t understand a word of it but after four years I picked up quite a lot of the language. Besides: I learned other things as well, but they had to do with my craft, not with the grieve Kyle feels”

The last-mentioned swept away a tear and said:

“I will come over it. But for tonight I spoiled enough good wood”

With darkness falling the evening continued in some kind of gloomy mood. Collin really wasn’t too sure how to handle it without paying attention to one of his both beloved at the expense of the other. On one hand there was the still excited Jamie, who tried to find out more and more about his traveling on the continent. On the other hand was Kyle, who just sat there with a sad face, without saying anything. No matter what: Collin was glad when it was time for bed.

Night didn’t bring the wanted repose. Collin stared at the wooden ceiling above him and couldn’t catch sleep. Memories came in his mind. They were the recollections of his voyage from the Netherlands back home. No, he hadn’t been on the front, but he had seen it: the total devastation of cities and the countryside in Belgium. Not one stone was on top of another, not a single tree stood upright. He had no idea how the moon looked like, but it must look alike the square miles of desolation through which he had traveled. The worst to look at were the cemeteries: acres full of white crosses, row for row, square after square, all laid out with military precision. It recalled the same reaction this night as it had when he first saw it: tears filled his eyes! All these lives, that were thrown away for…for what actually? Maybe some of the men under these white crosses had deserved a decoration. But was a piece of gilded tin with a ribbon worth dying for? Maybe Kyle’s father was one of the men under one of these crosses. He didn’t know where the man had died. Maybe even Kyle didn’t know it. Because besides the hundred thousands who were buried here in ruler-straight lines there were countless others, who only found a grave in the mud, under some pasture or in a nameless piece of forest. Anyway, they had died in faraway places with names that didn’t mean a thing to all these small English and Scottish villages.

And how many generals had died? Presumably none, apart from those who died of a heart failure in a whore house far behind the front lines.

“You can’t count them as war casualties, can you?” Collin thought with a wry smile, “But no doubt they were listed as “killed in combat!””

He felt how a head was laid on his chest. It must be Kyle, he was on the right side. Without thinking about it he stroked the boy’s long hair. Then he heard a whisper:

“Collin, I should have never asked you about that. I can’t make you responsible for my parents’ death. It is not fair to do that! I will try to hold my tongue in the future”

“It doesn’t matter, love” Collin quietly said, “You were sad, you were angry. And then it can happen that you say things that you regret later”

“No, you can’t just blurt things out because you are sad” Kyle objected, talking louder as he did before, “You can hurt people with that. I might have hurt you with it. Next time I will use my common sense and control myself”

“Common sense and feelings are two different things, love. And so every now and then they can collide”

He felt fingertips playing over his breast hair.

“What I really need at this moment is warmth and love”, a new whispering was heard. Before Collin knew what happened two soft lips touched his. A tongue pushed itself in his mouth and the hand slipped from the breast to the lower parts. He answered the kiss in an intense and desirous way, which only served to increase the passion in the younger boy. He felt how the whole body of the boy ended on top of his in an intimate contact between both their skins.

The pulsing in his groin started as a clear indication of his growing lust. He felt how Kyle stroke his testicles and the boy’s tongue slowly slithered over his belly.

A laughing voice, coming from the left, startled them:

“Were you two thinking I was asleep? No way, I want to join!”

In a split second the two boys jumped the older man. Collin really enjoyed it, how two soft, warm tongues stroke his shaft, moving forward little by little: Once arrived at the tip they had a friendly competition struggle in which each of them tried to lick the most pre-fluids to his advantage, in the mean time kissing and briefly licking another. One tongue over an oversensitive tip could be considered as an intense experience, two tongues at the same time was almost an unbearable delight. So now and then one of the tongues slipped to the hyper-sensitive skin of his groin, making the intensity almost joyfully excruciating. The boys kept pushing aside each other’s head playfully and masturbated each other at the same time. Colin knew that the release of his tension could not be postponed for long. The desire both boys gave him was too overwhelming. He tried to buy time with a weak:

“Wait a minute, laddies!”

He might as well have not said it, it fell on deaf ears. The two young stallions stampeded and couldn’t be stopped no matter what. Moaning he released his seeds. There was a mad scramble between the two to catch as much as possible of the white gold in their mouths, but in the resulting melee most was lost.

Collin had to catch his breath first. He closed his eyes and smiled: the old Gaelic warrior had returned. He was in his liar with his two lovers, one on each side of him.

The working week was done. The rest of the day and the following Sunday they could withdraw into the sanctuary of their camp, being reprieved of the insults, the distrust and the hostility from the naken in this town until Monday. Compared with Inverness their stay was a shock, but Collin considered this city the worst he had encountered. They were reviled on the streets with the “Piss of, stinking tinkie!”, “What are you doing here, scum?” and other expressions of hate being quiet common.

They felt relieved that they had some time off from the hate. They sat in front of their wagon and had tea. It was a lovely day. The sun shone brightly and birds were singing everywhere. It promised to become a nice, quiet evening and they were content to spend it with the three of them.

But they reckoned without the host. Jamie looked up, nodded in the direction of the road and said: “We’re going to have a visitor”.

The others looked up as well. A man, leading a bike with his hand, walked in the direction of their camp. His clothes told them he was a priest.

“I don’t fancy that right now!” Collin growled, “I took all the abuse I could take this week!”

The others nodded their understanding, but it was a matter of fact that the man came nearer and nearer.

While the man approached them Collin had a good look at him. It made him doubt his initial impression. The man behaved friendly. It was not the typical inflated local representative of the Lord, who had come along to give them a clear and stern lecture.

It was a young priest, maybe just past thirty or so. His black frock fluttered loosely around his slim stature. He had a narrow face, but it was a face with two smart eyes, given to laughter. The most noticeable feature of his appearance however was his hair: it was an almost flame-red crop.

“Good evening, men”, he called out, putting his bike against a brush, “Do you mind if I join you for a while?”

“Be our guest, Father” Collin replied, “Grab a chair. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh yes, I would love that!” the priest said with a happy smile, “It was a pretty good distance on the bike and that makes one thirsty. Very nice spot you men have over here”

The priest got his tea and took his first sip with a satisfied look. Collin was curious why the man had come in the first place and decided to press for the reason for his visit:

“What can we do for you, Father?”

“Yes..of course, the reason for my unannounced visit”, the man said smiling.

“Well, at least it doesn’t look like a moral lecture or eternal damnation” Collin thought, but he swallowed the thought prudently.

“Well,..” the thin man spoke, “I am the parish priest of Kilmacolm, a village about ten miles down the road. Everything is just fine there: I have a nice parish with very nice people, a small but beautiful church, a cozy rectory, but there is one thing that irritates me since I have been there”

“And what might that be?” Collin asked politely.

“My pulpit, sir, my pulpit. That thing is so old and worn out. I might as well stand on a soap box in Hyde Park when I do my sermons. So I have the idea to get another one, a really beautiful one, with decorations and splendor, made by a real craftsman”

“Why did you come to us, Father?” Collin asked with a smile, “What makes you think we are real craftsmen?”

“Because my colleague here in town told me you men are really good in what you are doing” came the down-to-earth reply.

“How about that for a change?” Collin thought, “Someone in this town who tells something positive about us”. But again he was wise enough to keep the thought in his head, without speaking it out. Instead he asked:

“Do you have an idea how this new pulpit should look like?”

The man started a long dissertation of how he imaged it to look like. But after a long monologue he finished with a:

“All vague ideas, sir, the ideas of a layman. I have no idea what is possible, I’m no wood carver. So I suggest I leave it up to you how the final result will be”

“Think about it”, Collin said, “We can always discuss it again later. Because I really feel like making this pulpit for you”

The priest laughed relieved:

“Wonderful! Then we have a deal!”

“There is one tiny problem, Father” Collin damped his abundant enthusiasm, “We are still working on this job here and we need to finish it first, before your colleague has less positive messages about us. In other words: we can’t start tomorrow”

“No problem, my man. I have time. The most important thing is that the problem of the pulpit nears its end and that a new one will be coming. That is really important to me.”

He rose and shook hands. Suddenly he said:

“Oh dear, did I introduce myself?”

All three shook their heads.

“Oh dear, how terribly impolite” the man said ashamed, “I am Father Farquahart. I do apologize, I was so terribly enthusiastic that I even forgot the most basic rules of politeness. But of course you can also call me by my nick name that my parishioners gave me”

“And what might that be, Father” inquired Collin curiously.

“Father Lighthouse!” was the direct answer. The man put up a mock-thinking face and said:

“I really wonder if that is because I am the lighting beacon in my parish? Or is it just because of the colour of my hair?”

He roared with laughter when he said it.

Again he shook hands. Then he took his bike and left, back to Kilmacolm.

Collin watched him leave. Despite his initial misgivings he had to admit he liked the man, actually he liked him a lot.

“One job rolls into the other” he said to the two boys, “Not bad, laddies!”

“No” Jamie agreed, “and a very nice job on top of that as well!”

Collin looked at him, but kept silent. He had an idea as far as Jamie was concerned. But first he had to discuss it with Father Lighthouse. That had to wait until the job in this town was done.

It took them another number of weeks before they finished up the job at hand. But finally they were able to break up camp with a sense of relief that they could leave this hostile city once and for all. As far as all of them were concerned, they had no intention to return to it in the future.

They left early. It was a small hop to Kilmacolm, so it gave them the opportunity to arrive early and in that way have plenty of time to search for a nice camp site. As usual Kyle directed Rover expertly out of town. Once they hit the road farther to the west they set course for Kilmacolm.